Remember those happyish days in 2007, when we imagined the new government might save Tara, demilitarise Shannon, and prevent a unscrupulous oil multinational from trampling all over Mayo? How meekly we placed the seeds of hope in their stubby green fingers. Instead the Greens will go down in history as the party that gave us 1.4 million numbered households lit by CFL bulbs.

Communications minister Eamon Ryan claims the new postcode system, to be introduced from 2011, will cost €10m-€15m. It's cost about half a million already. Expect in a few years to discover it actually cost €30m, because everyone multiplies by two when it's a state tender, and then add on the price of whatever suicidal contract the government enters into to 'maintain' the system, so it can be updated every time a new house goes up (if a new house ever goes up again).

Steve Fitzpatrick of the Communication Workers' Union estimates the maintenance will cost €3m but oh, you know, this is the Fianna Fáil coalition we're talking about. Ryan said the expenditure would be justified by "returns across the economy", though it's hard to see who will benefit apart from worthless courier companies and people who want to send you junk mail. Someone from the emergency services was hauled out to say postcodes will make it easier for them to find your house. But from now on, when 999 asks you for directions, you can always say, "You'll recognise my house: it's the one that's ON FIRE."

The minister doesn't have much choice in this, mind. The EU insists we "liberalise" the postal service, being of the view that no citizen is safe until they're entirely at the mercy of private-sector cowboys, and that Ireland will not be a properly functioning economy until our perfectly effective semi-state postal company has been turned into another Eircom.

However, I suspect postcodes also suit the Greens' cosmopolitan sensibilities. Once we're no longer the only EU country without postcodes, we might stop being "the joke of Europe". Then if we could just vote 'Yes' to Lisbon, eat our dinner in the evenings, live in cottage complexes instead of roadside bungalows, frequent cafes instead of pubs, drink pinot noir instead of porter, stop getting drunk altogether, actually, and support something other than hurling... cricket maybe. We might also put a stop to cute Fianna Fáil hoors topping the poll, but really that is not the regrettable national failing it once was, now that Italy has demonstrated that you can be corrupt and sophisticated at the same time.

Announcing the plan, Ryan drew attention to how "embarrassing" it is when online ordering services ask you for a postcode.

I see nothing remotely embarrassing in it. It's admittedly a little annoying, and the first few times you're asked for your postcode, you're inclined to shout, "Back off, imperialist swine" at the screen. But before long you start to enjoy it. Type in AR5E or F4RT or BUGG3R. Get the children involved, if you've lost your own flair for the puerile; it's a game for the whole family. Failing that, you can always type in nothing at all and have your parcel delivered to that wacky subcommunity known as 'Co Clare Default'. An Post points out that it already has what it regards as a reliable method of sorting post, and this is not just a euphemism for 'the address what's written on the envelope like'. I think you'll agree that Geodirectory, the national address database established as a joint effort between An Post and the ordnance survey, has been more than equal to the task of landing bills safely on your doormat every day.

There's also that failsafe system known as local knowledge. The postman arrives in the countryside in his van every single morning. He knows exactly where you are, and you know his name and the name of his black-and-white cat. Then, once a week or so, you get a phonecall from one of the countless private logistics companies "delivering delivery solutions". They can't possibly deliver that far out and can you collect your package 20 miles away? Sometimes you agree, other times you fly off the handle, make 15 phonecalls berating anyone who ever uses couriers, and insist. And sometimes, if enough people have flown off the handle that day, three very cranky couriers drive into the village one after the other. How about that for a carbon footprint left by the Greens?

O'Leary or Ganley? Vote none of the above

What a brilliant contribution Primetime has made to the anti-Lisbon campaign. All you had to do, it turns out, was team Declan Ganley up for 10 minutes with someone who's an even bigger gobshite – Michael O'Leary. In Thursday's debate, Ganley was positively Han Solo – rehabilitated mercenary – to O'Leary's Jabba the Hutt. Ganley had taken the precaution of marshalling one or two arguments; O'Leary found himself for once in a predicament where pithy slogans wouldn't cut it. He kept reminding Ganley that he hadn't been elected – a bit rich, considering both are no more than businessmen with enough money to subvert the democratic process, such as it is. And Miriam O'Callaghan's 'Don't bully me I've got a frock on' style of chairing a debate did not help at all. I foresee a great many people now not wanting to be associated with either side. Vote none of the above.

etynan@tribune.ie

Diarmuid Doyle is on leave