The Roscommon-born developer is reported to be in the red for €1.5bn through his company Ballymore Properties. Mulryan kept a relatively low profile, although he did consort with the glitterati. He got involved with Sunderland football club through the consortium that bought it in 2006, and claimed at one point that Roy Keane was invited to be manager at his suggestion. He is also a big racing fan, and his company sponsored the Kildare football team.
Last year, his company cut its workforce of 500 by 10%, as part of a restructuring to take account of the new dispensation. In January, he arrived back on earth when he sold his Dassault Falcon 900 jet. He lives on a 230-acre stud farm in Ballymore Eustace, Co Kildare.
The former tax inspector was one of the golden boys of the property bubble. His forte was putting together consortiums to buy big and reap serious rewards. In 2008, as the property market began to crumble, Quinlan moved, lock, stock and barrel, to Switzerland.
He was a reluctant entrant to Nama as he tried to put together a plan that would enable him to pay off debts of around €600m. In recent months, one of his prized lifestyle assets, a motor yacht, has been repossessed by an arm of Bank of Scotland. The boat was valued at over €5m.
He is also expected to put the three houses he owns on the exclusive Ailesbury Road up for sale as a result of negotiations with Nama, which wants all its big borrowers to reduce their personal assets.
Johnny, won't you please come home. Johnny Ronan and Richard Barrett built up a property empire under the Treasury banner and were known as aggressive, tough businessmen. In the latter days of the bubble, they made serious shapes in China, where Barrett began to base himself.
Their vehicle, Real Estate Opportunities, which is developing the Battersea Power station, last year posted losses approaching €1bn. Nama is taking control of around €450m of REO debts.
Meanwhile, Ronan has taken a back seat. His decision to step aside was prompted by the generation of headlines involving a spur-of-the-moment decision to fly former Miss World Rosanna Davison to Morocco on a whim. Prior to that, he was involved in a high-profile incident with his then girlfriend, Glenda Gilson, on the streets of Ranelagh. If you were to bet on one outfit rising like the phoenix in the new world order, put the dollar on these boys. Ronan may be down, the champers may be corked, but they will be back, kicking ass like the tough guys they like to think themselves to be.
The future for Gannon will not be freebies at the K Club, to which he is perfectly entitled as a 49% owner of the exclusive resort. He announced two months ago that he is offloading his shareholding, which is expected to fetch around €60m. He said he was making the move because, as a Nama guy, he "could not expect the taxpayer to fund an exclusive loss-making club in Co Kildare".
Gannon is a native of Roscommon, who began his ascent in London over 30 years ago, working for his father's construction firm. He was also one of the Maple 10, who put the shoulder to the wheel for Anglo Irish when men good and true were required to rescue the bank from the clutches of Sean Quinn's 25% stakeholding.
Gannon is often seen sporting a fetching trilby, and is currently building a mansion in Howth. Among the other homes in his or his wife's names are a stately manor on the Shannon, a pad in the K Club and another mansion on Elgin Road in Dublin.
Barrett is a former teacher who left the profession to seek his fortune in hotels. He developed the likes of the five-star G Hotel in Galway. He also owns Hatch Hall, which may well be salubrious, but still holds no attractions for the asylum seekers who are refusing to go there from Mosney.
In the filed accounts of two of his companies, Edward Holdings and Radical, net liabilities of €35m were recorded in 2008. While that might seem like small change in today's world of billions, the auditors noted that the sum "may cast significant doubt" on the companies' ability to continue as a going concern. Among Barrett's developments is Ashford Castle in Co Mayo, which is thought to have escaped the vice-like grip of Nama.
Where do you start? McNamara is a former Fianna Fáil councillor who was one of the poster boys for the bubble. His biggest headache is the glass bottle site in Ringsend, which has him on the rack for tens of millions from bank loans and €62m from other investors. The sheriff visited him at home a few months ago and carted away artworks on foot of an order obtained by investors who are owed €2.6m. Ironically, it's the little sums that tripped him up, while he grapples to harbour his €1.4bn in loans in the calm waters of Nama.
He has now departed from his company Michael McNamara and Sons, but whether this parting of ways is rooted in spirit, reality or convenience remains to be seen.
At the height of the bubble, McNamara was a great man for winning public/private partnership contracts, but when the worm turned, he pulled out of the ones involving social housing in Dublin's inner city.
Despite his woes, he builds on. His company is currently involved in a cinema development in Tallaght.
McNamara also won the €40m contract to develop a cystic fibrosis unit in St Vincent's Hospital in Dublin, but despite the solidity of the contract, the company was unable to drum up the finance.
Joe, Peter and Michael Cosgrave learned the building game at their father's knee. While still in their early 20s, they began house-building in west Dublin, followed by five sites in Stillorgan. Over the last 20 years, they grew into one of the biggest housebuilders in the country.
One of their most high-profile development plans was the redevelopment of Dun Laoghaire golf club. That now looks like a Nama banana. They also own the Radisson SAS hotel in Booterstown which was built for €38m.
Unlike many of the other Nama frontliners, the brothers dealt mostly with the two main banks. Their debts with Anglo Irish are believed to amount to a relatively modest €110m, but overall they are heading for the €1bn mark.
Say it ain't so, Joe. Last Sunday a tabloid newspaper located high-profile O'Reilly to a holiday resort in an exclusive corner of Portugal. O'Reilly was snapped in a swimming pool. He was wearing a pair of shorts. He was topping up his tan. Where once, Seanie Fitz declared that developers of Joe's ilk had "balls", now all we are left with is brass neck. Is a staycation too much for you, Joe?
O'Reilly is a native of Longford who has been Nama-ed for over half a billion. At the height of the boom, he sold one of his developments to Anglo Irish Bank for €101m, which in hindsight shows that if there are any flies on this boy, they are paying top-dollar rent.
He also developed the Dundrum Town Centre – which is really a shopping centre – through his Castlethorn company. Joe also answered the call when Anglo had to resolve its Quinn issue.
Like a lot of his mates, he too has transferred properties into his wife's name over the last few years. When he's not sunning himself in Portugal, he lives in Foxrock, which can, on a good day, also catch a few rays.
O'Flynn is MD of O'Flynn construction. Last September, he suggested that developers have more of a say in the running of Nama. Contrary to reports that he was really engaging in a new stand-up comedy career, he was perfectly serious.
One of O'Flynn's companies was appropriately called Tiger Developments. Unlike some of the Nama boys, O'Flynn is regarded as a modest individual with a reputation for work of the highest standards. His companies have projects involving over €1bn, most of which is now with Nama.
Last year, during a court case to determine whether his companies should go into liquidation, it emerged that Carroll had lost €260m in shares since 2007. He has lost a lot more since then.
The application to have a receiver appointed to Carroll's companies was resisted by the Irish banks, but as it turned out Nama couldn't happen fast enough for Carroll. A receiver was appointed, but the loans pertaining to Irish banks still went into Nama when it was established three months after Carroll's court case.
For years, he was synonymous with the shoebox apartments that sprung up all over Dublin, but in latter years he was known for applying high standards.
Carroll always lived modestly in south Co Dublin and shuns publicity of any sort.