If an alien race (or indeed humans from the future) were to arrive in a desolate abandoned Ireland 1,000 years from now, their unearthing of the programme for government would be a rich source of insight into what sort of people the ancient Irish had been.
They would assume that we were a very pedantic people as far as stating the bleedin' obvious goes.
Apparently the government plans to maintain EU solidarity, while taking stock of other EU members' concerns. Imagine.
I assume we're also committed to the moon remaining in orbit and maintaining gravity at about the same level as now.
They'd also find us a curiously indecisive people, with a fetish for reviewing things. Our obsession with reviewing as outlined in the sacred text would almost certainly be mistaken by future archaeologists as a religious process. Yes, they would argue, the ancients' king, Micheál of The Green Tea and The Worried Forehead, who came after Leo the First and before Leo the Second, was a very devout man, often reviewing two or three times a day.
They would also speculate that the ancients did believe greatly in something called reskilling and upskilling, which they spoke of constantly and with great earnestness, with many passing through the process of reskilling, upskilling, and perhaps even downskilling, sideskilling and jumpingaroundskilling. These people would then become members of the greatest caste of the ancient Irish society, the Key Stakeholders.
The Key Stakeholders, future academics would speculate, were very important, given that the ancient text suggests that there were many, many forums where they would meet and frown and nod with great seriousness and speak of solidarity, and often decide when faced with an issue to make the great declaration: "Is there anything to be said for creating another forum, to discuss this one?"
The Key Stakeholders were so called because they were often found locked at Dublin Castle events.
I've read a fair few programmes for government in my time, and I have to admit I've never been shocked by one. Being the result of a system of proportional representation, they're always bound to be a smorgasbord of centrism, a selection of the least offensive things the various parties could agree about. Again, there's nothing wrong with that. After all, if a party won a majority of votes, or close enough to it, and a majority in the Dáil, it could implement its manifesto without haggling with anyone. But no party has done that since 1977, and let's be honest, we're not really that enthused about any single party holding all the power.
We're much more comfortable with one crowd of devious yahoos watching the other crowd of devious yahoos like hawks. As I've said in this column before, it's a core difference between Irish and UK politics: the Brits like the smack of firm government; the Irish like their pols to be afraid of getting a smack.
It does seem to be getting harder, however, with some parties doing a Veruca Salt and having a tantrum because other parties are allowed to play too. Some voters seem to be under the impression that their personal vote for party X is a vote to impose their minority opinion upon all the rest of the country and its various minority opinions. This is not the UK: you don't get to be Margaret Thatcher and win a majority of seats in the national parliament just because you scraped a bigger minority of the vote than some other fella. This is a proper democracy.
To paraphrase the former Canadian prime minister Paul Martin, we're all minorities now.
The fact that the programme is a document of minimum resistance doesn't mean it doesn't have the odd little nugget of interest. Indeed, it's a bit like one of those pictures with the plastic lines that change depending on what angle you're looking from.
For the huggy left, it promises, in a very daring endeavour, to measure wellbeing. I look forward to people being told, Big Brother-style, that they're well whether they like it or not.
One intriguing section promises that people can micro-generate electricity from their homes. I'm sort of thinking that if we wire standing bikes into the mains we could reduce our reliance on fossil fuels, reduce traffic congestion, allow for rural repopulation and reduce obesity all in one clean sweep, with a Spandex-wearing minister for wellness Eamon Ryan exhorting us on the telly to generate more electricity like a national cycling herd. Or 'The Matrix'.
There's also a pledge to "Establish a National Public Transport Forum involving all stakeholders and commence section 17 of the Dublin Transport Authority Act to establish the Transport Advisory Council". And you thought I was joking about forums setting up forums.
For the wallet-watching right, there's a clear pledge not to raise income tax, and to use Nama windfalls to pay down debt.
There's also to be a Just Transition Commissioner to transitition from carbon and towards automation and robots, which sounds like it is taking the mickey but I think is actually a serious issue. It could be the coolest job in the country. You could end up hanging around with that blonde Cylon from 'Battlestar Galactica'. Or Willie O'Dea. Or a robot Willie O'Dea.
There's to be a defence commission to review "arrangements for the effective defence of the country at land, air and sea". Aside from issuing every home with a pre-loaded attack wolf, I suspect the conclusion will be to learn Russian.
Finally, there's a commitment to bring in tobacco-style taxes on vaping. Mark that in your diary as a serious government handbrake turn in future.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to attend a stakeholder upskilling course. Or a holding steak on a skillet course. Whichever gives the bigger grant.