Disturbing news from the courts last week. A homosexual who killed and ate his lover was sentenced to 30 years behind bars. Which means, after he gets out a week on Tuesday, he’s going to come round to your house, sprinkle you with some herbs and pop you in the oven.

Plainly, this is unacceptable and something must be done to keep cannibals out of our houses and our schools. But what?

Of course, I’m sure there are a great many people who think that if someone chooses one day to cook his best friend, he has demonstrated fairly clearly that he’s resigned from the human race and must be shot in the forehead immediately, like a useless horse.

However, I do not agree with capital punishment. I wish I did. Discharging 4m volts through anyone who has murdered, butchered or driven too slowly up the A44 would solve a great many problems, especially if carbon-neutral energy from wind farms were used.

But because I find the idea of state execution abhorrent, I’ve had to spend the whole week dreaming up new ways of ensuring that people who can’t behave properly are kept away from society for an appropriate length of time.

The problem right now is that all our prisons are full; and while there are plans to increase the number of cells over the coming years, few imagine for a moment that the supply will even remotely keep up with demand.

In Scotland, they are even talking of not putting anyone in jail for less than three months. This, say the Jocks, will free up space for those who really need to be there.

It’s a nice idea if you are a wishy-washy liberal, but it does mean that young men in hooded tops who run about town centres at night stealing mobile phones and pushing old ladies over cannot be punished at all.

You can’t fine them, because they have no money. You can’t confiscate their belongings because everything they have is stolen anyway. You can’t give them an electric ankle bracelet because that is seen as a mark of respect – and if you can’t send them to prison, society is completely stuck.

The obvious solution is to build more prisons, but for a number of reasons, this isn’t possible. First, Alistair Darling has given all our money to Mr Barclay, Mr Lloyd and Mr Rock, so there’s none left. And second, the new prisons would have to be built somewhere. And everywhere is someone’s backyard.

In the olden days, when I was rash, I dreamt up a plan that involved many more prisoners being housed in the jails we have already. The idea, in a nutshell, called for “massive overcrowding”.

If there are currently four to a cell, shove in another 30, and don’t worry about the cost of feeding them. Simply fit a window box and explain that they can eat only what they can grow. And if the harvest fails for any reason, well, they could take a leaf out of the cannibal’s book and eat each other.

The lavatory would be a bucket, the central heating would be the bucket, too, and for entertainment, there would be bullying on a grand scale.

I’m afraid, however, that I went off this idea because I actually know quite a few people who’ve done some time, and I don’t like the idea of them sitting around all day trying to stop someone from eating their thighs.

Don’t worry, however, because now I’ve come up with another plan – and it’s brilliant.

At present, the government is doing a great deal to ensure that people who are struggling to pay their mortgages are not evicted from their houses by the recently nationalised banks. This is very noble. But the idea that you can borrow money to buy a house and then not pay it all back undermines the very essence of capitalism.

People must be made to understand that if they have dug themselves into a financial hole, they have to earn their way out again. And so, I believe the government should pay these people a small rent each month, which can go towards covering their mortgage, if they agree to have a prisoner staying in the spare room.

I admit this is a bit of a lottery. You could get a cannibal from Leeds who creeps into your bedroom every night with a knife and fork and some mango chutney. Or you could get Otis Ferry, who’s on remand only because he wants to chase foxes.

I’m not sure, though, that this is any different from the chance you take when you hire an au pair. You could get a moose who wants to practise her drop-kicks on your children or you could get a raving nymphomaniac who has an allergy to underwear.

And anyway, let’s be honest, it’s a lottery for the prisoner as well because he could end up at my house, chained to a radiator for 26 hours a day in the Terry Waite suite. Or he could end up staying with a woman who bakes him cakes, lets him out for walkies and on Sundays allows him to chew on her bingo wings.

Plainly, an idea this radical needs to be tested before it’s rolled out on a national scale, and I’m happy to be a guinea pig. Simply send me the chap from AIG who took my money and gave it to Wayne Rooney and now won’t give it back, and I’ll be happy to see how he likes being a prisoner in my spare room for a year or two.

I should imagine, after the savage beatings and the dog sick, he’ll be fully rehabilitated and able to go back into the world of international finance without feeling compelled to give any money to Wayne Rooney ever again.

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