Youth Defence's biggest mistake was launching its protest in the middle of the Taoiseach's tribute to Jack Lynch. All human life may be sacred, but the memory of Jack Lynch is in an even higher category than that at a Fianna Fail Ardfheis. By the time the protesters had made the last of many attempts to disrupt proceedings, the delegates were a Lynch mob in more ways than one.
It had been shaping up as a fairly humdrum address by Mr Ahern when the drama started. There was a rush at one side of the hall, distracting the security men, then a man vaulted the barriers at the other end and was on the podium.
Observers with overwrought imaginations feared it was an assassination attempt, but as party secretary Martin Macken led the rush to take the bullet for the Taoiseach, Mr Ahern didn't even flinch. Maybe his life flashed before him - although, come to think of it, we'd already had that in the warm-up videos.
In any case, the protester was carrying nothing more lethal than an anti-abortion poster; and he fluffed his moment of glory, holding up the blank side to the cameras before being manhandled off the stage.
Meanwhile, the Taoiseach finished his tribute to Mr Lynch in Irish, to a resounding cheer.
The chastened security men were determined no one else would breach the barriers and, as further protesters stood up periodically to heckle, they were pointed out by audience members and swatted like bluebottles on a jam sandwich. At one point a young man walked slowly towards the stage.
He might have been just returning to his seat after a visit to the Gents for all anyone knew, but he was bundled outside anyway.
It mattered little what the Taoiseach was saying by now - he was getting ovations every other paragraph from the angry crowd. When the last heckler stood up just before nine o clock, delegates were queueing up to have a swing at him. One matronly woman with a crutch made for the melee with apparently deadly intent and, although she did not get close enough, she was applauded back to her seat.
Mr Ahern had survived a dangerous moment even on the way to the stage when, such is his popularity among the party faithful, he was severely woman-handled by two supporters. Had their intentions not obviously been friendly, the incident would have amounted to assault.
But that was easily the most exciting event of the evening up to that point. The usual warm-up speech by Brian Cowen, featuring a personalised verbal assault on the leading members of the opposition, was sadly missed this year.
One well-placed party source explained that as Minister for Foreign Affairs, Mr Cowen couldn't be acting "like a thick gurrier". So while the Offaly man embarks on a gradual evolution into James Bond, the role of ardfheis bootboy was handed to John O'Donoghue.
It wasn't the same, even if Mr O'Donoghue's insults were so good - particularly at the expense of the Labour leadership ("D'unbelieveables of Irish politics - Roundy Quinn and Butty Howlin") - experts suspected the Minister of Foreign Affairs had scripted them.
But this was, in a sense, the Jack Lynch ardfheis, and, having earlier approved the new code of conduct for members, the party all but canonised its famously honest late leader. The job of introducing a video on his life and works fell to another Leesider, Micheal Martin, the symbolism of which won't have been lost on the new Minister for Health.
If - God forbid - anything really were to happen to Bertie, Mr Martin is many people's idea of the next leader. And, with his softly lilting Cork accent, athletic build and squeaky-clean image, all he was missing was a pipe.