Blessed Ivor of Precious Emulsion takes sheen off Bertie's answers

Dail Sketch: The Callely canonisation process continues. Blessed Ivor of the Precious Emulsion is going about Leinster House these days wearing the beatific expression of a man who is suffering in public, but secretly beginning to enjoy the pain.

From now until the end of the Government's reign, the Opposition will invoke his name whenever double standards and dig-outs get an airing. And Ivor will tilt a brave chin forward and gaze serenely into the distance.

A saint, and no mistake. This former junior minister, sacrificed for a lick of paint costing less than the price of a return trip to Old Trafford for an indigent minister for finance.

Ivor will sit high among the backbenchers, in the pantheon of Bertie's fallen angels, and haunt the Taoiseach with his sad eyes and disappointed face.

Deputy Callely will pass his Fianna Fáil leader in the corridor and smile up at him. Bertie will nod and hurry on, but feel Ivor's pleading eyes boring into his back.

Why did I have to go, boss, when you were able to stay? Why? Not surprisingly, the name of Callely was intoned by Enda Kenny yesterday morning, as he berated Bertie for failing "to answer pertinent questions" in the Dáil on Tuesday.

Areas such as his threadbare account of how he came to pocket stg£8,000 for a speaking gig when he was minister for finance. His equally threadbare explanation of how he came to amass £60,000 in savings between the years 1986 and 1993, when he didn't even have a bank account. "People are saying it's incredible," spluttered Enda.

Furthermore, was there just the one gig in England where persons unknown rattled a tin cup for Bertie at unknown businesspeople? The Taoiseach said there was just the one.

"A hen that lays out once, will lay out again," declared Enda, shooting a knowing look across to a baffled Bertie.

The Fine Gael leader got little change from the Taoiseach, (neither did Bertie's benefactors, until he decided to pay them back with interest before the Sunday papers came out last week).

Taoiseach Ahern repeatedly stated he wasn't going to "rehash" the same questions, having dealt with them in the House for a cumulative three hours and 20 minutes over the last fortnight.

A similar breakdown detailing the length of time spent on delivering answers would have been far less impressive.

Wisely, the Taoiseach made no attempt to address the matter of laying hens. He's in far too much trouble already.

The jokes are already starting about his unorthodox approach to personal finance. Here's one: "Now we know why Bertie accepted the free shoes in Westport during the Fianna Fáil think-in. He needed a new box for his savings."

PD leader, Michael McDowell, whose support for the Taoiseach ensured his political survival, was a late arrival for Leaders' Questions.

He padded in with Mary Harney by his side, like he was afraid to enter the Chamber alone. Mary delivered a wan looking Michael to his seat, then bustled off to take her own.

The PDs are not to be trifled with at the moment. They have not emerged well from this political debacle, and there may be some deep sulking ahead in the ranks.

After a few more questions were ignored, the Opposition ran out of steam. The House moved on to other business.

Bertie weathered this storm - but at what cost? And always there, in the background, will be Blessed Ivor of the Precious Emulsion, with his little hurt face, staring, staring, staring . . .