It would be wrong to use this column to undermine the gaiety of the nation, and it would be irresponsible to chip away at said gaiety, pleasure by pleasure, writes Ann Marie Hourihane.
However, this week, with news of the job losses at the Allergan plant in Arklow, it does seem opportune to dwell a little on the subject of breasts. Allergan manufactures breast implants, amongst other things. Mind you, in this culture it is always opportune to dwell on breasts. Never has so much been exposed by so many to, well, everyone else.
At one point Irish women had to do their very best to pretend that we did not have breasts as they were an occasion of other people's sin.
We had to swathe them in wool and wear our overcoats indoors in case we started a riot, or upset the priests, who were notoriously sensitive in these matters.
In the 1960s and 1970s breasts became unfashionable, and were, therefore, a cause of shame both on the grounds of Irish morality and - much more woundingly for the young - international fashion.
In the 1960s Barbara Windsor built a career on exposing her breasts in the most inappropriate circumstances. Younger readers should note that in those days Barbara Windsor was a comedienne, not the great dramatic actress she is today. Her breasts were funny because they were unavoidable.
Even in the 1980s breasts were strictly for evening wear; it was just about permissible to stick a bit of diamante in your cleavage after dark, but the breasts, like Cinderella and vampires, were usually home before it was bright. (Often in somebody else's home, but that's another story.)
The point here is, whatever happened to cocktail hour? Now, though. Now. Now breasts are exposed, in the most casual manner, in the most surprising circumstances. Like the bank, for example. And the supermarket. And the reception area of very respectable offices. And the newsagents.
Even as a female it is hard to know how you are supposed to react to an eyeful of someone else's cleavage at 10.30 in the morning.
It is difficult not to be curious when, as an anonymous bystander, you can see straight down someone's blouse to the lowest point of a stranger's bra. The ubiquity of the exposed breast makes dirty old men of us all - even if you are female.
There are surely many reasons for the fact that the Irish breast has never been so visible.
The booming economy used to be just such a reason. Breasts, like short skirts, have frequently been taken as a sign of economic plenty.
The sexualisation of our culture, where the female ideal is taken directly from the porn industry, is surely another.
This is not the place to explore the reasons why our beautiful young women seem determined to look like very tanned, dollar-a-night lap-dancers. But the acquisition of brand new, surgically-enhanced breasts has also had an impact on the amount of cleavage shown in public. There is a crude term for this phenomenon: Pay And Display.
Yet the breast thing is bigger than that. Breasts have broken through the barriers of the sexual context, they have left even flirting far behind them, and hit the main street. By this I mean that the exposed breast is everywhere, all the time. Even women who are not dressed to impress, or to seduce, who are just going about their daily business, have those top buttons undone. Maybe it's a form of aggression.
As one man put it: "You're meant to look but you're not allowed."
Last year Britain's home secretary Jacqui Stephen scored a first in the House of Commons when she delivered one of the first speeches of her new appointment with a television camera pointing straight down her top. You can see the logic of her position. She's a substantial woman, in a man's world, and the fashion advice in those circumstances is to wear a big necklace and emphasise your femininity. Mistake.
For the exposure of younger women's breasts I blame the porn industry, and the eternal female desire to please.
For the exposure of older women's breasts I blame Trinny and Susannah and the eternal female desire not to be left behind. We all know the Trinny and Susannah tactic on this: you're over 35, you've put on a bit of pud, your waist is gone, for God's sake get a good bra to hoik them up a bit, and show that you're still game.
While many of us would sympathise with - nay, live by - this world view, it does have its limits.
When Trinny and Susannah say that we should show a bit of cleavage because it "hints at what could yet be revealed" it might be worthwhile considering if your colleagues and bosses and customers want to be thinking about what yet could be revealed, especially if you are, for example, a lawyer.
Behind all this breast exposure is a new and troubling distrust of the male imagination. Someone should sit down and talk to the men who were young in the 1950s, in the days of the Sweater Girls.
They managed, you know.