Which has more moral mileage, the Ford Foundation or Model T?

The cash for peerages inquiry prompts me to wheel out yet again my brilliant single solution to three huge national problems: the honours system, the funding of political parties and the reform of the House of Lords.

Thriftily using Premium Bonds' existing technology (the Electronic Random Number generator) the government markets Nobility Bonds.

Bonds cost £100 each. Foreigners in particular are encouraged to buy. Every month, a given number of honours are allocated according to ERNIE's whim. There will quite a lot of MBEs and OBEs and CBEs, a tempting selection of Knighthoods, and rather fewer Peerages. As the equivalent of a double roll-over, there would be a single Dukedom (or indeed Duchessdom) to supercharge sales at Christmas time.

The advantages are immediately and compellingly obvious. Nobility Bonds neatly neuter all accusations of cronyism, elitism, corruption or nepotism. Anyone can become a Lord. The House of Lords becomes genuinely disinterested; its members owe nothing to anyone. Since the appointments are for life only, the government, responsible as ever, would be selling an infinitely renewableresource, obtained at zero cost, at astronomical margins. Honours have always been the ultimateexample of added value; it's high time their power was harnessed for the national good.

The huge sums generated (much from abroad, thus greatly strengthening our balance of payments position) would in part go to fund our political parties. Private and corporate donations would be disallowed and state funding would be unnecessary.

Quite quickly, of course, the House of Lords would be brought into serious disrespect, thus making a major contribution to the elimination of snobbery and deference; though this would in no way discourage Russian billionaires and Californian cyber-czars from applying for Nobility Bonds in industrial quantities.

It's shameful that such an elegant and economical solution should continue to be ignored.

THE MEANING OF MOTIVES

It's all got me thinking again about motives. I've always been fascinated by motives. The cash for city academies question wouldn't be a scandal were it not for serious doubts about motives.

Would cause-related marketing lose its appeal if all donations had to be made anonymously? Yes: totally. Does that mean that cause-related marketing is so shamelessly self-interested that its donations should be refused? No, it does not.

When industrialists notorious for a lifetime's ruthlessness finally agree to have their portraits unveiled in the boardroom, they endow a Foundation with £75 million. In a fawning profile, they are asked what prompted them to do so. 'I realised I'd been lucky in life,' they invariably say. 'I felt it was time to put something back.'

Why is this nauseating sentiment never challenged? It's perfectly true that all their rapacious lives they've been taking things out. But at the same time, however inadvertently, they've presumably been putting things back as well: like paying taxes and giving other people employment and buying things. But it seems that even ruthless industrialists are programmed to believe that only true philanthropy deserves brownie points – and only the purest of philanthropy at that.

So – and this is where the real hypocrisy creeps in – they pretend to a purity of motive that's neither attainable nor necessary: 'I just felt it was time to put something back.'

Which, predictably, is greeted by knowing sneers: 'Well, we all know why he did that, don't we?' Snigger, snigger.

As it happens, we almost certainly don't. What's more, the benefactor himself almost certainly doesn't. It may be a bit of guilt, a bit of true generosity, a personal interest in the chosen cause, a tax break, a peace-offering to St Peter, an attempt to impress sweet Adeline, a place on a committee chaired by a minor royal, an up-yours to a successful rival – or even some half-acknowledged interest in public recognition. It may be all of those things and as many again: far too complicated and intertwined to be identified separately or allocated relative values. It certainly won't be an unadulterated desire to put something back. And, in any case, it doesn't matter.

It's often been said of Henry Ford that he made a greater contribution to human happiness by inventing the Model T than the Ford Foundation billions have ever done. Impossible to test, of course, but it sounds probable. And there would certainly have been a greater purity of purpose in the invention and marketing of the Model T. But the world is a better place for his having invented both and I defy anyone to allocate a higher moral content to one over the other. Nevertheless, we continue to pretend that philanthropy should be entirely uncontaminated by self-interest.

THE MOTIVE PURITY MONITOR

Neuroscience generally and magnetic resonance imaging specifically are coming along apace at the moment. Already, colourful pictures can be taken of our brains as we're subjected, in real time, to a range of different stimuli. I like to think that, very soon, the world's first Motive Purity Monitor will be up and running.

Anyone wishing to donate a sum of money to a worthy cause, or launch a Foundation, or accept an Honorary Patronage, will first be required to be scanned. The screen will immediately display a Purity of Motive Calibration: from zero (saintly) to 10 (villainous). The donations of those with a reading of two or over will be courteously rejected. And 9 out of 10 charities in the country will have closed down by Christmas.

The Motive Purity Monitor will, however, be of great value to Lord Stevenson, Chairman of the House of Lords Appointments Commission. When scrutinising the candidates for peerages submitted by political parties, a quick MPM scan will tell him all he needs to know.

As a consequence, there will be so few new entrants to the Upper House that the only answer may have to be the introduction of Nobility Bonds.