They came from across the country, and right across the spectrum of the Left. George Orwell, if he were around, might observe that at a Labour party conference these days everybody is of the Left, but some are far more Left than others.

Over 1,000 delegates showed up at the Helix to hear how Ireland can do better with Labour. Suitably, this wasn't a lavish affair, no bells and whistles, just coffee and biscuits, and roses for sale at Euro3. These people are convinced that it will be a good year for the roses.

And why wouldn't it be?

Delegates mingled with a spring in their step and a pep in their spring, as befitting a group who are on a two-way bet.

There was no mention of the elephant in the theatre.

Every so often, speakers gave a nod in the direction of Fine Gael, and while there was a lashing here and there for Fianna Fáil, it was poor Mickey Mac and the PDs who were the real target.

Inside the Mahony Hall, the speeches were directed at the electorate. Outside, the stalls were for the faithful.

Labour Youth plastered the complex with posters saluting the Rossport Five, and damning the military flights through Shannon. How in the name of Jim Connolly is Pat Rabbitte going to go into power with the big boys while that oul stuff is flying about?

Still, that's the beauty of a party conference these days.

It allows everybody to let off a bit of steam. The most interesting sideshow was a workshop on the Rossport Five organised by Labour Youth, where the keynote speaker was Micheál �? Seighin, one of the Rossport Five. Micheál is, or certainly was, a member of Sinn Féin, which must make his appearance the youngsters' answer to Rabbitte bringing Enda Kenny to a party shindig last year.

Proinsias de Rossa was unpacking books for sale at another stall. "What is Proinsias de Rossa giving out?"

one delegate wondered. "I'm selling, " the MEP explained.

"Selling out, " he laughed.

Inside the hall, the serious business of grasping for power was underway. Appropriately for a carefully choreographed piece of theatre, an usher trawled the outer environs, ringing a bell to call delegates to their seats. The performance is about to begin.

Michael D opened proceedings, addressing delegates as "Comrades" (block your ears FG and FF). He delivered a typically passionate speech that temporarily warmed up the hall.

It finished with, "That's what should be done, what can be done and when we enter government, comrades, what will be done." The comrades showed their appreciation.

Ultimately, though, the comrades were thin on the ground.

Apart from the youngsters and the Grand Old Man of the Party, few others gave a nod at the ultimate equality moniker.

Joanna Tuffy sneaked in a "comrade", but Derek McDowell hit a more resounding note when he referred to "us social democrats".

Then Eamon Gilmore dragged matters into the lower depths of rhetoric by suggesting that like Croke Park, Labour would be answering Ireland's Call.

He offered up Ireland's answer to the call. "It's Labour, Labour, Labour, " said he, sounding like a pregnant woman facing into the last, painful hours of carrying.

As for policies? There were five key promises in the areas of health, schools, gardaí, carers and houses. But who, this time around, will really be voting for policies?

Labour are offering change, but whether it's big change or small change, only the electorate and fate will tell.