Radio: Pat Kenny – formidable on the one hand, a bit like Alan Partridge on the other

Tuning into The Pat Kenny Show (Newstalk, weekdays) last week, one could be forgiven for worrying if some awful fate was about to befall the host. After all, talk about coping with "life after Pat" carries an air of foreboding, as though Kenny has heard he's being moved to the graveyard shift or some such grim news.

As it turns out, he's talking to former EastEnders actor Pam St Clement about her deceased on-screen character Pat Butcher. But relief at Kenny's well-being is tempered by the sinking feeling that increasingly accompanies his show.

After 18 months at the helm of his Newstalk programme, the cracks are beginning to show. With only half the listenership that he enjoyed (and that his rival Seán O'Rourke still enjoys) in his old RTÉ slot, Kenny's pulling power seems diminished.

That an autopilot celebrity interview with a sometime British soap star passes for his stellar attraction only underlines this impression, although the encounter is enlivened by the slightly disturbing images it throws up. “I find it very odd calling you Pat and you haven’t got earrings on,” St Clement remarks at one point; thankfully she’s referring to her character’s sartorial trademark rather than some hitherto unknown peccadillo of Kenny’s.

The lack of spark is best illustrated by the preponderance of unimaginatively pitched lifestyle items that clog the programme. An upsurge in rodent activity in Dublin is tackled through an interview with the owner of a pest control company, which despite its icky subject has all the bite and verve of a corporate infomercial.

The question of overprotective parenting is examined in a well-meaning but vague interview with author Stella O’Malley. Kenny’s guest advocates a middle course between the unsympathetic “underparenting” of old and contemporary “overparenting”, which she says leads to sheltered children ill-prepared for real life.

All very well, but O’Malley is short on detail, beyond saying that parents’ fear of strangers abducting their offspring is basically unfounded, as though this was the main reason for children supposedly being so indulged today.

Faced with such uninspiring fare, Kenny calls on his flair for the clunkily dramatic aside. He discusses how most child abductions are by relatives, “in the sanctity and safety of the family home”. Talking about rodents, he ponders the “hypocrisy” that deems it okay to kill rats, but not “cute” rabbits. When he hears how glue traps are no longer used to catch rats, Kenny chirpily provides his own illustration of their cruelty.

“They would go mad and bite their own limbs off,” he says, once again combining morbid fascination and unconcealed glee in a manner unnervingly redolent of his oft-cited fictional peer, Alan Partridge.

Kenny still retains formidable radio gifts. His breadth of knowledge is as impressive as ever (if habitually articulated), as during the illuminating conversation with regular science contributor Prof Luke O’Neill about his potentially breakthrough treatment for degenerative diseases. But Kenny’s new life on Newstalk seems to yield fewer and fewer such moments.

There's a familiar ring to Tuesday's Liveline (RTÉ Radio 1, weekdays) as Joe Duffy discusses Donegal Day, a student phenomenon that occurs, confusingly enough, in Galway. In truth, it's more like Groundhog Day, as the event – involving students from Donegal boozing all day at a designated pub – provides another opportunity for yet more hand-wringing about Ireland's binge-drinking culture.

Hearing about large queues of students formed outside the bar, Fergus Finlay of Barnardos repeatedly predicts that “people are going to get hurt before this day is out” and wonders “why it is impossible for us to enjoy anything without far too much drink?” These are valid and even urgent concerns, but the way they are pitched ensure the item is an exercise in futility.

Finlay’s agonised but paternal tone – which even he concedes may sound preachy – is unlikely to make an impact on his intended audience of wayward students, especially when accompanied by admissions that he sometimes drank too much when younger. Meanwhile, reprimanding such a booze-up by giving it lavish coverage seems akin to parents cautioning children not to stick peas up their noses.

Even as he elicits prophecies of imminent societal collapse, Duffy is aware there is an air of déjà vu to all this. When one caller says people need to recognise the impact drinking has on emergency services, the host sounds anguished. “How many more TV documentaries do you want of people puking in back of Dublin Fire Brigade ambulances?” he wails, while tactfully gliding over any analogous notions about radio programmes on the same topic.

Just how ineffective all this tut-tutting is becomes clear when Duffy hears from John, a Galway student who plays down the perils of Donegal Day. There is very little hassle at the event, he says, claiming far more trouble occurs over the week of the Galway Races. But John’s blithe attitude to alcohol consumption is also striking, his matter-of-fact tone suggesting that far from being unduly bothered by such behaviour, he is a willing participant.

He speaks of many days being “a complete piss-up” and describes February as “the designated month for drinking”, the latter statement prompting incredulity on Duffy’s part: “You’re having me on.”

That Duffy can still sound surprised at a guest revealing a fondness for drink is a tribute to broadcasting skills, if nothing else.

Moment of the Week: Reilly’s Mandy Rice-Davies moment

On Tuesday Minister for Children James Reilly talks to Jonathan Clinch on News at One (RTÉ Radio 1, weekdays) about the plans of the tobacco company JTI Ireland to take legal action if the Government proceeds with legislation for plain cigarette packaging. The Minister, a medical doctor, sounds unbothered, even blasé. When Clinch says that JTI claims the legislation breaks EU market rules, Reilly coolly invokes Mandy Rice-Davies's memorable courtroom rebuff to a minister's denial that they had an affair. "Well, they would assert that, wouldn't they?" says Reilly, with casual contempt. It may be 50 years since the original quote, but it still has a withering effect.

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