It's been a quiet month for motoring news. So quiet, indeed, that I found myself at a press conference with aul' Mr Brennan last week, writes Kilian Doyle
Remember him? Nice lad. Used to be transport minister 'til he got shuffled off to the Ministry For Handing Out Free Cash.
The occasion was the announcement of the lifting of restrictions on the use of free travel passes. From next month, the 600,000 holders of such passes, the vast majority of them pensioners, will be allowed on city buses any damn well time they please.
In a corridor deep in the belly of Government Buildings, Brennan was mobbed by radio journalists. An eager if naive breed, the radio hack. From what I can gather, they are invariably fresh-faced youngsters straight out of media college who spend their spare time perfecting their Dort accents. Far removed indeed from the angry, scowling, tooth-stained old dogs of the print medium.
"You'll be remembered like Charlie Haughey for this!" said one particularly scatty radio type, trying to butter Brennan's bread. She was very young, bless her. The poor man winced. The print hacks at the back winced with him. "Ah, oh, err, thanks," said he, face purpling with embarrassment. What a compliment.
He deserved a better one. So here it is. You're a top man, Mr Brennan, for ending the 40-year ban. I've always seen it as a form of temporal apartheid. To ban the aged and infirm from availing of free travel during rush hour says their lives aren't as valid, that they haven't the right to need to be somewhere at the same time as the rest of the population. It says they are a burden, just getting in the way. It's obnoxious and good riddance to it.
Seamus said free travel helps older people to socialise, lead independent lives and live at home for as long as possible. He also said the Government wanted more older people to keeping working past retirement age, and being allowed use the bus will help. All very commendable, you'll all agree. Well, maybe not all of you.
If you'll allow me, I'll play devil's advocate for a second.
Some people might argue that already crammed buses will now be filled with 430,000 mad aul' ones bashing shins with their rickety faux-tartan shopping trolleys and stinking the bus up with the smell of stale cat food. Just because they can.
Those same people might complain that if the pensioners Brennan wants to continue working are using the bus to earn wages, they should be paying fares like the rest of the commuting population. Those people may be right. I don't care, everyone's equal now, they can fight it out.
I'll let you into a little secret. A fiendish blackmail opportunity occurred to me as I sat there in the plush environs of Dáil Éireann.
I considered taking Mr Brennan aside and quietly telling him he needn't bother with a free bus pass for me, that I am expecting from him no less than a written contract stating that I'd be spending my dotage being carried aloft on a mahogany recliner by six ample-breasted towering Amazonians at the Government's expense.
I was going to tell him I'd cottoned onto his masterful stroke and that unless I got my Amazonian assurances, I'd expose it to the nation, there and then. But I decided against it. It would be selfish of me to keep it to myself, so I share with you, my loyal readers, the stroke of Seamus. Maybe you can use it yourself to strong-arm him, next time you see him on the bus.
For the small price of the few million euro a year of our money that extending the free travel scheme will cost, he's bought tens of thousands of grey votes for Fianna Fáil in the next election.
A smart operator is our Seamus. Maybe he'll be remembered like Charlie after all. In the nicest possible sense, of course.