Gardening, like politics, is about the future. You are hedging your bets. Something always goes wrong.

There are casualties. There are pleasant surprises. And there are greenfly. That's what's so interesting about our Taoiseach's fondness for hanging baskets. Hanging baskets are the closest you can come to gardening with a guarantee. Hanging baskets are about results. They are about splash; hanging baskets are not allowed a dormant period.

They could also be called the Tour de France of gardening, because in the hanging basket business doping is a way of life. One hesitates to accuse our Leader of Miracle-Gro abuse, or of popping phostrogen to get him through August, but facts have to be faced. He couldn't get by without it. In hanging baskets, the drugs do work, and in fairness you need them.

Hanging baskets are the most controlled and maintenance intense form of gardening there is . . . the polar opposite of cactus. For God's sake, you can hardly go on holidays if you have hanging baskets; they shrivel up and die before you've hit the Naas Road.

But then the Taoiseach has Staff. Which of us would like to be the person to tell the Taoiseach that the watering had been forgotten, that his sphagnum moss was as dry as an economist and that all his carefully nurtured petunias were in the bin? Not me. But I wouldn't like to be one of his market research people either. If you went in to Bertie with a plan for next year's hanging baskets he'd throw you out the door.

The thing about hanging baskets is that they can be assembled pretty much to order, on the spot.

And so it is with political policies. No one here bothers to grow political ideas from seed; they are bought in from abroad as required and thrown together at the last minute, to a deadline. So there's no point in polling the voters 12 months before an election; we don't know what the weather will be like, or what goodies will be put in front of us.

There are lots of predictions about the results of the next election but really, who gives a curse about predictions, outside Ireland's burgeoning polling community? Both the politicians and the public know that that sleeping giant, the Fianna Fail machine, will wake from its slumber and/or come back from its holidays to crush all in its path. But that's enough about PJ Mara. He hasn't even set his alarm clock yet.

Perhaps, around next March, the Taoiseach might consider cosmic ordering. If he watches Richard & Judy . . . and he might do, because he is clever and Tony Blair has been on it . . . then he will have heard of cosmic ordering.

The astrologer Jonathan Cainer has written a book on the subject, which is called, rather enchantingly, Cosmic Ordering: How To Make Your Dreams Come True. Apparently it worked for Noel Edmonds. Noel revived his television career, bought a mansion and acquired a new girlfriend, which you must admit is impressive.

Jonathan Cainer jokingly calls cosmic ordering "astral room service". You just ask the universe for what you want.

How great is that? Older readers might remember this technique under its old title . . . petitionary prayer. It's just that now you're asking the universe for whatever it is you want: a new television programme, an overall majority, anything is possible with the universe.

All you have to do is write down a list of what you want. But don't put funny squiggles on your hand, as Noel Edmonds did, otherwise researchers at Richard & Judywill spend long afternoons blowing up stills from a video, and zooming in on you in uncomfortable close-up.

Your list of requirements can be assembled pretty much at the last minute, and you won't need any policies at all. Just remember that health service is two words.