John Gormley may once have thought that 'Planet Bertie' was an odd place, but as the Green leader waved a poignant goodbye to his former first mate, Trevor, he must have started to realise that life on Biffo's battleship is even more insane.
Some austere souls have been critical of the return of circus-style politics to the Dail, but, after last week's latest "send in the clowns" act, we can't be too critical of the lads for remaining true to their nature.
Still, there was something terribly disappointing about the resignation of not-so-clever Trevor.
The high standards set by Fianna Fail meant that we had been expecting to get a week's fun from this latest example of the Greens being caught with their ethical cassocks down around their ankles.
Instead, Trevor's resignation is believed to have necessitated a bout of collective counselling for those FF ministers who have never before been exposed to the trauma of seeing a minister resign swiftly over a moral issue.
Sadly, further emergency help was needed when Trevor donated his ministerial lump sum to charity, for that's the last sort of precedent those lads like to hear against the backdrop of Biffo sharpening that rusty old reshuffle axe.
We were even more upset to discover that there was no FF conspiracy, but Pat Rabbitte's chuckles about how the "empire had struck back" were as realistic as his previous claim about the existence of information in the Duggan case that would "rock the foundations of the State".
This lot do "stupid" better than anyone else, but even they weren't that stupid.
In spite of their innocence, the departure of Trevor still chilled FF to the bone for it is a classic example of how, if challenged on a point of principle -- unlike their former ever-so-flexible Progressive Democrat friends -- these Greens will walk.
The FF boys can only hope that Biffo knows he is going to have to mind his manners if they want to stay in the Mercs.
The Opposition continued to be hopeful that the Dublin Docklands Development Authority report would see Mr Gormley poring anxiously over the swift departures section of the Green Hitchhiker's Guide to the FF Moral Galaxy.
We suspect the worst that will happen is that the report will say: "Biffo asleep on job, Fitzy and the Anglo Irish boys run rings around dopey Finance Minister, bad Biffo."
Mr Cowen will then, in classic style, accept responsibility for his inaction by refusing to resign for his incompetence -- in the interests of the Irish people, of course -- and that will be that.
When it comes to the reshuffle, we at the Dail Sketch can only pray it occurs swiftly for we are not at ease with the prospect of keeping General Biffo in charge of the army.
With his track record, we suspect that if a couple of DUP-led loyalist marching bands crossed the border Ireland would be back within the British Empire in a day.
This concern was not eased by Mr Cowen's first act as de facto Minister for Defence which was to avoid questions on the subject of defence.
At least he is consistent, for those of us who are still "backing Biffo beyond the point of being fit for human consumption" know all too well that our hero has been missing in inaction for the last decade.
One person who will not be in any sort of a hurry at all for the Biffo shuffle is our poor Tanaiste, who is still visibly suffering from the aftershocks of the sort of political assassination by Michael O'Leary that left Mossad looking like happy amateurs.
Albert Reynolds may have once famously sung about the joys of putting "your sweet lips a little closer to the phone. And tell your friend there with you he'll have to go".'
But after a fortnight in which the "sweet lips" of O'Leary have left Biffo and the Darling Clementine of Donegal resembling a pair of revolving roast chickens in Super Valu, it is looking increasingly likely that it will be Biffo's "friend" who will "have to go".
Still, if it is any consolation, we suspect that "poor" Martin Cullen's "bad back" means that the Department of Arts, Sports, Culture, Sugar and Spice and all things Nice will be waiting hungrily for the "lovely girl's" gentle caress.