I don’t know if you saw the RTÉ Prime Time feature on the M50 last week. It was like a Reeling In The Years clip from the Celtic Tiger era, featuring interviews with poor commuters and delivery drivers whose entire working lives are now measured in junction numbers. We’ve become accustomed to having to sit on it for ages on our fairly irregular trips in and out of Dublin, which is very frustrating, but I can only imagine the grey hairs that would result from daily use.

They’ve apparently done everything to alleviate congestion over the years, widened it, added lanes, introduced tolling, and still it fills up again. Transport Infrastructure Ireland says they’re out of ideas. They can’t make it any wider. They can’t make it a double decker. The last resort may be some sort of bridge troll from a children’s fairytale which scares people out of their car dependency.

It’s like a bucket in the rain. Traffic just grows to fit the size of the roads you give it. Now they’re talking about diverting traffic that would be heading for the M1 further west, to take pressure off the M50. But you know what’s going to happen. It’ll just fill up again. There’s talk of an Eastern Bypass along the coast, a route that’s been on the drawing board since the 1970s. There’s even the talk of a Leinster Orbital Route running from Drogheda to Naas via Navan and Trim, which would likely result in a third ring road and, inevitably, a fourth until Dublin became some sort of Saturn on the Liffey.

The bigger issue, of course, is that people are driving too much. And I notice all these headlines lately about multinationals and other big employers forcing people back into the office, herding the reluctant masses back onto the roads for the privilege of sitting in traffic so they can then sit at a desk with their headphones on.

We made a decision years ago to run our business remotely. We’ve just made a large scale animation series with people dotted all over the world, in fact. My commute involves dropping the kids to school, by bike when possible, and then climbing the stairs to my attic. I appreciate that I am very lucky to be able to do this. I also appreciate that for people in their early career, working from a room in their parents’ house is no way to build a life or to truly learn the ropes. There’s no simplistic solution here. One thing is clear though - as ever, we seem to have made life very hard on ourselves

Boycott has little impact

I was surprised to read this week that we have declared war on Israel using our most potent weapon, the three-minute pop song with a key change in the middle. Yes, Ireland is among a small group of countries who will boycott Eurovision because of Israel’s involvement.

It’s been quite a time for Irish-Israeli relations. Our ambassador in Tel Aviv, Sonya McGuinness, was publicly dressed down by Foreign Minister Gideon Sa’ar over the Herzog Park controversy, with Sa’ar describing Dublin as ‘the capital of antisemitism.’ Ambassador McGuinness told him he was “ill-informed,’ which is diplomatic language for go feck yourself.

There was a time when a three-minute song could make us feel like giants on the European stage. It’s fair to say our star has fallen in recent times with some proper turkeys being sent out to do battle. So, although the boycott might make some people in RTÉ feel good about themselves for a few weeks, when the dust has settled, it’s unlikely to make much of a dent in Netanyahu’s plans for Gaza.

I think most of us are quietly happy with this move, however ineffectual. Something doesn’t quite sit right when the Israeli entry is getting voted into second place, amid allegations of government-backed advertising campaigns to boost their votes, while hospitals full of children are being obliterated from the sky.

Spice Bag Square?

And finally, fresh from the fallout over Herzog Park, some Dublin city councillors have floated the idea of ‘decolonising’ the capital’s street names, removing those with British Empire origins. Sackville Street became O’Connell Street a century ago, they argue, so why stop there? It’s a fair question, I suppose, but the real fun lies in what we might replace them with. Zig & Zag Avenue, running parallel to the newly christened Jedward Place. You could enjoy a nice run around Troy Parrott Parade, pulling your shirt off your back. Hozier Boulevard would have a lovely ring to it, and it could make for a soulful and emotionally devastating walk.

Our culinary history could also be reflected. Bacon & Cabbage Junction, anyone? I’d personally lobby for Spice Bag Square.

The truth is, most Dubliners couldn’t tell you who Westmoreland or Dawson were if their lives depended on it.

But I reckon they’d certainly remember the day they had to give directions to Marty Whelan Way.