Our TD space cadets

Emissions: Did you know that all current and former TDs and senators get a parking space for life in the middle of Dublin, on top of their hefty pensions and the unswerving adulation of millions?

No matter what their political persuasion, any man or woman who has ever sat in either of the hallowed chambers of Dáil Éireann is entitled to this perk. Be they career politicians with 40 years of service or single-term rookie TDs who were booted out in the next election, it matters not. By my rough calculations, there's hundreds of them.

And it's not just when they're popping up to the Big Smoke for the big Christmas shop in Clery's either. It's all year. It's almost worth buying votes for that privilege alone. (Not that any of Ireland's fine public servants would countenance such a thing, of course.)

I wouldn't dare be so mischievous as to suggest our great leaders should leave their cars at home for once in the name of traffic decongestion. Nor would I ever be so cheeky that I'd holler for them to be leading by example through their use of the world-class public transport system they have helped to create with their years of unfailing dedication and hard work. Oh no.

I don't know how many of you lovely people have walked along the Dáil side of Merrion Square recently, admiring its glorious buildings with their imposing railings and towering gates. It's enough to make you proud of our grand little country. Until you remember we didn't build any of it.

Except, that is, for one bit. Where once was parked nothing but the behinds of pigeons, there now rests one of the largest outdoor car parks in the city centre. Derisively named the "Dáil Lawn", it's got more Mercs per square foot than Malahide. How tragic it is that these fine machines are forced to scrabble for space with the bashed-up crocks of the few impoverished hacks graciously permitted to enter the precious acre.

It's been like that for almost five years, the neatly-trimmed turf of the original lawn being tarmacked over during the redevelopment of Leinster House. It wasn't always intended to be thus - the Government schemed to build an underground bunker for their chariots at a cost of €€30 million to the rest of us. Wisely, this proposal was dropped over (justified) fears of a public revolution.

But now they're promising to return it to its former glory within 18 months. I'm not one to hold great faith in the promises of this Government, but there might be something in it this time.

Everyone knew some devious rationale lay behind Charlie McCreevy's decentralisation announcement in last December's Budget, but they couldn't quite put their finger on it. "Fishing for rural votes?" they asked. Too obvious. "Saving cash?" asked another commentator. Again, not devious enough. The truth? It's car parking.

Let me explain: when Charlie explained his plans to relay the lawn at a Fianna Fáil parliamentary meeting last November, he didn't get the reaction he expected. "Where the hell are we going to park then?" they whelped.

"Jaysus, lads, I never thought of that," he replied, colour draining from his cheeks. He'd thought it was a great idea, the bit of grass would remind him of home and it would be grand for the auld bit of PR. "Give me a few days, I'll think about it."

Lo and behold, come Budget Day, he had the answer. 10,000 civil servants are being shipped off down the country, he announced to the Dáil, as the Fianna Fáil benches sniggered and jangled their car keys in their pockets in unison.

For your information, there's around 12,000 parking spaces in Dublin. Of which 7,300 are used by public servants. It doesn't take a genius to work out the maths.

Which is lucky for the chauffeurless minions of the Fianna Fáil parliamentary party, or they'd all have been on the bus.