SO we will continue to feel the burn here in Jersey.

The incinerator debate has been won and, all things being equal (which, let’s face it, they invariably are not), we will one day get a shiny new plant that does not have bits falling off the chimney.

By all accounts the debate was the usual pig’s breakfast of speeches which went on too long without the necessary clout to convince one way or the other. And the vote was a tight one in the end.

It might seem a bit petty in the aftermath, but I still want to be convinced by someone that there is no other way forward.

Perhaps it is just that in terms of conviction, I want to believe that there is a greener and better way of doing things than burning them. Of course, if that is the case many of us still need a fairly healthy kick in the right direction.

Also, if we are going to spend a whopping £106 million on anything, then we absolutely, 100 per cent, need to make sure we are getting it right if we get a new one.

It is just so big (really, really big) and costs so much money that, on principle, it seems only right to argue against it. Who wouldn’t baulk at spending that kind of money and start wringing their hands and sweating a little?

Before the Transport and Technical Services department start throwing rotten veg in this direction in frustration at my ignorance, I do understand that our options are limited by the need to do something before the current incinerator simply calls time, but to go ahead with a new one if it was not the right decision after all the delays would be unforgivable.

So much has been said about the need to recycle and waste less and fly less and cycle more and somehow because of all that the need to do anything that might appear to be less than ice-cap friendly is instantly frowned upon.

All of which basically means a rather large pile of confusion for those of us who, by default and upbringing (both of which come down to blaming someone else) want to hold up banners for all things green but who are also scared that not accepting the incinerator will mean wading about in next door’s discarded baked beans (at best).

It’s probably all about that very modern dilemma of needing something to feel guilty about. Since personally clubbing seals is out of the question for most of us, both morally and geographically, the incinerator works on the guilt scale because it helps to melt their habitat instead. Guilt without the actual blood is clearly the best kind.

Anyway, the point is that on principle it is a bad, bad idea, even if practically it is the best solution for everyone. At least it had better be for £106 million.