So much for the late-night, tension-filled, blood-spattered negotiations between the Ministers for Health and Finance in the lead-up to the reform programme for the health service. Carl O'Brien reports.
As the cameras flashed at the start of yesterday's launch, Micheál Martin and Charlie McCreevy sat side-by side, all smiles and matesy nudges.
There was a little intimate chuckle between the two as Mr Martin cracked a quiet joke out of the corner of his mouth while the Taoiseach spoke. On cue, the cameras whirred into action.
And there was almost a moment of horror followed by a wry smile as Mr Martin realised he was in a seat labelled "Minister for Finance", while McCreevy was in the seat labelled "Minister for Health". The cameras pointed and clicked.
And when the lights dimmed and the slide-show presentation began, the pair sat together in the corner of the podium making humorous whispers to each other. The snappers lapped it up.
The show of unity, in the face of a crumbling health service and disagreement over how the system is funded, made for good image projection.
But Mr Martin seemed genuinely happy. For a few glorious moments, as he listed off his vision of a new health service, it was as if the daily barrage of bed closures, cancelled operations and wasted investment were a million miles away.
Instead, a sunlit upland awaited with a flawless health service. And he knew the way.
"These are historic times," he said quickly, for there was much to say. "Yesterday the Government made decisions which represent the most radical programme of change for the health sector since the establishment of the health board structure in 1970."
But he was only getting going.
As he unfurled his vision for the health system, he soared ever upwards, detailing his philosophy on good governance, speaking as Gaeilge, and even grabbing questions directed at the Taoiseach.
By contrast, the rest of the Government seemed glum at this sterling performance.
The Taoiseach, Tánaiste and Minister for Finance seemed puzzled as they stared intently at the flow charts and arrows, representing the planned health service reform, trying to make sense of the array of shapes and blobs.
The Department of Health's secretary general sounded briefly excited as he presented a picture of a cluttered flow chart, followed by a slightly less cluttered flow chart, which apparently represented the new health service.
Minister Martin, meanwhile, enthusiastically fielded queries from the media, while the others resorted to their stock tactics of avoiding the question.
In response to a query, Mr McCreevy recited a list of statistics and spending figures until everyone appeared to have forgotten what was asked in the first place.
The Taoiseach, meanwhile, appeared to have adopted a new tactic of not answering questions in the form of telling an anecdote, without any illuminating point.
Minister Martin, meanwhile, seemed almost, well, Taoiseach-like in his performance. Could this be the start of the regal ascent of the Minister for Health or the start of a death spiral in which his ambition to be leader will finally be swallowed up?
"This reform programme threatens no one," he announced, as if speaking of its implications for a leadership battle down the road, "but represents a major opportunity . . ."
It just might.