EMISSIONS/Kilian Doyle: It's been a few weeks since I've had a good old rant. Despite exhortations from my good editor and others to quite literally let rip, I'm afraid I've been a bit sanguine of late. But all that is to change. Feeling exceptionally vituperative today, so I am. So here goes.
Penalty points, eh? What a load of pants. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I'm completely against this (valiant) effort to stem the steady stream of death that trickles down our streets. It's just that doesn't go for the jugular, as it should.
Where's the penalty for nattering away on your mobile while you speed past primary schools, negotiating parked cars and traffic islands one-handed? Or driving at 60 mph in the rain six inches from the car in front of you? Or cutting left in front of cyclists and flattening them? Or having Man Utd stickers on your car?
All right, so that last one is just me being petulant. My apologies for being so flippant. The stark reality is that people are still going to get killed by speedfreaks and other dangerous drivers, points or no points. It boils down to how long the hundreds of deaths and thousands of serious injuries annually will remain an acceptable tariff for the freedoms of Irish motorists.
I was amazed at the reaction of some people, journalists included, to the proposals. Why should I go slowly when I'm such a superb driver and in total control and damn-nigh invincible? asked one feller. It's unworkable, you'll never stop me speeding, another declared, as if the deaths of seven or eight people a week was a price he was quite happy to pay for the privilege. Accidents happen to other people, eh Fangio, and it'll never be you, will it?
Driving is "fun", one chap argued. Perhaps it is, but could you point out to me where the fun is in carrying the limp body of a child into the back of an ambulance is? Or in facing five years in prison for skidding into a car and killing its occupants? "Sorry I was going so fast, Your Honour. I have a chronic timekeeping problem and I was in a bit of a hurry," our hero says. "Anyway, I was having fun."
"Why didn't you say so?" asks the judge. "We could have avoided all this messing. Put a tenner to the florists for a few lilies for the three graves and we'll say no more about it." Yeah. Right. Hilarious.
What is it in the national psyche that glorifies law-breaking? Why is someone who gets busted for travelling at double the speed limit looked upon as a victim of over-eager gardaí? Why do people feel they have a divine right to break the law just because they have the means to do so?
I have no pity for those who shell out tens of thousands of euros on cars that can hit 160 mph and then moan because the speed limit is 70mph. It's like buying an assault rifle and complaining that you're not allowed shoot people with it.
My advice is this: Buy a car that can do 70mph and spend the difference on therapy.
And my advice to the Government? Act decisively to regulate speed limits once and for all, fix all the potty conflicting road signs around the country, then impose draconian anti-speeding laws.
Caught doing 90mph? Lose your licence for six months. Caught again? Go to jail. If you don't like it, go live in Germany. Let me know what you decide. I'll be on my donkey-cart, cruising at 12 miles an hour, and only too happy to bring you to the airport.