In the end, it came down to a chair. The chair. Brought on amid a fanfare of trumpets, shrouded in white cloth, we glimpsed the famous antique which had provided one of the best Late Late moments when a housewife conned a nation into believing that she was a master antiques restorer. But it was gone as quickly as it arrived, the full story left untold.
The rest of Gay Byrne's last fanfare was the usual fodder, with a few surprises. The names read like a roll call of those who had graced the hallowed studio over the years: Niall Toibin, Christy Moore, Rosaleen Linehan, Billy Connolly, Val Doonican. Familiar faces peered from the audience: Joe Duffy, Des Cahill, Father Brian D'Arcy, Larry Gogan.
But this wasn't about shock. It was about nostalgia, and we reminisced and reminisced until there was nowhere else to go. The entrance of Bertie Ahern provided the main flurry of media attention. Asked if the Late Late Show had changed Ireland, the Taoiseach said he didn't know, but it had "contributed to people's understanding of what was going on".
The sadness in the eyes of Michael Gibney, a man sitting in the audience who had lost three generations of his family in the Omagh bombing, provided one such moment of understanding.
Bono presented Gay with a Harley Davidson motorbike. "This is too much", said Gay. And, as Bono led the audience in an impromptu singalong of the show's theme tune, some of us had to agree.
President McAleese appeared to say that the Late Late Show had started many of the rows in her home. Gay sat there, finger on mouth, saying things like: "There you are" and "The time has come".
Charlie Haughey didn't appear, as rumoured. The earth didn't move. But no matter. Gay Byrne had done the State some service. Thanking Uncle Gaybo for the last time, if we didn't laugh, we would have cried.