Story of Bertie's life as seen through rose-tinted glasses pulls in the crowds

THE ROOM was heaving, the pints were flowing, the style would put your eye out and bouquets of balloons flared up from the tables in swaying spumes of green, white and orange.

And suddenly, in the excited throng luxuriating in the cheerful company of the charismatic Bertie, we were transported to the heady days of the Galway tent with backs to be slapped in a whirl of sweaty bonhomie and admirers bearing fistfuls of cash queuing up for the words of the Great One.

For this was the launch of Bertie Ahern’s autobiography, and last night in Dublin the former Taoiseach showed that he can still fill a hall when his name is top of the bill.

The usual book launch fare was on offer: pints, wine and cocktail sausages on fancy sticks. But the hundreds who crowded into the Mansion House were also treated to a large portion of tongue served firmly in cheek from EU commissioner Charlie McCreevy, who did the honours.

Rewriting history was the theme of the night – a verdict has yet to be delivered on the book.

In their speeches, both McCreevy and Ahern remarked that the great work they did for the economy has been forgotten by commentators more interested in blaming them for the nation’s current financial woes.

“Our double act was a winning formula” said the EU commissioner of his former boss.

“The country was in safe hands,” when the two of them “were looking after it,” declared Bertie. The crowd, mindful of the pinch in their bank balances, cheered. Brian Cowen, in the body of the hall, didn’t.

This was Bertie’s night, but the reporters who came to record the big names in attendance were a little disappointed. The turnout was composed largely of long-time supporters and friends, with many familiar faces from his time at the Mahon tribunal on hand for their pal’s big launch.

Distracted photographers at the entrance pleaded for help. “What does Paddy the Plaster look like?” “Do you recognise him in the suit with the grey hair?” “Is your man a member of the Drumcondra Mafia?”

Huge photographs of the author adorned the balcony in The Round Room. Bertie with Nelson Mandela, Bertie in a tux with his arm around his lovely daughters, an action shot of Bertie wearing a Dublin football strip, Bertie with Hilary Clinton and with Dubya and with Big Ian Paisley. The Bert and the Ma – a lovely picture. The man of the moment was, as ever, charming and self-deprecating. He sought out members of the media “they have their job to do” and said “thanks for coming”.

Senator Eoghan Harris was stationed at the door with his wife Gwen, a copy of the book under his oxter. “Look, I had to pay for it!” he cried.

“Ah for God’s sake Eoghan, €16.99 for a seat in the Seanad is cheap at half the price,” we retorted, and right enough, he agreed. The former taoiseach sang his praises during his speech.

Everyone was in great form.

The Taoiseach arrived late so as not to steal Bertie’s limelight. As soon as he reached the hall, he was surrounded by a group of good looking young ones begging him to sign their copies of the book.

“It should be a great read, a cracking read, and I’m delighted for him and that he’s happy with it,” said Brian Cowen. And no, he insisted, he had no intention of putting pen to paper himself.

Bertie didn’t mention his successor during his speech, but he probably didn’t notice him coming in.

So what’s in the book then? “I think it answers the question that has been asked for years: Who is Bertie Ahern?” said the author, if we could excuse him being humble for a moment.

McCreevy told yarns and got in a few digs at the commentariat – “political strokes are always done by Fianna Fáil; other parties always do things in the national interest”. And he was delighted with the “freedom” Bertie gave him in the Department of Finance (cue snorts from the commentariat) and he was delighted when he let him go to Europe (more snorts) and there was “never a harsh word between the two” (apoplexy).

For a while, we wallowed in Bertie nostalgia. And he didn’t let us down. The Bert, who admits in the book that he often mangled his words on purpose for greater effect, had people yearning for the old days when he came out with a classic Bertism.

Describing the book, he remarked: “A famous American author, Sinder [sic] Poitier simply said: “My autobiography was simply the story of my life.” You’d miss him, sometimes.