Time passes slowly during afternoon tea in Biffo's office

DÁIL SKETCH:TICK, TOCK, tick, tock . . .

Brian Cowen looks at his watch.

Tick, tock, tick, tock . . .

John Gormley circulates with the tray: “Digestive biscuit, Enda? They’re McVities.”

“More tea, Eamon?”

Kenny and Gilmore wave away the Green Party leader. It’s all his fault that they have to go through this stupid charade.

Tick, tock, tick, tock . . .

The Taoiseach eyes his Coalition partner. “Do you not have a whale to save or something?” he rasps sourly.

Gormley smiles and concentrates on his deep breathing.

Time passes slowly in Biffo’s office. You could have cut the air with a knife, except Health and Safety removed them all in case things turned nasty.

Outside, their handlers nervously pace the corridors. Nerves are a little strained on both sides of the door.

Enda has to open the plastic around the little pack of plain digestives with his teeth. Eamon is watching his weight, so he doesn’t partake. “I suppose you prefer the sticky stuff, Eamon,” snorts Brian, in a weak attempt at a joke.

Tick, tock, tick, tock . . .

Enda looks over at John, who is trying to press some green tea on a bilious Taoiseach. “Can we go yet?” Eamon and the Biff perk up. They look hopefully at the Minister. “Yeah, can we? Can we go now?”

But John has not seen enough harmony. They must try harder.

The Taoiseach has an idea.

“Right lads. Boutros Boutros Gormley wants harmony. I’ll sing the verses and you two can join in on the chorus. What’ll we sing?”

They start to snigger when they think of Gerry Adams locked outside in the cold. (Although this is one time that the Sinn Féin leader is very happy to be the man behind the wire, pressing his nose against the window of Government Buildings.) They sing in honour of Gerry.

Biffo starts. “We’re on da one road, sharing the one load, we’re on the road to God Knows Where!” Kenny and Gilmore chime in: “In your dreams! You’re on your own, Brian!”

The Taoiseach shrugs. “Please yourselves.”

Tick, tock, tick, tock . . .

Gormley hoovers, and then he hovers. "Going anywhere nice for your holidays? I hear the south of France is nice this time of the year. Myself and Penny are thinking about taking a gîtefor the mid-term break."

Gilmore rolls his eyes. Kenny dunks his digestive. It breaks and falls into his tea.

“Ha! Ha!” goes Cowen.

Outside the frazzled handlers are given tea. In Leinster House, the media await the outcome of this meeting. Everybody thinks it’s a waste of time. Just like in Government Buildings, where only Gormley is still hoping for a miracle.

At Cowen’s invitation (browbeaten into it by Gormley), the leaders met at 4pm. Now they sit at a round table in the interests of consensus and appearances.

Tick, tock, tick, tock . . .

One hour passes. Then two. What on earth can they be doing? Gormley, it turns out, has barricaded the door.

Finally, word reaches the sulking journalists – it’s way past their teatime – that the gathering is over. At 6.20pm, Enda bustles back into Leinster House. Eamon follows two minutes later. They seem relaxed. Gormley rushes out shortly afterwards. He hasn’t time to talk – has to take a phone call.

The Taoiseach, meanwhile, heaves a sigh of relief. Alone at last with his office to himself. He calls in RTÉ and does a live interview on the Six-One News.

“Frank and meaningful,” he declares. Unequivocal commitment from all sides to bring the deficit below 3 per cent by 2014, says the Taoiseach, with no small hint of triumph. In fact, there is no hint of triumph at all – that commitment was secured two weeks ago. But Cowen has to say something to account for the two hours he has just spent holed up with his two political rivals and Mary Poppins.

The Labour leader is first out on to the plinth. “This particular exercise is now over,” says Gilmore. They didn’t reach a consensus on the budget, as some had hoped. “I’m not sure it was ever going to happen . . . I don’t know what the expectations of others were about this meeting.”

It’s simple. The Green leader just wanted everyone to get along. It’s politics, says Enda, who is next out to rubbish Boutros Boutros Gormley’s starry-eyed summit.

“We will stand by the country and we will stand by the people,” he trembles for the TV cameras. “There are no plans for any further meetings.”

It is as plain as the digestives on offer in Biffo’s office that neither Kenny nor Gilmore nor Cowen ever had any intention of reaching an agreement. As the FG leader is speaking, Gormley nips past the cameras and the press pack and into the warmth of Leinster House. Is he going to do an interview, we inquire of a handler.

“Maybe. But he’s going to have his tea first.”

Eventually the Green leader makes it outside. Boutros Boutros says he is disappointed a greater level of consensus wasn’t reached, but he is satisfied there was engagement. What a waste of time. (Although Brian, Enda and Eamon now have a song to sing for the Christmas party.)

Speaking of time wasting, the Dáil rises today and, because of the bank holiday weekend, deputies are not scheduled to return until Wednesday.