Getting a lift from the lads, and getting lit up to boot. . .

Legal changes could help to put a new slant on the smoke and mirrors of Irish drivers

I'M GIVING up smoking. As you can imagine, I'm none too chipper. My mood is see-sawing between mildly grumpy and severely genocidal. My colleagues have given me a wide berth. So wide, indeed, that I came into Emissions Towers this morning to find my desk outside on the balcony. "Please put this on. It's for the best," said the note pinned to the full-body nicotine patch hanging over my chair. I could see the wretches cowering inside, watching. Harumph.

Predictably, I'm in even less frame of mind than usual to suffer fools gladly. Sadly for me, I'm surrounded by them. Take, for example, drivers on their second learner permits - formerly known as provisional licence holders.

Will these Provos ever stop with their petulant bleating about now having to be accompanied by a fully-licensed driver?

You poor lambs. Not allowed to break the law any more. My heart is bleeding for you all. Just get over it. According to the "law", I'm not allowed obliterate SUVs with a bazooka. But you don't hear me whining about it, do you?

Stupidly, considering my state of mind, I had a browse of a few internet forums where I was told Provos hang out. Up in arms, the lot of them. "We're being victimised by the government/gardaí/securocrats/all of the above!" they whinged. I soon realised I was reading the rantings of the wrong Provos. So I clicked on to a forum for Provo drivers instead. Oddly enough, their sentiments were identical. Lads and ladies; have a look at yourselves in your battered Micras. I don't think Garda Malachy on traffic duty will exactly require Inspector Morse-esque powers of deduction to work out that there's a teensy, weensy chance that you may not be fully qualified. Consider the €1,000 fine you'll be getting as an idiot tax.

Then there's this business about the licensed supervisor being immune to breathalysation.

According to the law, as long as the dude gibbering to himself in the passenger seat has held a full driving licence for at least two years, he counts as an alibi. It doesn't matter if he's stewed to the gills on alcopops or utterly yarbled on finest Afghan heroin, a long as he's "supervising".

I can see it now: Provo drivers leaving nightclubs, scanning the crowd for passed out goons they know to a) live near them and b) be in possession of a licence.

They'll shunt these stooges into their cars, thus enabling them to swan through Garda checkpoints unhindered. And the drunk gets to within staggering distance of home. It's a win-win situation. Assuming, of course, that the Provo doesn't wrap them both around a tree on the way.

Which got me thinking: You may have read about the phenomenon of Washington DC's "slugs", commuters who queue up on the side of the road for total strangers to pick them up and drive them into the city in the morning and back home again in the evening. It's a symbiotic relationship - the slugs get a free lift into work, the drivers get to use the high-occupancy lanes and dodge traffic. Clever, eh?

Why not adapt it for our Provo chums?

If you don't fancy driving to work, or sardining it on public transport, or are too wasted to find your shoes, never mind your office, merely stand by the road, waving your pink driving licence.

I guarantee you will be picked up by a mentor-seeking Provo in seconds. You'll get a lift, he'll be able to stick his L-plates back on fearlessly. You know, I could be on to something here. I think I'll spark up that emergency Cohiba to celebrate. I deserve it. Don't I?