As host of Lunchtime Live (Newstalk, weekdays), Andrea Gilligan isn’t afraid of exploring difficult issues, but when it comes to certain subjects she doesn’t always ask the hard questions. On Wednesday, when digesting the news that her home county of Donegal has been named by Lonely Planet, the travel-guide company, one of the best places in the world to visit, Gilligan forgoes any semblance of rigour, or indeed objectivity.
“What makes Donegal stand ahead of other counties?” she fearlessly asks the TikTok comedian and county compatriot Eric Roberts. The uncompromising tone set, the item that follows is so boosterish as to make even the fluffiest Miriam O’Callaghan interview sound like a KGB interrogation. Gilligan and her guests extol the virtues of the county almost giddily, while admitting that it’s comparatively neglected as a tourist destination: the host remarks that visiting friends always seem surprised at how beautiful Donegal is. (And make no mistake, it is.)
Gilligan’s joy is unsurprising. She often speaks about her native county, not least during her poignant coverage of last year’s tragic gas explosion in Creeslough. Her chat about Donegal’s inclusion on the (slightly random) list may be unabashedly celebratory rather than analytical, but it’s hard to begrudge the good cheer that pervades proceedings. It certainly gives the show a welcome lift.
That’s not to say the rest of Lunchtime Live’s content is bleak. Indeed, some of Gilligan’s most absorbing items deal with downbeat themes, with discussions about the traumatic legacy of parental problem drinking and the impact of Yousef Poulani’s homophobic murder of two Sligo men on the local LGBTQ community. But it’s when the host turns to less urgent topics that things run out of steam.
For instance, asking listeners whether the long-delayed Dublin Metrolink should be axed seems less like public-spirited debate than slightly desperate filler. It doesn’t help that most callers favour the project, while pessimistic about it ever happening. It’s all a bit halfhearted, with the hoped-for contretemps failing to materialise, much like Metrolink itself.
It’s to Gilligan’s credit, or perhaps detriment, that she doesn’t slavishly try to stir la merde. The host prefers an air of affable common sense, while hinting at another side: when a listener texts about the “easy-going nature” of Donegal people, she comments, “If you knew me, you’d know I’m anything but easy-going.” Either way, her approach is more friendly inquiry than wilful baiting.
Still, Gilligan needs to stay alert. When a caller bemoans the number of joggers before this weekend’s Dublin Marathon, the host sounds incredulous: “You must be the first person I’ve heard to complain about too many runners.” But she nonetheless endeavours to keep the conversation going. Cue her next caller, Derek, who after a dramatic opening proclamation – “All that matters is the facts and truth” – goes spectacularly off-piste, citing a magazine article about historical sexual abuse in a south Dublin school. The host sounds momentarily flummoxed – “I don’t know what and where you’re talking about” – before politely showing her caller the door. It’s a rare moment of drama in a meandering show. Gilligan might not pose the toughest questions, but she knows how to dodge a bullet.
‘All the people you’re obliterating won’t be very happy,’ Kieran Cuddihy tells Israeli government spokesman Lior Haiat
Over on The Hard Shoulder (Newstalk, weekdays), Kieran Cuddihy doesn’t duck uncomfortable encounters when covering the ongoing carnage in Gaza, as underlined by Wednesday’s charged interview with Israeli government spokesman Lior Haiat. Asked about Israel’s intention to invade the increasingly devastated Palestinian enclave, Cuddihy’s guest replies by cataloguing the atrocities committed against Israeli civilians during the Hamas attacks.
His voice raised and trembling, Haiat is understandably distraught by Hamas’s bloody rampage – he deems it the worst massacre of Jews since the Holocaust, speaking to the genocidal memories that run deep in Israel – but seems unable to extend empathy to Palestinian civilians killed by relentless Israeli bombing. “We had to defend ourselves against a terrorist organisation that are worse than Isis. They are animals,” he says. The coda he adds – “We wish the best for the people of Gaza, really” – sounds hollow.
Cuddihy is dubious. “All the people you’re obliterating won’t be very happy,” the host comments sardonically. Likewise, when Haiat answers a question about proportional response furiously – “Should we go into Gaza and rape 200 people?” – the host wonders if there’s an “upper limit to the number of civilians you slaughter”. But for all the emotion, Cuddihy maintains his professional mien. When Haiat claims that Hamas exaggerates the number of casualties, the host notes that he hasn’t quoted such figures.
Still, Cuddihy sounds relieved when his interview ends. Depending on how one perceives the Rorschach test of the bloodily intractable situation, the item can be a snapshot of Israeli grief or callousness – or maybe both. Either way, it’s hard to be optimistic after Cuddihy’s fraught confrontation.
Those seeking respite might find solace in The Lyric Feature: Magic on a Winter’s Night (RTÉ Lyric FM, Sunday), which follows performers and staff as they prepare for the opening night of last year’s Wexford Festival Opera. The documentary, narrated by Mary Brophy, is a series of observational snapshots. But with its cast of enthusiastic young sopranos, wryly experienced singers, phlegmatic stage managers and intense maestros, the programme gradually draws the listener into an art form that can often seem forbiddingly elitist.
Made to coincide with this year’s festival – whose opening production is broadcast live on Opera Night with Paul Herriott (RTÉ Lyric FM, Tuesday), and the merits of which I will leave to those of more refined tastes to decide – it’s a quietly beguiling documentary whose range of Irish and international voices underline the unique appeal and intimate scale of the event. Local yet cosmopolitan, the Wexford festival punches above its weight. Donegal isn’t the only place in Ireland making its mark on the world stage.
