I was a panellist on Questions and Answers last week, when they introduced a telephone poll, conducted while the programme was on air. The question was about whether or not, arising from the Government's humiliation in the O'Flaherty business, Charlie McCreevey should resign. During the ad-break, I predicted the poll would come in at 70 per cent in favour of the Minister's resignation. The outcome was 71 per cent.
This is how predictable the public and the process of its political manipulation have become. Although I had argued that Mr McCreevy should ignore media demands for his resignation, I had no illusions about being in tune with the public mood. I suspected that those who would like to see the Government punished would be more than twice as likely as those who think the whole thing a massive hype to leave down their cups of tea and pick up a telephone.
I guessed that more than two out of three of such people would unconsciously rejoice at the prospect of the further week's drama, gossip and controversy resulting from the Minister's resignation. If you think about it, it becomes surprising that 29 per cent could be bothered to vote in "defence" of Mr McCreevy.
Some people get annoyed because such polls are unscientific, but I have no objection, provided they are seen in the proper light. The poll was an interesting exercise, in much the same way as a show of hands. But an opinion poll can accurately measure public opinion only by following strict probability techniques, which no telephone poll, never mind one in which TV viewers are invited to ring in, can do. Moreover, a baited question, addressed in a whipped-up climate of received opinion, is likely to reflect back the view which has been implanted in the first place.
What was troubling about it - certainly for the Government - was that the poll was bound to be picked up by other media and used in a mischievous way. Bang on cue, several of Tuesday's newspapers ran prominent stories claiming that more than 70 per cent of the electorate wanted Mr McCreevy to resign.
As on several occasions all summer, an issue which had died a natural death was revived by a new "development". What had actually occurred was that roughly seven out of 10 viewers - including those who don't like Fianna Fail, Charlie McCreevy or the judiciary; those who are terminally disgruntled about everything; those who crave further episodes of this saga because they are addicted to its soap opera content; those who like the idea of seeing the impact of their minor contribution show up in an instant poll; and countless other categories of people with varying degrees of knowledge of the Sheedy case or its aftermath - had said "yeah" to a leading question.
When you consider that roughly half the electorate votes against the Government at the best of times, it becomes mildly surprising, particularly in the light of the hype surrounding this saga, that only two-fifths of the remainder were sufficiently exercised to demand that the Minister resign.
This poll therefore allows us to study the process of media manipulation whereby the flickering flame of this controversy was kept alive through the silly season.
He who takes on the Government and wins is the Government. Mr McCreevy and Mr Ahern presumed that we were still playing by the old rules, whereby the Government makes decisions, announces them to the public via the media, whereupon people nod, grumble or shrug, and move on. Realising that a wrong had been done, the Government tried clumsily to put it right, forgetting that in doing so it was questioning the authority of the editors and columnists who had dictated Mr O'Flaherty's punishment.
It was clear from the outset that this was a battle of wills. That is why the Government dug in, and why the media continued to revive the issue.
Time and again through the summer, the affair died a natural death, only to be resurrected, like one of those trick birthday candles you cannot blow out, with front-page headlines relegating air crashes, loyalist feuds and natural disasters to inside pages.
The fig leaf of the media campaign was the invocation of public unease, which was virtually non-existent. While it is certainly the case that the issue touched the deepest wellsprings of rage and resentment among taxi drivers and pub philosophers, most people were no more than mildly annoyed.
Everyone knows that the nomination of cronies to positions involving influence and fat salaries is an integral part of the political process. Are Fine Gael and Labour going to give an undertaking not to nominate any of their cronies to such posts in the future? I doubt it.
As for the Philip Sheedy affair, most people had a strong sense that what happened was that a young man had the misfortune to be involved in a fatal car accident having consumed the equivalent of three pints of beer. Most people are acquainted with families who have lost loved ones in such circumstances, and also with the families of people who were in some way culpable for such deaths. Most find it in their hearts to be compassionate towards both.
Can all of those who have been tormenting Mr McCreevy and Mr O'Flaherty state with their hands on their hearts that they have never sat behind the wheel of a car with that potentially lethal third drink in them?
And which of us, afflicted by a similar catastrophe, would not be grateful for a little of the mercy shown by Judge Kelly and Mr Justice O'Flaherty? There but for the grace of God go we all.
I would submit to a thousand years under Charlie McCreevy rather than 24 hours' rule by the national media.