Immediately, he changed direction and headed across the street, directly into the field of the protesters' fire, his hand outstretched to unsuspecting pedestrians everywhere. He oozed the confidence of one who had been crowned king for a day in a city that hands out plaudits sparingly.

The message was clear. Bertie is back and even these Shell to Sea protesters were not going to spoil it. In Cork, he was king for the day.

They mobbed him wherever he went in the five Cork constituencies on Friday. In Mitchelstown, the assistant principal of the CBS described him as "the legendary taoiseach" and "a man of wisdom". Ahern was shown through a recently opened extension to the school. Nobody was saying it loudly, but an application for the facility was first lodged all of 10 years ago.

Cork has always had a soft spot for Ahern (didn't his parents emigrate from the People's Republic? ) but Friday's march of triumph held far greater significance. He looked the campaigner of old, eager to engage and sprinkle his magic.

Thursday's debate and the panic fast spreading through his organisation seem to have energised him. The comeback starts here. The kid has shed all that ails him.

Up to the tail end of the week, Ahern's campaign had been a disaster. Those who trail him speak of a lethargy, fuelled by a sense of hurt, often visible in his countenance and gait. It's as if he can't fathom why the nation doesn't fall at his feet after all he's done for peace and prosperity. And then that business about his house and dig-outs and money falling out of trees into his pockets. So what? It was all a long time ago and isn't the past dead and buried and with Charlie Haughey in the grave?

Bertie off his game His sense of grievance, allied to the hames he made of the starting gun, holed Fianna Fail below the waterline. Bertie is the campaign. When he is not on his game, a nervous frisson runs through the Soldiers of Destiny. Now, they have five days to sort things out, and reclaim their place in the seat of power.

While Ahern dithered, Enda Kenny has bloomed. He has been the real story of the campaign, illustrating the further rebalancing of style over substance in modern politics.

Last week, he had about him the air of one who is trying hard to keep it all together for a few more days. It's as if in quiet moments he finds a mirror and addresses himself in measured tones: "Hold tough lad, keep the head. Mission Impossible is nearly complete." The big job is in his grasp. The late flowering of Enda Kenny is coming on a treat.

On Thursday morning, he leaps from his car in the grounds of St Thomas national school in the western Dublin suburb of Lucan. His wife Fionnuala, up in the big smoke for the leader's debate, emerges also. Family values, how're you doin'?

The scrum gathers round and moves in his wake.

Three weeks ago, Kenny noted that there was a time when some didn't take him seriously as a politician. Inda is no longer a joke. He has had a good war. If he doesn't end up top of the tree, there will be no post-mortems in his camp. There will be no recriminations in the Fine Gael party. Irrespective of the outcome, maximum potential has been squeezed from the candidate and the operation to outBertie Bertie.

Already, he is a winner of sorts. A snapshot of his achievements was on view the previous week in Longford shopping centre. Kenny arrived through sheets of rain to a tumultuous reception from the party faithful. The place was crawling with excited Blueshirts.

Local candidate James Bannon is being strongly tipped to take a seat from the PDs. He introduced Kenny as "the next taoiseach" and while there was much whooping and hollering, nobody was laughing. "People are coming out in droves to see this man, " Bannon roared.

"Ten years is too long, it's time for change, " Enda told them. He has instilled belief in an outfit that was bound for the knacker's yard after the disaster of 2002. Some job for a fellow who for 25odd years of his parliamentary life had the air of a Jack the happy-go-lucky lad.

Now, he may go the next steps to the taoiseach's office. With policy differences all but redundant (certainly until FG costing flaws were exposed in Thursday's debate), and a growing appetite for change, the character of the prospective taoiseach has come to the fore. Enda has grabbed the opportunity.

Back in Lucan, the school principal Michael Maher gives him the rundown. Over one in four of the 463 pupils is what is now called an international student. They come from 32 different countries. The place is bursting at the seams.

There is a shortage of language teachers. The problems of prosperity are not being managed.

And who walks through the door but the Wizard of Change, bearing promises and extending his hand.

He loves schools. There, the wooden gait that sometimes haunts his campaign melts away. At other times, this lark doesn't come naturally. On the streets of Mullingar 10 days ago, he threw out a hand to a man who told him of recently losing his brother to a fatal traffic accident. "Was the car a write-off?" Enda inquired, stumbling through the man's pain in search of a connection.

No shoe leather spared Yet despite the occasional awkwardness, he tries for Ireland. He moves at the speed of light, which affords him time to attempt a connection with each voter. If Ahern has the ability to make people feel like he knows them, Kenny is willing to spend time showing that he'd like to get to know them.

He spares no shoe leather. One day in the life of his campaign tour began in the outpost of Bantry and ended up in Clonmel, having put down nine different walkabouts en route, bringing his contract for change to the people.

From St Thomas national school, the circus moves on to Lucan village and a press conference in the aptly named Kenny's bar. The event is held in a small courtyard which is unable to accommodate the ballooning media presence trailing Enda. Now that his candidature is being taken more seriously, the questions harden. Surely he is too inexperienced to lead the country?

