So they're at it again. Even as thousands of people stood marooned, busless, trainless and bedless, scores of miles from their homes, the government was putting the finishing touches to its plans to reform our licensing laws; which, to judge from past experience, means asking the publicans if there's anything more it can do for them. There can hardly be an issue which is more revealing of the qualities of our political masters. We have probably the stupidest drink laws in Europe. We used to make fun of British drink laws, but we can't now, because even they, despite their stark low-church traditions and governess habits, have managed to introduce common sense into their alcohol legislation, and are soon to introduce an even larger dollop of common sense with complete deregulation of pub drinking time.
No public demand
Meanwhile, the Oireachtas joint committee on drink has laboured mightily, and did not produce a mouse so much as a mouse-fart, a tiny issuing of inconsequential gases amid a vast and pullulating marshland of legislative methane. One of the findings of this dim gathering was that there was no public demand for a removal of the total ban on the sale of alcohol on Good Friday. This was, of course, after it had canvassed opinions among the permanent residents of Sceilig Micheal, not one of whom could be found in favour of changing the drink laws. Nor for an abolition of the stocks. Nor for the ending of the Penal Laws. Nor for the burning of witches at the stake.
The committee came up with other proposals, too numerously stupid to waste our brain cells on here. But a morsel will give you a good idea of the banquet of witlessness which the Oireachtas authors laid before the unfortunates reading their report. On the issue of being able to buy drink on a Sunday afternoon, it opined: "Opposition [within the committee, to a proposal to allow drink to be bought on Sunday afternoon] was founded on the belief that while there is no public demand for the availability of liquor during the hours in question. . . the very possibility of its availability would create an opportunity for liquor consumption at times far outside the accepted norm." So according to these people, it is "outside the accepted norm" to drink wine with a Sunday lunch at three in the afternoon? Dear God, that I may not fall into their company for a Sabbath luncheon, or any other time either, come to that. But of course, it is irrelevant what is the accepted norm. It is not the job of our law-makers to enforce the "accepted norm" by means of the criminal law; but that is what the Oireachtas Committee actually proposed.
Now, after years of parliamentary toil, we are going to be allowed new pub licensing hours. Pubs may serve drinks until 11.30 p.m., with half-an-hour's drinking-up time, for four days a week, and for three, Thursday to Saturday nights, may stay open until 12.30, with half-an-hour's drinkingup time. Thus The Minister Spake, And The Earthe It Did Tremble, And The Voide Opened, and The Planettes moved In Their Orbittes.
Sleepless publicans
And that, pretty much, is it. For tomfoolery like this did John O'Donoghue apparently enter political life: to prevent, by dint of law, no doubt enforced by means of a vigorous deployment of the constabulary, the citizens of this Republic from drinking in pubs at two in the morning. Never mind that there is not a capital city or provincial town in the mainland of Europe - or even, God bless the mark, in Britain - where such cretinism is elevated into law; it is what we are about to have as law in this country.
Why? Because it largely conforms with what publicans want. If there's one thing that will keep a licensed vintner awake in his bed and fretting at three in the morning, it is the fear that a rival publican nearby is making money by selling drink. That is part of the gombeen culture which drives publicans, and which is expressed each night in their prayers: "Dear God, make me rich, but most of all, don't let Mickie Joe Murphy down the road earn a single penny while I sleep."
In their world, the purpose of the State is to ensure they get a night's sleep untroubled by dreams of the competition pulling pints and making hay. And as usual, the State has obliged, against the best interests of the Irish people - who are used to that, of course, and once again - as usual, yawn - will do or say nothing to defend their best interests.
Two queues
Obligingly, we shuffle through two queues in supermarkets, for wine and beer in one and for groceries in the other, because that is a piece of legislation foisted on us by the publicans, who were protecting their off-licence sales. Obligingly, we hear that a restaurant can't sell us a gin-and-tonic before dinner because the vintners' lobby its has made it too expensive and too complex for it to get the requisite licence. Obligingly, we accept that to sell a drink at 11.29 p.m. on a Monday is lawful, but at 11.31 is a criminal offence. Obligingly, we are thrilled that we will by law actually be allowed to drink in a pub until 12.30 a.m. over the New Year. And obligingly, we never tell the Minister where he should put his ludicrous, illibertarian laws.
What a shame.