MINISTER for Finance Brian Lenihan, reeling at reports that he had said officials in his Department did not grasp the scale of the financial crisis, yesterday hit back at the author of the assertion -- celebrity economist David McWilliams -- by claiming that McWilliams had sought but did not get a job as his "special adviser".

Last night, however, McWilliams rubbished the suggestion that he had sought employment from Mr Lenihan, or from anybody in Government, and he accused "the establishment" of attempting to discredit him.

"They can't handle the truth," McWilliams said.

In his new book, Follow the Money, McWilliams gives an extraordinary account of a late-night meeting which took place between himself and Mr Lenihan at the height of the banking crisis last year.

He described how a "nervous and fidgety" Mr Lenihan called to his home in a suit that "looked as if he'd slept in it". He said the Minister "had heavy bags under his eyes, his tie was undone"; he gave the impression that he was "quite isolated" from officials in his Department, and was "sceptical" of advice he was receiving from the Financial Regulator and the Central Bank.

In effect, McWilliams, in his book, says the concept of a State bank guarantee was outlined in detail by him to the Minister during their meeting on September 17 last year. Officials in the Department of Finance, however, were working on a similar scheme, a partial guarantee, prior to the meeting.

Last night another Cabinet minister, Willie O'Dea, waded into the controversy, declaring: "Even if McWilliams's view of events is true, which I don't believe for a minute, his conduct now is both shabby and dishonourable. As far as I'm concerned, the affair between David McWilliams and David McWilliams will endure as one of the great love stories of all times."

But McWilliams said Mr O'Dea's intervention was "just another example" of how the Government "plays the man, not the ball".

He said: "Sometimes there are bigger issues than personal interests -- they just don't get that because their noses have been in the trough for so long."

He added: "I didn't put into the book half of what I know went on at the time -- if people only knew the half of it -- because I like Brian [Lenihan], and I know him well, and I will never disclose it."

Nevertheless, a clearly wounded Mr Lenihan yesterday desperately sought to limit potentially serious damage to his reputation, and that of his officials, by now seeking to pick holes in McWilliams's published account of the meeting between them.

The Finance Minister is understood to be particularly upset at McWilliams's claim that he had said officials in his Department did not understand the enormity of the unfolding financial crisis.

In his book, McWilliams says of Mr Lenihan: "He gave me the impression that he was quite isolated from his officials. He repeated again and again, 'They just don't get it; we don't have much time'."

Mr Lenihan was also said to have eaten cloves of raw garlic to keep alert during the meeting between them, a bizarre image which now may follow the Finance Minister throughout his political career.

Yesterday, Mr Lenihan told the Sunday Independent he was "amazed" at McWilliams's account.

"I don't know where he is coming from. I'm just amazed," the minister said. Then he added, of McWilliams: "The truth is he was looking for a job as my special adviser."

A position as Mr Lenihan's special adviser subsequently went to the NUI Galway economics lecturer Alan Ahearne, affording him unprecedented access and influence at one of the most significant moments in the history of the State.

Yesterday, Dr Ahearne did not want to be drawn into the controversy.

He confirmed that he, too, had met with Mr Lenihan during the banking crisis. He said they discussed a wide range of issues, including the banking crisis. Asked about McWilliams's claims, Mr Ahearne said: "The Minister never said anything to me about his officials not 'getting it'."

By claiming that McWilliams had allegedly sought and failed to secure such a position for himself, the minister is clearly attempting to ascribe motive to the economist's account of the meeting between them on September 17 last.

Yesterday, a spokesman for Mr Lenihan claimed that the minister had only agreed to the meeting because McWilliams had been "pestering him" for a long time.

He also said that McWilliams's claim that the meeting between them continued until 2am was wrong.

"The minister was out in the area, but was running late. Rather than agreeing to meet him somewhere else, and keep him waiting, he said he would call in to the house.

"He only took the meeting because McWilliams had been pestering to meet him. Much of how McWilliams describes what occurred at that meeting contrasts sharply with the minister's recollection."

Last night, McWilliams said: "My view is that the establishment in Ireland always ridicules the man first because they can't handle the truth. First of all, I note that the minister is not denying that the meeting happened.

"But what is happening now is similar to what had happened when I first warned that property was overvalued and that the banks were facing collapse. Bertie Ahern said people like me should commit suicide. It seems to be 'play the man, not the ball' time again."

In relation to Mr Lenihan's specific claims, McWilliams said: "At the time I was about to go to Australia to make my Follow the Money programme which was recently broadcast on RTE. How in God's name would I be looking for a job from the minister, or from anyone in Government?"

In relation to Mr Lenihan's claim that the meeting between them had ended long before 2am, McWilliams said: "It wasn't 2am? Okay. But it was very late. It was very, very late."

In relation to Mr Lenihan's claim that he had been "pestering" the Minister for a meeting, McWilliams said: "The first time I called the Minister was that afternoon. He was around at my house five hours later. Go figure, as the Yanks say."

In his book, McWilliams writes: "On Wednesday, September 17, at 10.20 in the evening, there was a knock on our front door. Our bell was broken, so the visitor had to knock loudly...

"I had only once met the Minister before and that had been in an RTE radio studio for Saturday View less than two weeks previously, on September 6. That day he was confident and calm.

"The man who appeared at my door was a different character. There was still the confidence and yet he was nervous and fidgety. His suit looked as if he'd slept in it. He had heavy bags under his eyes, his tie was undone...

"The Minister walked straight through the hall and headed directly into the kitchen as if he knew where he was going. Jaded, he sat down and turned off his phone...

"Taking note of his 12 o'clock shadow and red eyes, I suggested that he should catch a kip too. He said he'd doze off in the car on the way home.

"Then he pulled a bulb of garlic out of his pocket and started to peel it. It was one of the odd moments in a long night of odd moments. In subsequent meetings, the raw garlic was produced and squashed into bowls of soup. This time he just peeled a clove and left it on the table.

"He explained to me that the garlic gave him strength and kept him healthy and alert. I had no reason to doubt him. He went on to say that he had been chomping raw garlic all summer, since he'd got the Finance job...

"He gave me the impression that he was quite isolated from his officials. He repeated again and again, 'They just don't get it; we don't have much time'.

"It was also obvious that he was, at best, sceptical about the advice he was getting. Given the spin that was coming out of the Government, I wasn't too surprised and I was quite relieved that he doubted the Regulator and the governor of the Central Bank when they continued to parrot platitudes about the banks being fine and being stress-tested...

"He kicked off by saying if his officials knew he was here in my house, there'd be war. They thought I was a maverick. I took it as a compliment.

"He got to the point quickly. He was sitting opposite me and he had a habit of looking around, rather than catching my eye, as if he expected someone to join us at any minute. I told him we were on our own, just the pair of us and the puppy...

"He leaned over and, in a hoarse voice, almost whispering, he said: 'What would you do?'"

- JODY CORCORAN and DANIEL McCONNELL

Originally published in