"I have the longest service of any candidate for this Dail, " he says. "I have brought this party from its knees."

Immigration is the theme of the day at the press conference. Enda's government will appoint a minister for immigration. There will be screening of immigrants for criminal records, "to ensure that no serious criminals are coming into this country".

The message encapsulates the quality of spin that substitutes for policy differences. Focus group research shows an uneasiness about immigrants, including the uninformed view that they are disproportionately responsible for crime.

Kenny's message gives a nod to the focus groups, but attempts to avoid accusations of playing the racist card. The reality is that the vast majority of immigrants are coming from EU accession states and can't realistically be screened or refused entry. But when did reality ever get in the way of election promises?

In the bigger picture, addressing the immigration question shows the difference between Kenny's campaign and that of Fianna Fail. The Fine Gael leader is presenting a vision of the future, even if the quality is paper-thin. Ignore the shallowness, feel the width.

The incumbent senior coalition partner is offering only fear, attempting to hammer home the message that we're all bound for hell in a handbasket if the economy is taken from their hands.

The song was the same at the parties' respective daily press conferences last Tuesday. The Blueshirts were decrying the cost of living.

Richard Bruton pledged effectively to take selfregulation away from both arms of the legal business. Of course it will never happen, but the message sounds only the pure finest.

Down the canal at FF HQ, Micheal Martin and Seamie Brennan were trying to tell the media that the economy was the number one issue on the doorstep. The air reeked of panic.

While Fine Gael has tapped into the well of feeling that the quality of life and cost of living are not what they should be, the Soldiers of Destiny grasp for the fear card. We're going to make you lonesome when we go.

The supporting actors are enjoying mixed fortunes. Pat Rabbitte's 'make a change' tour has traversed the state, stopping in those constituencies where Labour hopes to relive past glories. Rabbitte is well-got with the man and woman in the street, but on the whole he gives the impression that he would prefer to be filleting Bertie in the chamber.

And yet he is far more likely to be whispering in Ahern's ear on the government benches, postelection. The smart money still says Fianna Fail's late surge and the innate conservatism of the Irish people will pull back on a leap into the unknown.

Close, Enda, but no contract.

Michael McDowell epitomises fear and loathing on the campaign trail. Sensibly, he is not campaigning on his record. His one-card trick is to present the Orwellian nightmare that awaits the nation without his guiding hand.

The cranes will be gone within 18 months. The skies will darken with the clouds of recession. Fine Gael will be putty in the hands of Pat Rabbitte, a former bogeyman of the hard left. The Shinners will come out from under the bed to eat your children. The horror awaits. Leave now. All that stands between prosperity and poverty is an outfit with a mandate from 3% of the national electorate.

Through the campaign, Mac has fought valiantly to be relevant, yet despite the mockaye histrionics over Bertie's bobs, he has failed.

Green rearguard action Trevor Sargent is another trying to keep failure at bay, albeit relative in his case. With the polls showing support going south, he has fought a rearguard action. On Tuesday, he took to the streets of Dublin North Central with candidate Bronwen Maher. She was one of the party's great hopes when the polls smiled on them, but is now shaping up to engage in a proper dogfight.

Out on the wooden bridge to Dollymount strand, against the backdrop of Dublin Bay, Sean Dublin Bay Rockall Loftus gave his endorsement to Maher for the cameras. Loftus was an outrider for the environmental movement, once enjoying a brief tenure as a TD on the issue of the destruction of the bay.

Now the green issue has moved centre-stage, but the hesitancy in grasping an opportunity may well leave the Greens with 'what coulda been' question next weekend.

Bertie's X factor may be up for grabs, but there is another who retains his own, spiced up with a whiff of sulphur. When Gerry Adams canvasses through working class areas like Ballyfermot, he might as well be the pope. Or Bono.

Everybody wants to have their photo taken with him, particularly young males, a demographic which simply doesn't engage with political figures unless they've served on an army council.

In the backroom of Molloy's in Tallaght, Adams chaired the unveiling of a Tallaght strategy. The document summed up Sinn Fein's socio-economic approach. It included all that a city (Tallaght has the same population as Limerick) could ever want. It presented a vision of services for all, crime reduced to a nuisance, and the opportunity to pursue life, love and happiness.

And the cost? "No, none of it is costed as such, " says local TD Sean Crowe. Never-neverland, here we come. The Shinners know their constituency and they are en route to a good election.

Meanwhile, back in Cork, Ahern has moved on to Blackpool shopping centre. The cameras click and flash as he sits by the statue of Jack Lynch, another who prospered on his personality.

One of the staff in O'Brien's sandwich bar approaches and tells Bertie they'd love to give him a sandwich, or at least an energising drink of something. The candidate looks at his watch and offers a helpless face. If only he had the time.

But there's an election to be won and a lot of ground to be made up. He's gone in a flash, in search of an elevated perch in history.