Two aspects to the package stand out. Firstly, it will have no impact whatsoever on gun crime. There is no solace for the victims here, nothing to assuage fears that the gunmen are running amok.

Secondly, some elements of the package will probably have a major impact on minor criminals or mere suspects, individuals who, for the most part, are pathetic specimens of social neglect.

People such as Dean Lyons.

Keep an eye out for a few more like him, or, in a different context, a few more McBrearty families.

The measures heralded as new in relation to detention, bail and longer sentences for repeat offenders are already on the books. Tuesday's stuff just broadens parameters, and is highly unlikely to have any additional effect.

The glaringly obvious problem in gun crime is detection.

Legislation can only work once suspects are before the courts.

Precious few ever are, and in their impotence and desire to find a quick fix, politicians reach for legislation.

Specialised and intensive training of the gardaA- would eat into resources better spent on the middle classes who vote.

Longer-term solutions, such as concentrated education policies in the areas where crime thrives, won't produce results for maybe 10 years, which is two elections away, and of no use to any self-serving politician. So to hell with that for a game of soldiers.

What Tuesday's package really highlighted was the extent to which legislation on crime is now a function of public relations. The measures, while largely redundant, captured the headlines. Tough, tough, tough. The war on crime is being stepped up.

More jail, less bail. Thugs on the run. Give that man a batch of number ones.

The general idea is to propogate on the electorate the mushroom theory. Keep 'em in the dark and feed 'em manure. Make it look like something is being done when in fact nothing is.

This doesn't just apply to blue-collar crime. Last Sunday, the Tribune revealed how the Progressive Democrats had dispatched begging letters to 400 select, wealthy individuals. The letter explained how, under ethics legislation, any donation under Euro5,078 could remain anonymous. It pointed out that a similar donation from other family members could also stay secret. Realistically, a developer with two grown-up kids, could donate Euro20,000 to the party and nobody would know any different, even if said developer required a little rezoning some months down the line.

The author of the letter explaining how easily the spirit of ethics legislation is subverted was none other than our tough-talking minister for justice. This is all great knockabout stuff, making fools of the electorate, because that is what the current consensus politics demands. There is, however, a cost.

Tuesday's exercise included erosion of the right to silence.

In PR terms, this means the tooled-up gang member will no longer get away with picking a spot on the wall and staying silent. In reality, the actual targets will be the pathetic junkies and desperados, who, when told their silence could convict them, will be ready to blather out whatever they think the cops want to hear.

Prepare for the hand-wringing when the miscarriages of justice mount up.

There is also a cost for mickey mouse legislation in the area of political ethics. Rules on donation limits were enacted in response to the corruption revealed by tribunals. The handing over of large sums by one individual or entity to a political party was not going to be tolerated in the future.

Now, we see it was merely the main parties keeping us in the dark and feeding us manure. Limits are there to be subverted, as McDowell's letter implies. The relationship between some political parties and their wealthy backers can continue unabated with a few minor adjustments to keep the mushrooms happy.

And bigger fools are we to put up with the whole thing.