At 2.25pm on Tuesday, the homing call begins to sound. All around the environs of Leinster House a bell tolls to summon TDs to their chamber. The boys and girls drift towards the citadel to begin their legislative week.

Leinster House has been open for business since 7.30am on Monday morning. Apart from a few committee meetings in the hours before the Dáil resumes, the main business of Leinster House – debating and passing legislation – kicks off when the working week for most people is well underway.

First up is a round of parliamentary questions. There are four government TDs present, including two ministers. The opposition benches contain 10 members. Every other one of the 166 seats is unoccupied. Upstairs in the public gallery, behind a pane of glass, around 70 members of the public are there to bear witness to the frontline of democracy. Above them, the roof of the chamber rises in a dome of glass, providing the only natural light for the chamber.

Government chief whip John Curran is answering questions from a prepared script. A number of deputies are holding their mobile phones like weapons to fight off boredom. In an environment top-heavy with rules and regulations, texting is banned in the House. Nobody pays a blind bit of notice to that rule.

The chamber begins to thicken with deputies after 4pm in anticipation of the highpoint of leader's questions 15 minutes later. This is where the party leaders have a bit of a set-to about the issues of the day, at least, allegedly so.

Enda Kenny stands up and tries to look angry but fails miserably. Brian Cowen bats him off. Eamon Gilmore stands up and succeeds in looking angry. He asks whether Cowen knew that Anglo Irish was insolvent on the night of the bank guarantee in 2008. "No I didn't," Cowen replies. There are dark days ahead, but at this set piece Gilmore is chasing the soundbite on a matter of which the public has long made up its mind. The texting traffic thins out during leaders' questions.

Within 20 minutes, the first parliamentary schemozzle gets underway. This consists of shouting, roaring and heckling before the ceann comhairle rings a bell and brings everyone to heel.

Next up is order of business, which involves talking about what the House will talk about for the rest of the day. Sinn Féin deputy Caoimhghín Ó Caoláin gets to his feet. There is a stampede for the door. Throughout the week, the first sounds of Ó Caoláin's mellifluous tones habitually prompts an exodus from the House.

Oireachtas an irrelevancy

There is a growing body of opinion which suggests the Oireachtas is an irrelevancy in national governance. De facto power is almost exclusively the preserve of the executive. Those who occupy the Dáil and the Seanad talk, shout and roar before bedding down as voting fodder. The system can accommodate serious debate, but those who have serious contributions to make usually save them for elsewhere. Politics, and by extension governance, has suffered greatly as a result of the system, but that's the way the crowd in power likes it, and the next crowd will be unlikely to relinquish any power when they get their turn.

There are 463 people employed to service the Oireachtas with a wage bill of €26m a year. Between July '09 and July 2010, the Dáil sat for just 100 days.

On Wednesday morning, the financial regulator Matthew Elderfield appears before the Oireachtas Committee on Regulatory Affairs. The committees meet in the basement of Leinster House 2000, the extended wing of the main building. LH2000 is all glass and light, a sharp contrast to the existing building, which reeks of history, but lets in little light.

The committee rooms are circular affairs with low ceilings, like something out of a movie featuring the Pentagon. A number of TDs and a single senator question Elderfield about a range of issues currently to the fore. Politicians often refer to the good work done by committees, and it's true that those who have something to offer can shine in this forum. Much information is extracted by the more astute parliamentarians. The quality of the fare is probably due to the fact that committees interact not with each other, but with citizens from beyond the Leinster House bubble.

Most of the work of the committees ends up gathering dust in reports which the cabinet discards if it doesn't conform to the cabinet's agenda. There were 728 Oireachtas meetings in the year to last July.

Back in the Dáil, it is leaders' questions once more and Eamon Gilmore is angry. He is talking about e-voting machines, which were a major waste of money, and have no relevance to the current crisis, but are always good for a soundbite.

"For the next two years, every medical card holder in the country will be paying 50c per item when filling in a prescription in a pharmacy in order to pay back the €50m the government wasted in electronic voting," he said. With that, the Labour leader sits down, managing to look both angry and smug. Cowen just looks tired and half beaten. During leaders' questions, the texting traffic is fair to middling.

Upstairs in the public gallery, a group of schoolchildren gets up to leave while the Taoiseach is on his feet. Last year, there were 103,315 visitors to Leinster House. The majority reportedly regard the experience as very positive.

At 2.25pm, a different homing call sounds out. This one has a long toll followed by a short – a jazzed-up version of the homing call for the Dáil. And why not, because the Seanad is a jazzed-up version of the Dáil, featuring the odd intelligent debate and a better class of knockabout craic.

The Seanad didn't sit on Tuesday last week, because, well, because the government side didn't want to sit. The Seanad meets in what must once have been a large reception room, with high windows and a high ceiling adorned with some lovely cornices. Large leather chairs are laid out in an arc for the members. The chairs are so big, senators could easily get lost in them, or fall into a deep sleep to dream about future days in the lower house.

