In preparation for their assault on the electorate, Fine Gael has issued a guide for its members who intend treading the canvass. The canvassing "Do's" (grammar lads, that apostrophe is all over the shop) are only outdone in silliness by the "Canvassing Don'ts". Here is a Do to beat all Dos: "Stand back from the door & smile. Appear interested".

Have you ever been exposed to a Fine Gael smile at five yards? More to the point, what facial expressions are required to "appear interested?" In this day and age, when political participation is at an all time low, FG HQ deems it necessary to tell people who are traipsing from door to door, for the love of the party, to "appear interested". What class of individual are they accustomed to having on the canvass? The deranged and the lonely?

Moving onto the "Canvassing Don'ts" gives some insight to the party who would be king. "Don't pick times when people are most likely not to be at home, or receptive." Hey Sherlock, good call.

The party's loose grip on the reality of power is exposed on other "Don'ts": "Don't make a promise that can not be fulfilled". This instruction goes against the prevailing fashion of auction politics, of which Fine Gael itself is one of the finer exponents. Promises are where it's at. Thinking up new and innovative promises that the opposition can't easily ridicule is what the election is about. The objective is to make as many promises that you can't fulfil, but to do it with a straight face, and one of those five-yard smiles.

Here's a "Don't" that will be impossible to obey: "Don't waffle".

And finally, there is a "Don't" which should be a "Do" if the party is to avoid landing in electoral do-do. "Don't go drinking beforehand".

While Fine Gael agonises about how to soberly approach voters, the government gets on with the real business of exercising power.

Last week, new ethics legislation was published. The purpose of this stuff is to illustrate for politicians the difference between right and wrong.

This legislation has its genesis in the little contretemps last autumn over Bertie Ahern receiving loans from friends and gifts from mysterious strangers and saving 50 grand in cash at home while he was minister for finance.

Michael McDowell was put out by the tardiness of the whole affair and only agreed to continue in his beloved job on condition that new legislation be written to stop a repeat, or something silly like that. As a public relations move, it was one step above pathetic, but at least it allowed Mac whisper to Bertie "we survived that".

The soldiers of destiny didn't get to where there are by letting opportunities for advancement to pass. Thrown in with the legislation to keep them honest is a little caveat raising the threshold for declarable donations. Now it will be possible for a politician to receive Euro2,000 on the quiet, where previously the threshold was Euro650.

Oddly enough, this will suit McDowell down to the ground, as he recently dispatched a begging letter to wealthy individuals explaining how they could subvert existing legislation to give his party more and more money.

It's also good news for donors, who are shy about their generosity to politicians, and for the recipients in general, because they believe that airing stuff about money is bad manners. (Why do the altruistic souls who donate in the name of democracy fail to leave money to political parties in their last will and testament? Because they want their reward in this life, not the next. ) The upshot is that legislation designed to keep politics honest is being used as cover to make it easier to snaffle money from the private sector in pursuit of the public interest. Only a shower too long in power would attempt - and succeed - in pulling that one.