The focus groups have spoken.

Everybody is on message.

Way out on the right, raging against the dying light, Michael McDowell donned a hard hat and commandeered a green truck last week. Holding the centre ground, diligent Fianna Fail TD Pat Carey issued a constituency brochure entitled 'Protecting Your Planet'. Yes, a Fianna Failer taking on the woolly jumpers on their own patch.

At the opposite end of the spectrum, Sinn Fein's Pearse Doherty told Sean O'Rourke on Friday of his concern about carbon emissions. The Shinners can claim the green high ground, now that they're no longer polluting the island with cordite emissions.

Poor Charlie McCreevy over there in Brussels must think the nation has gone dyslexic. Green, not greed, is fuelling the election mojo. Different country, Charlie, and you can't blame Fr Sean Healy for this one.

Out in front are the brand leaders themselves, the Green Party. On Tuesday, their top people released details of shining, new economic and taxation policies.

According to the economist boffins in attendance, these people have left the woolly jumpers behind.

"The Irish economy has been inflated by some factors that may not exist in the medium term, " party finance spokesman Dan Boyle told the press. Put that medium term in your pipe and smoke it, Mr Cowen. These boys know where it's at, going forward and adding value to beat the band.

Then, on Wednesday, just as you thought they had gone all serious, the Green cabinet-in-waiting met in the centre of Dublin for a picnic. A picnic? In the middle of an election campaign? Don't hang up the sandals yet, lads.

They are in the driving seat.

Most of the other parties acknowledge this, the abuse from Fianna Fail in particular having dried up over the past few months. The alliance and the soldiers of destiny are both now in full courtship mode, doing their damnedest to get the woollies into bed.

The only exception is McDowell. Through the week he potted shot after shot at the Greens. They fish in similar middle-class ponds. Last time out, the PeeDees blossomed. Now it's all Green energy and McDowell is refusing to go gently into that political night. His tactic seems to be 'Read my lips, you're hearing things. I am not engaged in negative campaigning.'

Then he issues statements like: "This is not negative campaigning. This is a factf the Green Party is leading Irish people down a cul de sac." For their part, the PDs' slogan is 'Don't throw it all away', which sounds like a lyric from a song about the end of a love affair. And maybe it is.

The greatest campaigner of them all was a bit green too if he thought all that money stuff would go up in smoke. On Wednesday, he trawled what should have been a safe patch, Dublin city centre, north of the river.

Down Henry Street he sallied, a media scrum in his wake, as he shook hands for Ireland. Bertie Ahern was not himself. A few brickbats about money and houses were lobbed his way. When not actually engaging with his beloved electorate, a grim countenance haunted his features.

But Bertie in second gear is still a sight to behold. The grip remains firm, the eye contact solid. And when the space allowed, he managed to use his left hand to find a voter's elbow, an old trick perfected by his buddy Bill Clinton.

Twenty years with the seat of a Merc under his posterior has not robbed him of the common touch. On Moore Street, a chap engaged him on the tribulations of being homeless. Bertie lent him an ear and asked about the availability of various hostels, like the Morning Star.

He handled it well and called to mind an incident in Election '02 when the then Labour leader Ruairi Quinn was accosted by a homeless man on the streets of Wicklow town. Ruairi saw him coming, reached into his suit pocket, extracted a note from his wallet and offered it as the price of peace. The man without a home complied and retreated.

Quinn's successor is more old Labour, even if he is a Johnny Come Lately to the party. On Thursday, Pat Rabbitte threw himself at the mercy of 11-year-old pupils in north Dublin's Balrothery national school.

The kids were on message.

They asked Rabbitte about the provision of cycle lanes, recycling depots and the fallout from bad planning. Pat batted well, but occasionally his face melted into the helpless features of Kermit the Frog. Sometimes, it's not easy bein' green.

Then he took to the streets of Balbriggan, handing out playing cards bearing "my five personal commitments for change". At times, he looked like he might outBertie Bertie. He moves lightfooted down the street, slightly hunched, arms wide as if he means business, like a footballer in the pre-match procession from those blackand-white newsreels from Croke Park, ready for action, lapping up this precursor to the main event.

On Friday, Rabbitte took his place next to Enda Kenny, as the Alliance for Change reported to the media on their progress towards the citadel.

Change was the buzzword.

Enda, with his Wyatt Earp eyes ("You better take me seriously"), could barely complete a sentence without inserting the word "change".

Change is coming up on the inside behind green. Around the corner at the PD conference, McDowell was extolling the virtues of health minister Mary Harney, saying she represents change. Harney has held the portfolio for twoand-a-half years. Change, in PD land, obviously comes slowly.

To give the party their due, they are tops for gimmicks.

Their Friday fare included a mock ballot paper for minister for health. It included Harney, Liam Twomey, Liz McManus, John Gormley and, laughably, Caoimhghin O Caolain. The absence of a Fianna Fail candidate on the ballot implies that if the PDs are returned to government with only one seat at cabinet, then Harney will occupy it.

Careful what you wish for, Mick.

Back at the Alliance gig, a dumbass reporter had the temerity to suggest that the FG/Labour policies differed from Fianna Fail's only in nuance. "You are quite wrong, " Liz McManus haughtily informed dumbass, pointing out that the government wanted to privatise the health service. Presumably, Lady Wicklow will be able to manage change herself if a Merc is dangled before her in a possible FF/Labour administration.

Meanwhile, out in the plains of west and north Dublin, Socialist TD Joe Higgins foraged away, attempting to double his party's complement by adding Clare Daly's name to his own in the Dail.

And the Shinners bussed in the glamour boys among their Northern brethren to push against the notion that they have already peaked south of the border.

By the end of the week, Bertie's team was taking to the provinces, careful to minimise their carbon footprint as they fanned out across the midlands.

They remain nervous. The team leader is still not himself. It's time, to use footballing parlance, for Bertie to watch his house. A dingdong struggle has been joined.

Keep the head down.

They're all coming to a doorstep near you.