As God’s vicar on earth, the Pope is deemed by Catholics to be infallible. On religious matters, Bertie Ahern also seems to believe he can do no wrong.

Last Thursday, Pope Benedict XVI delivered a welcome if belated expression of regret for the misery caused by the clerics who, for 40 years, raped and tortured children in the Ferns diocese. By contrast, a day earlier in the Dail the taoiseach repeated his unrepentant defence of the shameful 2002 deal between state and church that indemnified the 18 orders of priests, brothers and nuns who ran those institutions where children were horrifically abused.

Under this cosy arrangement, the taxpayer was stung for over 90% of the redress payments awarded to victims as well as the accompanying legal costs. “I’ll make no apology to this house or to anyone else about the way we did it,” harrumphed Ahern, the great conciliator.

The taoiseach’s bolshy stance is grimly ironic, given the supine pose his government adopted during negotiations with the Catholic institutions. Hastily concluded in the dying hours of the last Fianna Fail/Progressive Democrat coalition, the redress pact was an answer to the church’s most fervent prayers. Not so much a sweetheart deal as a Sacred Heart deal.

The religious orders’ contribution to the compensation bill was capped at €127m, a sum that included the value of some properties already donated to the state. This, the institutions argued, was the maximum they could afford. Yet, according to the Comptroller & Auditor General, the state never sought verifiable accounts of the church’s assets.

By entrusting children to the care of religious orders, Ahern argues, the state was jointly responsible for their fate. If this were the case, the exchequer would be liable for half the redress costs. Yet the taxpayer has paid all but €100m of the €1.3 billion bill, and we aren’t finished yet.

The government is clearly in denial about the fact that it was outplayed by the churchmen. A devout Catholic himself, Ahern evidently prefers to believe he was serving some higher moral purpose by saving the religious orders from what he claims would have been insolvency.

Apart from the fact that he doesn’t know how much these orders are actually worth, the taoiseach overlooks the demand of natural justice, and indeed biblical law, that wrongdoers pay for their crimes, whatever the consequences.

Having squandered a fortune in public money bailing out institutions that richly deserve bankruptcy, Ahern adds insult to injury by polishing his halo while cleaning out our wallets. He should follow the example of Pope Benedict, a fellow religious leader, and admit that occasionally his band of disciples makes mistakes.

• Despite the organisation’s title, Reporters sans Frontières (RSF) are clearly not without limitations. In their latest annual report, the Paris-based campaigners against media censorship rank this country’s press as virtually the freest in the world. Apparently only Finnish journalists enjoy greater liberty to bark and bite at the powerful than the unfettered Irish newshounds.

  But don’t believe everything you read. The RSF’s glowing assessment of Irish press freedom comes as an editor and a journalist, Geraldine Kennedy and Colm Keena of The Irish Times, face criminal sanctions for publishing revelations about secret payments by businessmen to a serving finance minister.

  The notion of Ireland as a haven of free speech is also challenged by punitive libel laws. These are routinely used by the rich and infamous to stymie media comment and inquiry. In return for repeal of this legislation, the justice minister, Michael McDowell, proposes privacy laws that will be even more restrictive.

  The full story of Irish political corruption has yet to be told. Planning chicanery, for instance, was not confined to either Dublin or the 1980s. Any attempt by media to probe the darker recesses of public life, however, are invariably met by court injunctions and threats of lawsuits. As would-be champions of investigative journalism, the RSF should get their facts straight.

  Why the judge is hopping mad

  One imagines that a veteran district court judge would find little shocking about a raucous evening of ladette erotica. After all, hair extensions, garters and silk gowns are as popular during working hours with legal eagles as they are, after dark, with hen parties.

  Nevertheless, Judge John Brophy flipped his wig last week at Kells court as he heard evidence about the shenanigans of young women at a local Ann Summers soirée. On enduring as much detail about Rampant Rabbits and brawling shrews as he could stomach, the judge removed himself from the case, explaining he’d become “prejudiced” against one of the accused.

  The case involved an expression of contemporary Irish maidenhood. A row had erupted outside the Ann Summers party after a 19-year-old was denied entry because she’d allegedly stolen a vibrator at a previous gathering. A series of violent skirmishes followed. To maintain the party spirit, however, other guests spent the time jogging around the estate wrapped in loo roll. “Are they all sick in Kells?” thundered Judge Brophy.

  Having faced down terrorists, mob bosses and drug lords, the Irish judiciary has finally been forced to recoil in horror by, well, a bunch of girls.

  There’s a funny side to male impotence?

  The Irish media was highly amused last week by American medical research that revealed that intensive use of mobile phones by men can damage their fertility. Doctors at the Cleveland Clinic say mobiles emit electromagnetic radiation that increases testicular temperature, disrupting sperm production.

  Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire! The response from columnists and broadcasters was a collective snigger. Several commentators, male and female, observed that impotence was precisely what every handset- happy bloke richly deserves.

  The tee-hee treatment of the story contrasts with last year’s sympathetic coverage of the legal action launched by 30 former Eircom switchboard operators — almost all women — who claimed to have suffered “acoustic shock” at work.

  Depending on one’s gender, technology-related injury can either be a laughing matter or a source of concern. Male infertility is a joke, while female hearing-impairment is a tragedy. Clearly, there is no standard rate for all callers.

  Having chronicled virtually every moment of her private life in print, Mackle would be the last person to seek cheap self-publicity, more accustomed as she is to getting paid for it.

  But questions about de Burgh’s supernatural powers remain. If he can heal the lame and wretched, for instance, why doesn’t he start with his back catalogue?

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