Some years ago I once suggested we could replace TDs with robots pre-loaded with a selection of standard responses to Irish political questions and save ourselves a fortune.

From "I didn't interrupt you" to "I'm calling for a comprehensive review of the issue" to "It's well known that (insert county name here) is the most neglected county in Ireland", we could probably cover a good 80pc of political discourse.

All with the added benefit of them not trying to sue if they fell off a swing.

Josepha Madigan's recent perceived lack of enthusiasm for a methadone clinic in her constituency would be no problem for the PolBot 3000™. It would roll out the standard response used by all TDs in such questions, that while it agreed with the principle of the policy in question, the proposed location isn't (that great catch-all word) "appropriate".

The tone of the letter from Minister Madigan's constituency office is no more different than, say, a senator choking back tears in the Seanad chamber about the suffering of the homeless, then hotfooting it to their would-be Dáil constituency to block any major housing development because the locals don't fancy it.

Politicians will go where the voters are, and you can't blame them.

It's one of the great weaknesses of a geographically based electoral system, where local interest nearly always trumps national. It's bad government, but good democracy.

If we had any sense we'd follow the suggestion of Oxford physicist Simon Tuohy, who once suggested we scrap geographical constituencies and replace them with constituencies based on what month one is born in. Every TD would have voters in every corner of Ireland and so would be obsessed with ensuring all public services are delivered well everywhere, as opposed to the current, "My parish first and feck the rest of ye!"

Even if we had the sense to implement such a radical change, we'd still be left with the reality that we need to put halting sites, methadone clinics, asylum seekers, waste recycling centres, incinerators and maybe, one day, Ireland's first nuclear power plant somewhere.

Indeed, there's part of me that would love to see a nuclear plant proposed merely for the hysteria it would cause, with screams of three-eyed fish and "will somebody please think of the children!"

Funny thing about nuclear power: it brings out the renewable energy crowd in droves, yet try to get a wind farm built in an actual location and the same "Solar Power Now!" crowd leg it with all the gusto of the chairman of a Gary Glitter fan club. Are we failing to approach the issue of unpopular infrastructure with a bit of imagination?

People often forget one of the key reasons locals oppose unpopular infrastructure is because, regardless of their own opinion, local property owners have to consider what future buyers might think.

Someone may not care they are living beside a halting side, or might even have a positive experience. But they also know there is a high probability anyone looking to buy their home - their primary family asset of value in most cases - will care if there is a halting site or methadone clinic nearby and it will affect the price if they make an offer at all.

Address that issue, however, and the variable changes. Perhaps if we made living in an area with unpopular infrastructure actually profitable you might see a change of attitude.

If every home located within 'x' metres of a methadone clinic was given an income tax credit of, say, up to €100,000 per annum then suddenly it becomes beneficial to have one near you. It adds value to your home even if your income isn't anywhere near the threshold because it'll be available to whomever you sell your home to.

Sure, it won't solve every problem, and you'd probably have to have some sort of local plebiscite to permit the tax credit zone be set in the first place, but it would certainly shake things up.

It would be a basic social contract: OK, we're asking your area to carry the burden for society as a whole so here's a few quid for your trouble.

Yes, there'd be the usual crowd who would be outraged these things should even be described as a sort of community burden, but they're always outraged about one thing or another anyway and nearly always don't live near them.

They'll call it a disgraceful act of bribery, and they'd be right.

It would be bribery, but it would also be transparent and for once it would be the little guy getting the bulging brown envelope shoved into the raincoat pocket.

Indeed, it's not impossible that after a few years of having methadone clinics or halting sites near one's home, a threat by the health board or the county council to close it and thus deprive the area of its special tax status could trigger the alternative response.

One could easily see, in the near future, a crowd of deeply compassionate south Dublin residents, a "Save Our Halting Site!" placard in their hands, pledging to to fight tooth and nail to protect the rights of the Travellers to their little piece of Dublin Rathdown.

Indeed, all across the country the cry would go up: Why is south Dublin getting all the methadone clinics and recycling centres and refugee hostels? As usual, them up in Dublin are getting everything!

Just a thought.

Irish Independent