Imposing penalty points on drivers who throw things out their windows - as suggested by Irish Business Against Litter - may or may not be a good idea, writes Frank McNally.
But it does hint at a possible solution to another aspect of the litter problem: the one involving dogs and public footpaths. Encouraging people to use pooper-scoopers is clearly not working. So what I propose, instead - and with apologies to Ibal - is the introduction of penalty points on dog licences.
Under my plan, a dog urinating against a lamppost would incur one point; full-scale fouling would incur two; and so on. The so-ons could include situations in which the scene of the fouling is a footpath so narrow that a wheelchair user or someone pushing a buggy has to enter the street to avoid it. Four points would be the minimum for such an offence.
When a dog has accumulated 12 points on its licence, it would be disqualified from exercising in public for a prescribed period. Recidivist animals could face imprisonment. But forced retraining for the dogs and their walkers might be an alternative to custodial sentences.
I know there's a big weakness in this plan, in that most dog-owners don't bother buying licences in the first place. That's why I also propose a major overhaul of the licensing system, which, as currently constituted, is a form of regressive taxation.
Where, after all, is the justice in a system requiring the same €12.70 for a Chihuahua as a Rhodesian Ridgeback? The new licence scheme would be based on the motor tax system, where rates increase with engine size. For example, a small, urban runabout dog, like a Jack Russell, might henceforth cost €15 a year. A 1.4 litre family-friendly Labrador could be €25. Sporty models - greyhounds, whippets, beagles owned by the Ward Union Hunt, etc - would be more expensive again.
With souped-up, luxury, and off-road models, however - like the Pyrenean Mountain Dog or the aforementioned Ridgeback - the licence cost might take on a punitive aspect. These animals are very hard on the environment, we know. And the prospect of lower-emission models appearing any time soon are slight.
Under the reformed system, all dogs would be required to display up-to-date licence discs on their collars while being walked. These would be subject to inspection by the army of dog wardens whose salaries would be paid for by the increased revenue. And this being a fantasy world, the wardens would just as zealous in their work as, say, Dublin's car clampers.
One final point. The current dog-fouling by-laws' fondness for talking about "on-the-spot" fines is deeply flawed. It's very hard on Spot, for one thing, who is very unlikely to have the money to pay, anyway. We all know that the real problem is Spot's owner, and the legislation should reflect this.
While we're on the subject, or close to it, I have to congratulate the Vatican for its initiative in issuing a new set of Ten Commandments, aimed at drivers.
The commandments are not quite binding, unlike the original ones, and are in any case very moderately worded. For the Pontifical Council for Pastoral Care, which devised them, it was just an imaginative way of providing guidelines for Christian behaviour on the roads.
Nevertheless, I think most reasonable people will welcome the confirmation implicit in the new fourth commandment - "Cars shall not be an expression of power and domination" - that SUV drivers are going straight to hell.
Elsewhere, the guidelines are, if anything, too circumspect. Perhaps the sixth commandment - which exhorts us to "charitably convince the young and not so young not to drive when not in a fit condition to do so" - lost something in translation, turning it into a moral Red Cow Roundabout. Surely there is a phrase in Italian for "confiscate the car-keys"?
That said, this seems like a worthy attempt by the Catholic Church to update its message for a motorised world. But it's not hard to see how that message could be updated even further. The next logical step now, surely, is the drive-thru confession.
We have the necessary infrastructure already, in the form of the toll-booths currently multiplying on roads. The church could simply rent some of these at weekends or other off-peak times and put up the necessary signs. Then it could install priests who - not unlike the regular occupants - would demand change from drivers.
You can imagine a typical penitent: "Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It is three weeks since my last confession. Since then I have made rude gestures toward cyclists, aggressively tailgated a women who was driving with what I considered exaggerated care, and composed a complex text message on my phone while negotiating a bend." The priest would prescribe penance - say €3.70, including the toll - and the driver could continue on his way, newly resolved to follow the path of righteousness, at least until the next exit. Users of Dublin's Westlink would be exempted from the scheme, having suffered enough already.
Although the Vatican's initiative may be especially aimed at Italy, where the souls of drivers and the bodies of pedestrians are about equally at risk, the new commandments are timely in Ireland too.
Traffic conditions here mean that, increasingly, the car is an occasion of sin. God knows, it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a driver to get out of Dublin on a Friday (Lamentations 5:23). And bad as it is now, wait till the Ikea store opens. Whence, verily, I say unto you: There will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.