Curious case of Bishop and Mrs Brown

RADIO REVIEW:THE OLD MAXIM about laughter being the best medicine is, at the best of times, a debatable proposition. When a cross-dressing comedian pitches his potty-mouthed sitcom as the key to ground-breaking medical research, however, it is probably time for the proverb to be quietly retired, lest other stand-ups go further and start a sideline as consultant surgeons. Yet there was Brendan O'Carroll last Tuesday, mooting the former scenario on Ryan Tubridy's radio show (2FM, weekdays).

The Dublin comic went on Tubridy to recount his experience of winning a Bafta for his sitcom Mrs Brown’s Boys. O’Carroll’s delight at picking up the award was obvious from his giddy tone; that he had, by his own admission, been up late celebrating for the two previous nights probably added to his mood. He mused on how far he had come: having been a waiter for 18 years, he said, his current success was a privilege. After some mutual backslapping – Tubridy claimed it was a good-news story for the country; O’Carroll said the award was a vindication for his host, a longtime supporter of his comedy – that was that.

Almost. “Before I go, I’d like to make a request,” said O’Carroll. He had, he said, received 100 or so letters from the parents of autistic children, detailing how their offspring had laughed for the first time when watching Mrs Brown’s Boys. If anyone from a university wished to research how visual comedy could elicit this response, he was willing to fund it.

O’Carroll added more details about this remarkable development when he later appeared on News at One (RTÉ Radio 1, weekdays). One woman, he said, had written to express her gratitude that her son had said his first word when watching the show. “It was ‘bastard’,” O’Carroll gleefully added.

He also said that several universities had already been in touch since his interview with Tubridy, though this is probably as much a comment on the sad pecuniary state of the third-level sector as on the potential medical benefits of O’Carroll’s comedy. “It sounds like you’re going to take out the chequebook,” said Seán O’Rourke. “Well, what are you going to do with it? Once it goes past the first 10 million it doesn’t matter,” replied the comedian, guffawing loudly.

The dominant tone throughout both slots was one of infectious joy. But O’Carroll also found time to take a swipe at those who have in the past looked down on his style of broad popular comedy. The extraordinary reaction of some autistic children to his sitcom was, he told Tubridy, “the eraser at the end of your pencil that rubs out the critics”. There seemed to be some scars that laughter has not yet healed.

As it happened, dissenting views about O’Carroll’s work were still being aired last week. The detractor in question was not a snooty member of the criterati but his fellow comedian Des Bishop, sitting in on Tom Dunne (Newstalk, weekdays). “I’m not one for being critical of other comedians, and I’ll be diplomatic on it,” said Bishop before giving a masterclass in damning with faint praise. “He’s a lovely guy and a funny man, but I have struggled to enjoy Mrs Brown’s Boys,” adding that he didn’t “actively hate” the sitcom.

But it is a tribute to Bishop’s on-air presence – a mishmash of self-deprecation, wry social awareness and puppy-dog enthusiasm – that his comments came across as disarmingly candid rather than sourly begrudging.

These qualities served him well throughout his week-long stint, as he performed his chatshow duties with some aplomb. Lacking the near-horizontal deportment of Dunne, the comedian instead used his acerbic outsider’s eye to make acute observations about Irish life, linking our national gift for litter with the widespread custom of not clearing up one’s table after eating at fast-food outlets. “I would suggest that creates a culture where people expect people think it’s somebody else’s job to pick up stuff,” he said.

As well as such insightful nuggets, Bishop aimed barbs at his temporary work colleagues. “If there’s anyone in the Newstalk offices listening,” he said with mock outrage, “I just went to the toilet and had to do a sitting-down. And somebody had peed on the seat.” It was perhaps too much information for a morning audience.

He was also adept at handling more serious material, perhaps unsurprisingly given the issue-driven nature of his comedy. Discussing assisted suicide with Tom Curran of the advocacy group Exit International, Bishop was by turns inquisitive, sympathetic and sceptical, sounding more comfortable than Dunne often does when addressing sensitive topics.

He even resisted the temptation to use his guest’s slips for comic effect. Stressing that patients could opt out of the assisted-suicide process at any point, Curran at one point made the rather self-evident assertion that “the right to live is just as strong as the right to die, and I completely support anybody’s right to live”. Rather than mock his guest’s magnanimity, Bishop let the poorly phrased statement pass by. Even comedians sometimes know silence is better than cheap laughter.

Radio moment of the week

When the American author John Irving appeared on Arena (RTÉ Radio 1, weekdays) to discuss In One Person, his new novel about a bisexual man’s life, Seán Rocks, the host, asked the writer about his famous enthusiasm for wrestling, which features in many of his books. Knowing the sport so well, Irving said he was able to use it as a detail to better tell his stories. But, he added, “this is the first time that we have seen wresting and wrestlers from a homoerotic point of view”. As wrestling consists of grunting, bemuscled men sweatily grappling each other to the ground, one wondered: what took him so long?