The Sunday Tribune's freedom of information request about John O'Donoghue's expenses as arts minister was, it has to be said, the gift that kept on giving. Over four weeks in July and August, details of O'Donoghue's excesses in just two of his five years in the job provided this newspaper with some of its most widely read and followed-up stories of the year. They revealed somebody with an enormous sense of entitlement, for whom a pampered existence was part of the job of being in government. The idea of public service, the notion that serving in cabinet is a privilege, a solemn responsibility awarded by a sovereign people, came second to O'Donoghue's self-love and his need to be indulged.

Seen in that context, O'Donoghue's refusal to explain himself, to try to justify his €1,400-a-day chauffeured cars or his six-day odyssey on the government jet, is no surprise. His freeloading as minister was an act of contempt towards the people who elected him and whom he was supposed to be serving on his various jaunts abroad. Clearly, he was serving himself first, without a thought for the little people he'd left behind at home. What they didn't know couldn't hurt them.

But they know now, thanks to Ken Foxe's freedom of information request, and they're not best pleased, if letters and emails to this paper and comments left on our website are anything to go by. They'd like an explanation from O'Donoghue, or some acknowledgement that he might have gone a bit far spending their money. They've lived in Ireland long enough to know that an apology is unlikely, and that a resignation is out of the question, but some words of contrition from O'Donoghue, or some sense of disappointment from his party colleagues, might lance some of the boil. But so far, there has been nothing.

The story of O'Donoghue's expenses highlights more than any other in this recession the huge canyon that exists between the public perception of politicians, of all parties, and politicians' perceptions of themselves. Since the story broke on 26 July, for example, not a single Fianna Fáil politician has uttered a word of censure or criticism of O'Donoghue. Indeed, those few who have commented have generally been sympathetic. First out was the Minister for Europe Dick Roche who, using the "good doggy" tone with which he condescends to almost everybody, said he "felt sorry" for the Ceann Comhairle – "because John is actually a very modest man and he is in a terrible dilemma, because there is a difficulty if the Ceann Comhairle gets himself embroiled in this sort of debate".

Then, during the week, former minister Mary O'Rourke gave O'Donoghue her support. "If I was him," she told Eamon Keane on Newstalk, "I would say that I performed my duties, which he did in a very good way."

Even if we accept O'Rourke's claim that O'Donoghue was a good minister, the idea that this justified his extraordinary expenses claims is patently ludicrous. A system in which your flexibility to screw the taxpayer is dependent on how well you do your job is unworkable, although there will be many who suspect that is how ministers justify their excesses to themselves; Mary O'Rourke's comments will have confirmed them in that view.

Much worse than Fianna Fáil's inability to criticise the Ceann Comhairle is the failure of any opposition politician – with the honourable exception of Sinn Féin's Aongus ó Snodaigh – to do so. Fine Gael's Leo Varadkar was reasonably sharp early in the controversy, but since then he has been as silent as the rest of his party colleagues, including his leader, who were invited on several occasions by the Sunday Tribune to express an opinion on O'Donoghue's expenses but refused to take the opportunity. Likewise with the Labour Party, which has been silent on this issue.

It seems "respect for the office" of the Ceann Comhairle precludes criticism of its office holder, no matter how outrageous his behaviour. It's another example of how, when the pressure is on, the political class will circle the wagons, batten down the hatches, and look out for its own interests.

Currently, its own interests include a Yes vote in the Lisbon referendum and, currently, it looks like it will get what it wants. But a campaign led by politicians who have lost the respect of the people, and who have become disconnected from the concerns of the electorate, is a campaign built on shaky foundations. Not even his sternest critics will blame John O'Donoghue if Lisbon is lost. If it is, however, it might be worth having a closer look at the Bull's role in contaminating the political process.

Mixed signals: RTé snubs young radio listeners

RTÉ's head of radio, Clare Duignan, says she feels comfortable refashioning 2FM as a station for the middle-aged because the national broadcaster is catering for young people through its digital channels like 2XM, and Chill FM. She has to be kidding. Digital radio in Ireland is a joke, available in only a few counties. In Navan, where I live, there's not a hint of a digital signal, which makes the DAB radio I bought at Christmas somewhat redundant. Neither, I'm told, is there any prospect of such a signal coming my way anytime soon.

I'm not young anymore, but if I was, I would respond to RTÉ's abandonment of me by doing what many in their teens and early 20s have been doing anyway – tuning into Spin or Phantom.

ddoyle@tribune.ie