Biggest George since Best enters the Dáil

THE tingle of anticipation was electric. He would soon be among us – the biggest George since Best, the best George since the dragon – surely, Ireland would never be the same again.

Those in the gathering crowds wondered how the magnificent Mr Lee would make his fabled entrance into Leinster House. Would he just descend from the sky? Would he gallop towards it on a sturdy white stallion with his raised sword of truth glistening in the sunshine?

Or, like Moses, would he be found in a reed basket wrapped in swaddling clothes by the banks of the Liffey before leading us all to the Promised Land of counter cyclical endogenous growth theory?