THERE are times when I glance at the front page of this newspaper and, apart from getting that sinking feeling in my stomach and uttering what Herself describes as one of my silent groans (usually accompanied, according to her, with me shaking my head and rolling my eyes), I feel this sense of disbelief.

It happened last week and the sensations didn’t disappear as I read through the story but actually got worse.
Well, what do you expect if you read that more than one in five of that lot in the Big House’s hired help have been issued with what the private sector call a company credit card.

Indeed, when I’d finished the article it felt as if my jaw had dropped so much that it had hit the belt on my trousers with an audible thud. I suppose I should be grateful that I’ve been blessed with a reasonable memory – not so much for remembering what I’ve been sent to the shop for (if there are more than a couple of items I have to write them down) – but at times like this I’m not too sure that it’s a blessing.

On this occasion my recollection related to the near fanfare of not that many years ago when our elected representatives announced that they were going to reduce costs (and, presumably as a consequence, the amount of our money it takes to keep the wheels of government running efficiently and effectively) by setting up what I think was called a central purchasing department.

Its function, as I recall, was to co-ordinate departmental spending on the essentials common to all the bits of the public sector so that the biggest discounts for bulk purchasing could be obtained. After all, even a simple country boy like me knows that if I happen to chance upon a case of halfway-decent Calvados then the odds are that I’ll be able to negotiate a better deal for buying it outright than if I bought the stuff a bottle at a time.

Never mind simple country boys, I’d have thought that something this basic would have been obvious to a monkey swinging a stick. For example, surely it should follow that if all the States departments – and just look at the pages of them that there are in the phone book – ordered all their paper and envelopes from that central purchasing unit then there can’t be any cheaper way of getting them.

To be honest, I thought that was happening until I read that of the 6,660 people whose little brown envelopes that go into back pockets every Friday have the contents supplied by our taxes, a total of 1,500 of them have been given a company credit card.

As that nice lady from the Treasury who was quoted in the story put it, the problem with leaving it to all these individuals to buy things like stationary is not one of fraud – and I am certainly not suggesting that these bits of plastic are being misused – but more one of the individuals not having the time to shop around for the best deal and not benefiting from the bulk purchasing discounts I have already described.

I’d have thought that the issue of these things would have been far more restricted than it seems to be – indeed, if asked prior to the publication of this story how many public employees have one, I’d have given an estimate which would have been in double figures rather than the 1,500 which the Treasury say have been issued.

It would appear that everyone with more responsibility than simply feeding the office cat has got one, a situation I find absolutely mind-boggling. After I’d read the story I spoke to a neighbour of mine who works for what is by Jersey standards a medium size organisation with about 50 employees and he said that this outfit had issued them to three people or six per cent – a far cry from the figure of between a fifth and a quarter that the Treasury has revealed.

It’s probably fitting that the story appeared not long after it was announced that John Richardson had been made deputy head lad of the public sector – a role which he said centred on saving taxpayers’ money.
All I can say now is that he doesn’t have to be a rocket scientist to work out where to start.

I HAD half an hour to waste the other morning while waiting to pick up Herself and her mate from yet another shopping expedition to the metropolis so I took the passion wagon for a spin around the harbour area.
It’s a while since I drove around there and, just like the last time I went, I had one of my silent groans when I saw what used to be the La Folie Inn near the South Pier.

As far as I know that whole block still belongs to the public, although no doubt someone will correct me if I’m wrong, and the old building – where time past you could buy all sorts of fish as well as a pint or a slug or three of apple juice – looks a very sad sight indeed.

It’s probably not the best time to advocate putting any property on the market but it really is a crying shame that somewhere like this is being allowed to turn into a tumbledown eyesore – not dissimilar to what was bequeathed to the States near the old gas works.

I’d have thought that despite the current housing market this site could still be used to accommodate several families. Will it be left to fall down before that happens?

And finally, having just disposed of Christmas I suppose it should come as no surprise to see shops with shelves laden with Easter eggs. What’s next – tailors’ dummies dressed in skimpy bikinis trying to kid us that summer’s just around the corner?