The Minister for Justice has picked a good time to consider the role of pre-nuptial agreements in Irish law, with two high-profile foreign cases setting the parameters for any debate, writes Frank McNally
First the US billionaire Ron Perelman divorced actress Ellen Barkin, just before a time-clause in their agreement would have turned her very lucrative settlement into an even more lucrative settlement. That probably looked a bit crass to most people.
But now the Paul McCartney-Heather Mills split is unfolding like a plane crash, only four years after they were so deeply in love that they couldn't extricate themselves long enough to consider a pre-nup. And suddenly the perspective has changed. The Perelman-Barkin approach to romance now looks classy by comparison. You can only admire the maturity with which he was able to foresee the possibility that things might go wrong; and the even greater maturity with which she was able to wipe him off her shoes and auction the jewellery.
Considering the horror of the McCartney-Mills situation, couples of unequal wealth may henceforth want to go further than Perelman and adopt soccer-style contracts, with performance clauses, built-in bonuses, and a January "transfer window" (during which either party can survey the alternatives available, without penalty).
Perhaps if an agreed minimum period of marital bliss is not reached, the wealthier party could go free - "on a Bosman", as they say on football. On the other hand, if the poor half were to spend, say, 20 years with the same spouse, he or she would qualify for a money-spinning testimonial.
As for the McCartney-Mills situation, nobody outside their immediate circle can have any idea where the balance of right lies. Like most people, however, I can't help feeling sorrier for the former Beatle. No doubt he has done some unforgivable things: there was his Wings career, for one. But it is hard to believe that he warrants the public relations jihad his estranged wife has launched against him.
It is, after all, a cruel and unusual punishment that their break-up should have happened in this of all years, as if to make a mockery of one of his most popular songs, When I'm 64.
McCartney turned 64 in June; and, in a way, that was punishment enough. When he wrote the song, he had, like many young people, an exaggerated concept, if any, of what such a vast age would entail. Of course, 64 is the new 54 now. But even allowing that he couldn't have foreseen the improvements in diet and healthcare that the intervening years would bring, he rather overstated the fogeyness that was likely to overtake him in his mid-60s.
It must have been a hell of a surprise to reach the age and find that, as well as his grandchildren, "Vera, Chuck, and Dave", he was bouncing a three-year-old daughter on his arthritic knee. Then came the break-up and his wife's PR onslaught - what the couple's mutual friend Piers Morgan calls "Operation Make-Me-A-Martyr" - which could almost have been designed as a rebuttal of the song. Here are some examples.
Song line: "Will you still be sending me a Valentine?/ Birthday greetings, bottle of wine?" Sad fact: Mills alleges that, midway between Valentine's Day and his birthday this year, Sir Paul threw the contents of "a bottle of red wine" over her.
Song line: "If I'd been out till quarter to three/ Would you lock the door?" Sad fact: After their split, Mills posed for newspaper photographs while locked out of the family house.
Song line: "We can rent a cottage in the isle of Wight/ If it's not too dear." Sad fact: Mills has alleged that McCartney is mean with money.
Song line: "Will you still need me/ Will you still feed me?" Sad fact: Mills also alleges that he insisted she make dinner for him every night, even "while she was on crutches, could barely move, and was in agony".
Perhaps the most heart-breaking line in the song, at least from the viewpoint of McCartney's lawyers, is the one that goes: "Give me your answer/ Fill in a form/ Mine forever more". Ms Mills is filling in forms now, all right. But how they must wish she had been presented with one back in 2002.
The whole sorry saga will force some dramatic revisionism for Fab Four historians. Yoko Ono looks set to be replaced, at last, as the group's most controversial wife. And it now appears that Ringo will be the only member of the band allowed to grow old gracefully. The drummer, of all people! What were the chances of that? But the revisionism must also extend to those naive Beatle lyrics, some of which continue to exert undue influence on impressionable young romantics. Take the following song, whose closing chorus I quote in full: "All you need is love. All you need is love. All you need is love. Love. Love is all you need. All you need is love (all together now!). All you need is love (every-bod-y!). All you need is love. Love. Love is all you need."
It may be true that this is all you need, young romantics. But don't underestimate the importance of a good solicitor.