Does anyone, ever, ask questions when spending taxpayers’ cash?

Questions. My husband once sang a song called that. It was about how, when he was a child inquiring about what Santy might be bringing for Christmas, his mother used to say “Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies”.

But down here on the frontline, it’s not Christmas all year round and Santa isn’t going to be solving all our problems anytime soon. We need to be asking more questions.

Enough of this ‘don’t ask/don’t tell’ rubbish that I personally believe lies at the root of virtually every government cock-up that has ever happened in this country.

It’s only now and again that the workhorses hear about these cock-ups: by workhorses, I mean those people in this State who actually earn their living, support the Exchequer, and meet the costs of their mortgages, childcare, clothing and food; the ones who actually pay for everything they buy with money they’ve earned themselves.

It’s rare enough that they get a glimpse of what life’s really is like for the other half; for example, the ones who work in Kildare Street.

Only a glimpse, of course, and it’s usually only because something was (possibly inadvertently, maybe not) let slip.

Then the workhorses get agitated. They neigh and stamp their hooves and all the politicians come racing out of their traps to agree about how dreadful it all is.

Like the shed/shelter/structure/canopy for the 18 bikes at Leinster House – whatever you’d call it, this thing cost what it would to build a whole house.

A whopping €336,000, or about €18,000 per bike, and, as architect and Green Party TD Neasa Hourigan pointed out, it doesn’t even qualify as a shed. It’s actually, she commented, little more than an L-shaped canopy which may not even be capable of keeping the bikes dry.

And, sure enough, Larkin Engineering, a Galway firm that makes street furniture, declared it could have built that shelter/canopy/structure for around €20,000. Or a cheaper one, for €7,000.

Even the Minister for Finance Jack Chambers dropped his official voice in, and admitted the Leinster House Bike Catastrophe was a complete waste of money.

But hang on. Did anybody ever ask questions about it before the story crashed onto the front pages of our newspapers?

Did anybody in government, the civil service or, indeed, the Office of Public Works itself ever ask about why a bike canopy should cost the same price to build as a four-bedroom family home?

Did any of the officials and politicians who negotiated/nodded through/signed off on that particular deal ever bother to price around (‘Get a few quotes, lads’)?

Did anyone even question the cost of the thing, or consider the level of bang that some humble but canny community-based organisations manage to get for their far smaller amount of bucks?

Two years ago, €50,000 in funding provided to a Kerry GAA club by the Department of Rural and Community Development stretched to providing a bike shed – and a walkway, car parking, and a picnic area!

A Cork sporting club, also given €50,000 funding, managed to use it to develop, yes, a bike shed as well as a car park, seating, a fountain in a lake, and the upgrading of a walking track.

Over the weekend, it also emerged that the Office Of Public Works, the self-same body that forked out for the Leinster House bike shed/canopy/structure, approved more than €35,000 for one of its executives to attend a prestigious business school in Paris less than a year before retirement.

It was felt, one newspaper was told, that this would have been value for money if, er, the official – who, it was reported, is now described as self-employed – had, er, continued to work in the state sector.

But, prior to signing the cheques and handing out the dosh, did anybody question how this official might justifiably be expected to use all that expensive investment in self-development and further education in a State sector role of some kind, post-retirement?

Sorry. Maybe it’s just me. I don’t get it.

I also don’t get why the official had to attend a business course in Paris – didn’t anybody ask why the many excellent business leadership courses in the Irish third-level sector were not considered adequate?

Does anybody, ever, ask questions at all when it comes to spending taxpayers’ money, until something leaks and the story breaks?

Then, those of us who trudge through long days sans a seat on the gravy train are afforded a glimpse of the awful reality that our hard-earned cash, forensically hoovered up by Revenue and earmarked for the use of the elite in Kildare Street, is essentially considered worthless by those who get to spend it.