The sight of a reporter in the chamber must be highly unusual. Many senators approach and offer warm words of welcome. Others stare as if at an exotic creature who has just landed from the world outside. As far as media attention goes, these people are a neglected species, which is a pity, but inevitable in the system that exists.

Decor and drama

The order of business progresses in a civil manner, until Eoghan Harris spits fire at Fine Gael. "How dare you," the Blueshirts leader, Frances Fitzgerald, cries in reply. "How dare you." Between the decor and the drama, Oscar Wilde would have made hay in this place.

Across the corridor in the Dáil, the transport minister is answering parliamentary questions. Noel Dempsey stands and reads the answers from a script. There are three other deputies in the House. Between 3.10pm and 3.40pm, he answers at least eight questions from TDs, none of whom are present to hear his answers.

In the Dáil term in the year to July last, a total of 53,222 parliamentary questions were processed. According to the Oireachtas Commission, the Dáil ranks first in a survey of 13 national parliaments in terms of questions asked.

This implies either that TDs are highly inquisitive and knowledgeable, or else they fire in any oul' questions at the drop of a hat. There is no data on how many questions are answered in the absence of the questioner.

Later that same evening, back in the Seanad, junior minister Conor Lenihan is sitting in on a debate on a private members' bill. There are four members present for the debate. The minister nods sagely as points are being made. Shortly before 7pm, he is relieved by his colleague, Mary White. Lenihan gets up to leave, looking like a man who is finding it hard to tear himself away from the scintillating parliamentary fare.

Wednesday evening is usually a late sitting in the Dáil. Last week, there was a debate on a private members' bill on health cuts. Junior minister Martin Mansergh was one of the first speakers at 7.15pm.

'No decisions likely'

He referred to rumours of cuts in hospital services in his constituency, but concluded, "I am satisfied that no decisions are likely in the lifetime of this Dáil." Finding solace in the failure to reach decisions on matters of policy sounds like a strange way for a legislator to do business, but that's the way the system operates.

The debate concludes at 11.15pm. Once the House rises, about two hours are given for members to wind down or get their things together or have a jar, before the gates close.

Security in Leinster House is provided by a section working to the superintendent of the Oireachtas who oversees a complement of around 50 parliamentary ushers. These employees are multi-taskers, covering security, House attendance and visitation. In this, their role probably resembles that of a steward in a cruise liner, and they certainly run a smooth ship.

Thursday dawns with another interesting Oireachtas committee meeting. The Public Accounts Committee is examining a HSE audit about more wasted money. Down there, in the bowels of LH2000, they earn their crust. Last year, the pay for the 166 TDs came to €17m, while other costs associated with their keep and wellbeing amounted to just shy of €10m.

Over in the Dáil, Tánaiste Mary Coughlan is taking leaders' questions. The Taoiseach doesn't attend the Dáil on Thursdays because he has better things to be doing with his time. Sometimes, it can be great craic when the Tánaiste takes questions, but on Thursday, there wasn't much happening.

Afterwards it's back to the order of business. Members drift out. Fine Gael's Bernard Durkan gets to his feet. Bernard is a top-notch heckler, but when he begins to talk on Thursday, many leave, others engage in conversation, and nobody really listens to what he is saying.

The leas ceann comhairle Brendan Howlin intervenes. "Would the House pay some attention to Deputy Durkan, please." Reluctantly, the House hears Bernard out.

As the day drifts on, many parliamentarians head for the hills. There is rarely a vote on a Thursday afternoon, as it might impede the progress of deputies retuning to their constituencies. The Seanad finishes up at 2pm, but there's still a few hours left in the in the Dáil for this week. Minister for Justice Dermot Ahern spends a share of the afternoon answering priority questions. At 3.30pm, he is dealing with the subject of paramilitaries. There is one other deputy in the House. Alan Shatter is asking questions. Some minutes later, the two boys are joined by Pat Rabbitte.

Matters on adjournment follow, and a few more TDs show up. One is James Bannon, who must be congratulated on his dedication to the job. Bannon represents the midlands and for such a representative to be still within the environs of Leinster House at this late hour is indeed commendable. The issue up for debate is: 'The position regarding the national network of cycle paths'. At 5.25pm, the lights go down and the Dáil adjourns until 2.30pm next Tuesday.

Friday is a quiet day in the seat of democracy. Last Friday was open house day, in which visitors were brought on architectural tours of the building. Parliamentarians were thin on the ground. Most of them were hard at work in the other element of their job spec – representing the constituency.

Long hours are put in with clinics, funerals and displaying the patience of Job and the ear of a social worker. All of which has precious little to do with legislating in the national interest, but that's the system, and there is no will to change it.