Inscrutable Cowen cringes at thought of new Chinese remedies

NEWTON'S OPTIC: "We will be happy to invest in your country, Mr Brian," Premier Wen Jiabao announced, waving at the Taoiseach to rise.

Thank Christ, thought Brian Cowen, prostrating himself for one final kow-tow before the Sofa of Preserving Harmony.

"Don't let your lips stick to the floor, ha ha ha," Wen added politely. "This is a joke from your northern barbarians, yes?"

Glancing up, Cowen saw the colour drain from the Irish Ambassador's face. Was everyone against him now?

"You are very generous, Premier Wen," Cowen said, getting to his feet. "Our farmers and universities will be delighted." "Farmers? Universities?" Wen asked, looking confused. "Our heavenly republic is sufficient in these things. No, Mr Brian. We wish to take an equity stake in your country."

Now it was Cowen's turn to look confused.

"It is our choice of loan for your homeland," Wen continued. "A homeland choice loan, if you will. You do not earn enough to borrow what you need. So we will lend you a percentage and own the rest."

Something about this offer sounded vaguely familiar.

"Which parts of Ireland would you like to own?" Cowen asked.

"Only the new parts," Wen replied. "That is between eight and 30 per cent, would you say?"

"I would say 30 per cent of Ireland is worth a lot."

"We will say what Ireland is worth!" Wen shouted, suddenly furious.

"We will say what it is worth now, and we will say what it is worth when our loan is due. Do not talk down the market in small countries, you capitalist dog!"

Wen clapped his hands and a party official appeared bearing a sheaf of glossy brochures.

"Our Overseas Development Agency offers credit for many fine countries," Wen continued. "Convenient locations like Sudan, Bolivia and Zimbabwe. Exciting lifestyle and contemporary finish. You borrow now!"

A hush settled over the Great Hall of the People's Small Foyer of the Foreigners as the premier's exclamation echoed away.

"So let me get this straight," Cowen said, after a respectful pause. "You want us to take out a huge loan in relation to our income, right at the start of a recession, to finance the part-purchase of a depreciating asset. You want to base that loan on your own valuation, which is based in turn on your own party interests, regardless of market conditions. But you want us to repay the loan at market rates, through this recession and probably the next one, on pain of losing everything. And at the end of the term you will still own your initial percentage, based once again on your own valuation, which we still have to find a way of paying back?"

"Correct, Mr Brian," Wen said.

"Fair enough," Cowen replied. "Can you waive stamp duty?"

"There is a one per cent levy," Wen murmured. "But I suppose we could have some movement around the edges."

More officials appeared and papers were signed. The audience was concluded. Now only the final formalities remained.

"You must visit my country, or should I say our country," Cowen remarked, bowing as he backed out of the room.

"I cannot risk travelling to Ireland, for health reasons," Wen replied.

"Are you ill?" Cowen asked, as he reached the door.

"Oh no, not at all," Wen said. "But I am nearly 70."