It was on a table next to the podium, draped in a large blue cloth. As the Taoiseach addressed his beaming audience, this strange-looking mass lay mysteriously to his right, a grey steel rod poking out at an angle from under the covers.
He delivered his speech to the staff of AMSE structural engineers, congratulating the firm on their new offices and fabrication facility and noting that 35 new jobs had been created as a result. With a mounting sense of excitement, the moment of unveiling drew near. Andrew Mannion, boss of the firm, welcomed his distinguished guest to their headquarters in Westmeath and thanked him for coming. Then he whipped off the cloth.
Ooooh! There was a big round of applause. Local TD Donie Cassidy clapped like a man possessed. Local Senator Mary O'Rourke swooned. Bertie blinked and gazed at the heavy metal structure of struts and crossbars. A small plant in a black plastic pot swung from the top of it.
Of all the trips, to all the places, in all of the country over the last four years, this was surely the most bizarre gift he had ever received. Had he been given a jewelled dagger and the keys to a Jag, Bertie couldn't have looked more happy.
Then Mr Mannion explained that the plant stand had been fashioned from the rods used to build Croke Park. When the Taoiseach left Westmeath, he remarked, he would be bringing an authentic piece of the new Croker back with him.
As gifts go, it was more imaginative than the purple Waterford Crystal vase he would get an hour later when he turned up in Kinnegad to open a new hotel. And more of a talking point than the expensive desk set he would be given later in the evening at a packed Fianna Fáil dinner in Mullingar.
Another day, another round of speeches and gifts for the Taoiseach on tour.
His weekly away days down the country are as much a permanent feature in his diary as Leaders' Questions in the Dáil and constituency housekeeping in Drumcondra on a Saturday.
This is the Bertie Ahern the national media don't see. Free of the Kildare Street goldfish bowl, the Taoiseach is in his element. He is relaxed and warm and works the public with winning ease and remarkable skill. At this stage, as the general election proper approaches, there can hardly be a corner of the country that Bertie hasn't already canvassed. In the constituencies, candidates coast on his coat-tails, hoping some of his popularity will rub off on them.
In Westmeath yesterday, Mary and Donie stuck to him like glue. Donie, drawing on years of experience leading the backbench stampede to the leader's side after his ardfheis keynote speech, managed to press the local flesh while never missing a chance to jump in when a camera was produced. But Mary, drawing on years of cabinet experience and stronger shoulders, always managed to land nearer to her leader.
Away from the Dáil chamber, mumbling Bertie is a very good speaker. He knows how to play an audience with his self-deprecating wit and little jokes, into which he neatly stitches his Government's achievements and its part in creating the good times.
There's a lot of shrugging and rueful smiles and a definite pattern to the patter. In Moate, inviting his audience to celebrate the success of AMSE, and by extension, his Government, he remembered the time when everyone was complaining that there was no building going on in the country.
"Now the whole country is a building site, and people are saying 'it's very dangerous, it's too much. When will it ever stop?' You can't win." Then he unveiled a plaque, as Donie and Mary watched each other like hawks and got ready to jump in at the next photo opportunity.
After a quick cup of tea and a mingle, he was into his car and gone, leaving a warm feeling and plenty of positive copy for the local media behind.
On to Kinnegad, after a quick RTÉ interview where he talked about the need for caution on the roads this bank holiday weekend. His little cavalcade, complete with Garda escort, flew by The Irish Times on the road out and disappeared quickly over a hill. We were bang on the speed limit.
The new Hilamar Hotel is on the Main Street, on the site of the old Harry's Roadhouse. By the time we caught up with Bertie, he was already inside, and two schoolboys were fighting over the red ribbon he cut at the front door. He told the crowd he was an old friend of the owner, developer Robert Bagnall. They knew each other from the Galway Races. "It's a lovely job," he noted of the hotel, before stressing the importance of this new business to the town. "Keep taxes low and jobs high. That's the whole issue to do." Then he recalled how, when he was minister for finance, people used to say to him that if he kept interest rates below 10 per cent it would be a good thing. Now that they are at a historic low, they are complaining about a few small rises.
Robert Bagnall likes to sing when they meet in Galway. "Every year, it's the same bloody song. If you don't mind me saying to you, you'd nearly need a few pints to get over it." His audience hooted, loving him.
He lowered his voice and wooed them in with a conspiratorial aside. "I'll tell you what I'll do, Robert. I'll have a word with Westlife." The place cracked up.
Mr Bagnall thanked his distinguished guest for coming. "We wish to thank the Taoiseach and his Government for creating the environment that makes this possible," he said. The photographers gathered for the presentation. Mary and Donie shuffled forward, then hurtled into the frame.
And Bertie was gone. Outside, two women were regaling a friend with stories of what the Taoiseach said. They laughed fondly, then one turned to the other and said "he's a simple man." She agreed. "That's it. A simple man."