THERE was certainly more than a hint of irony in the midst of all the planning for festive giving and generosity.

Scrooge had his Christmas carol tuning-fork out early this year. Whether by cruel accident or cynical design, those charged with the financial management of our civil coffers, be they in the UK, Ireland or both bailiwicks, were sharpening their scissors for expenditure cuts, efficiencies and political back-saving. And it came to pass that no amount of chestnut stuffing would fill the black holes in these turkeys.

We have had a couple of weeks to mull over the messages from the various chancelleries – enough to recognise that from complacency, to panic, to political dumb insolence, there has been a shared pageant of Grand Old Duke of York parade drill.

On superficial reading, Middle England will be severely clobbered, after the general election, while Middle Jersey was saved, much to his own surprise, by the leader of an in-House rebellion and parish champion of horse and hounds. But it’s not over yet, and might even represent a pyrrhic victory. Clever devices to delay have a sad history of bad-penny return.

The big picture is indeed a sorry one. Insofar as our local economy is dependent on decisions taken by those with hands in larger pockets across the water, we have all been touched by the effects of the recession and the resulting blame-game. While the differing solutions are, to a great an extent, governed by scale, the targets are surprisingly similar.

Bankers’ bonuses apart, from a popular point of view there are few surprises that the usual suspects such as duty on alcohol, tobacco and fuel bear the serial brunt, because they are traditionally the prime levers the Treasury can grasp. Forget the spurious arguments about health implications; the Treasury needs us to smoke and drink, even to drive useless miles in our motor cars, because these so-called luxury items represent the main elements in any Chancellor or Treasury Minister’s current account collecting box.

But, you might say, why not put a tax on cut flowers, or mortality – that’s a revenue-earning clockwork certainty if ever there was?

What about immigration – a levy on anyone brought in to work in the Island for whom there might be an equally well-qualified local inhabitant?

Or even windows? Now there’s an idea. They did that once; it was a nice little earner until wily locals bricked up their apertures. Thanks to the plethora of contemporary ‘award-winning’ architects practising their art in this Island, there’s a huge resource of taxable glassware begging to yield revenue.

There are, of course, deeper cuts available, which inevitably have a significant effect on lifestyle and social fabric. They affect the balance of society between the haves and the have-nots. Sadly, on the evidence of the UK pre-Budget statement, the prospect is a bleak for both.

Clearly, in a situation as grim as currently exists, with an unfathomable budget deficit of £178 billion to repay, every avenue should be explored. But where is the justice in servicing this by creaming off more from the prudent or the old to underwrite the profligate? Or setting the bar for clawing in added revenue so low as to affect nurses, teachers, care workers and emergency workers and those earning a meagre £20,000 per annum?

There is obviously a popular appetite for the States to reduce their own spending, but it’s not front-line public service jobs which should be raided to reduce deficits. The cull should be directed precisely at the bloated, high-salaried quangos, consultants and pen-pushers – all super-glued to guaranteed pension provisions funded out of the public purse.

It’s hard not to interpret the current message as: those who struggle to work bail out all others – from the ‘I’m better off on benefits’ spongers right up to the greedy, irresponsible gamblers at the top.

Given the flip-flop nature of UK party politics, when backs are to the wall one administration can always conveniently go back on spending undertakings set in stone by its predecessor. Here, in the fledgling comfort of our new ministerial autocracy, there is merely ‘room for manoeuvre’ in the face of ‘changed circumstances’. But don’t expect a cast-iron ring-fence around 3% GST or ‘20 means 20’.

Following the initial debacle, our Treasury Minister openly admitted that he needed £4 million in a hurry, and he hasn’t given up attempts to get it.

Some might suggest that from his seat in the States Chamber, he should be casting dark glances over his shoulder at his ministerial colleague whose errant ring-binder squandered more than twice that much at a stroke during the voting fiasco over the Town Park.

He might also nudge his front-bench neighbour to enforce those £50 penalties for driving while on the phone, which would at least line the rim of the black-hole bucket. It’s certainly not only on UK roads that the law is being openly flouted on a daily basis.

I reckon there would be more sympathy for the beleaguered custodians of our fiscal health if we could see overwhelming evidence of long-term strategic thinking and spending, rather than daily doses of crisis management. Any financial advisor worth their salt will look beyond today’s balance sheet towards tomorrow’s investment.

Our economy is facing difficult times, but we aren’t broke. Now is surely the time to resist ‘grandstanding’ projects and look ahead – really ahead – to setting aside provision for dignity in old age; new reservoirs to store the abundance of winter rain for use during the predicted arid summers; investing in sea defences; and harnessing solar power on off-shore reefs to reduce reliance on fossil fuel as the demographic and climate-change clocks tick inexorably towards midnight.