Newstalk’s Kieran Cuddihy a psychopath? He’s far too easygoing and disarmingly informal

For someone who’s just discovered he could be a psychopath, Kieran Cuddihy is worryingly calm. “Interesting. In-ter-esting,” Cuddihy says, perhaps a touch too coolly, on learning that radio is among the professions deemed to have the highest proportion of psychopaths, as is his former occupation of solicitor. But while the host of The Hard Shoulder (Newstalk, weekdays) doesn’t sound unduly perturbed at this revelation, he seems unlikely to follow Hannibal Lecter in breaking out the Chianti and fava beans to accompany specialist offal delicacies.

For one thing, as clinical psychologist Dr Tara Logan Buckley informs Cuddihy on Tuesday’s show, psychopathy isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Indeed, some traits associated with the condition – fearlessness, confidence, focus – can be assets in roles that require dispassionate decisiveness, from surgeon and pilot to army sharpshooter. “What you’re saying is, I’d make a great sniper,” the host remarks.

Cuddihy is surely too easygoing a personality to qualify for psychopathic status. He doesn’t want for self-assurance or frankly expressed views, but he brings a disarmingly informal and even empathetic approach to everything from lifestyle items to political discussions. There’s certainly an air of indulgent amusement when the host hears of roving reporter Henry McKean’s visit to Belfast on Monday, following the EU-UK agreement on the Northern Ireland Protocol.

Seeking to gauge local opinion on the Windsor Framework, the reliably intrepid McKean ventures into a pub on the loyalist Sandy Row, where the views are as subtly articulated as one might expect in such a convivially partisan setting. “We’re Northern Ireland, we’re British,” says one punter, rejecting the deal. “We went this far, we won’t turn back.” Others are less doctrinaire. When McKean asks another man for his thoughts on the possibility of a Sinn Féin first minister, his reply is almost philosophical: “There’s peace over here now, that’s all we’re looking forward to, is staying peaceful.”

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[ Dublin wonders if the DUP can say yes to anything ]

By way of parity of esteem, Cuddihy discusses the new agreement with GAA pundit and former player Joe Brolly, who brings his trademark tact. Comparing the DUP’s credo to that of the Groucho Marx song, Whatever It Is, I’m Against It, Brolly thinks diehard unionists will reject the deal to avoid a return to powersharing: “The problem is a DUP leader serving under a Fenian.” He makes some salient points, but Brolly’s attitude is largely one of scornful mockery. Then again, Brolly is there less for his illuminating qualities than his incendiary instincts. Cuddihy seems to enjoy his guest’s merry evisceration of DUP mores, but is less upbeat about the seemingly immutable intransigence of the situation. “It’s kind of dispiriting,” the host says glumly. Quite. And this, it’s worth remembering, about a good-news story for the North.

In contrast, Cuddihy’s interviews with Education Minister Norma Foley and new Social Democrats leader Holly Cairns are positively considered affairs, though both interesting in different ways. Explaining the Government’s decision to shelve plans for fifth year Leaving Cert exams in English and Irish, Foley is blandly imperturbable as the host attempts to blame the deferral on the inflexibility of teachers’ unions: “Were the school to propose painting the skirting board a different shade of white, the union would say no to it,” he mischievously suggests, though the minister refuses to take the bait.

Cuddihy largely stands off throughout, almost as if on a courtesy call, allowing Cairns the time to lay out her aspirations. One senses the host might go up a couple of gears the next time they meet

Cuddihy is in more generous form talking to Cairns, who outlines her ambitions for the Social Democrats under her leadership. She states her aim to grow the party by appealing to voters as “disillusioned and hopeless” as she was before turning to politics only five years ago. “The tide is turning in Irish politics,” she says, already showing a seasoned campaigner’s comfort with cliche. That said, Cairns comes across as idealistic yet grounded, only waffling when asked to outline what differentiates the Social Democrats from Labour – she settles on “trust” – and Sinn Féin, which she chides for being soft on climate policy, not that party’s most obvious weak spot.

Cuddihy largely stands off throughout, almost as if on a courtesy call, allowing Cairns the time to lay out her aspirations. One senses the host might go up a couple of gears the next time they meet on the airwaves. For all his wryly affable demeanour, Cuddihy can snipe at targets when the mood takes him.

Blokey consensus

A convivial atmosphere suffuses On the Record with Gavan Reilly (Newstalk, Sunday), though in this case a smidgen of discord wouldn’t go amiss. As Reilly reviews the newspapers with security analyst Declan Power and law lecturer Larry Donnelly, there are arresting points of information – Power is worried about Ireland’s intelligence vulnerabilities in the wake of the Ukraine war – but the conversation lacks vim. The host politely listens to his guests, who in turn respectfully hear each other out; the fact that the voices are all male adds to the ambience of blokey consensus.

Reilly’s civilised approach is, of course, commendable: pugilistic arenas don’t really make for conducive Sunday morning listening. Moreover, given his main gig as a political correspondent, he has an admirable commitment to digging for factual detail. It’s probably no coincidence that he sounds especially engaged when discussing the EU-UK negotiations with fellow political journalist George Parker of the Financial Times.

But the show works best when Reilly departs from his steady, soothing style. There are welcome flashes of grit, as when he complains about the Government introducing long-overdue libel reform mainly to stymie Sinn Féin’s litigious instincts. Meanwhile, he’s at his most relaxed during his weekly Hidden Histories slot with the loquacious Donal Fallon, who recounts (“with typical aplomb”, in the host’s words) the controversies surrounding A Clockwork Orange, that infamous fictional fantasy of dystopian psychopathy. Just a small shift in mood makes for an enjoyable item: Reilly should let go a bit more often, but there’s no need to go mad.