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Barely a month into his talkshow, Oliver Callan’s nearly asleep at the wheel

The presenter’s RTÉ Radio 1 morning show is beginning to follow a definite pattern, though at this early stage it’s hard to say if it’s a groove or a rut

As if enough alarm bells aren’t already going off across RTÉ, it now appears that Oliver Callan (RTÉ Radio 1, weekdays) needs a wake-up call. As in, he literally needs something to rouse him from his slumber.

“I just about got here on time this morning,” he confesses to listeners on Tuesday’s show, sheepishly explaining how a dead phone and being “home alone” caused his near miss. No wonder he sounds chastened: he has been helming his own talkshow for barely a month, and already he’s nearly fallen asleep at the wheel. For all his public embarrassment – and he deserves credit for his honesty, if not punctuality – the impressionist turned presenter attempts to put a positive spin on the incident. “I suppose it’s a sign of settling into a new job,” he gamely ventures. Possibly.

Whatever about Callan himself, his programme is beginning to follow a definite pattern, though at this early stage it’s hard to say if it’s a groove or a rut. His opening monologue swings between prosaic news, such as the progress of GAA players trying out for American-football teams, and acerbic asides, as when he ridicules the ability of Oireachtas committees to solve the mess at RTÉ: “It’s like asking the Burke family of Mayo for tips on organising a silent protest.” (Unsurprisingly for a man who enjoys a lie-in, Callan has no time with being woke.) His skill as a mimic adds a dimension to the obligatory showbiz gossip, his wicked impersonation of the pop impresario Louis Walsh elevating a riff on Celebrity Big Brother. It’s more irreverent than the departed Ryan Tubridy’s encomiums to common sense and creamy pints, if hardly insurrectionary stuff.

Callan’s main items are less arresting, however, though the items have merit individually. Wednesday’s discussion on reforestation with Randal Plunkett, owner of the historic Dunsany estate in Co Meath, covers the benefits of arboreal planting and the unimportance of his noble status as a baron: “In a republic it’s not really relevant.” But taken with Tuesday’s discussion of legal programmes for transition-year students, the cumulative effect is one of sturdiness rather than excitement, exacerbated by Callan’s occasionally dutiful air during interviews.

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If he’s less sure-footed in his new morning-show role, there’s still time for him to hit his stride. For now, however, Callan is still bedding in

The host hasn’t lost his mojo. His satirical comedy show, Callan’s Kicks (RTÉ Radio 1, Friday), which returned to the airwaves last month, is as gabbily enjoyable as ever. While not as sharply skewering as he could be, Callan mocks the rural populism of Mattie McGrath and the ideological jargon of People Before Profit TDs with giddy aplomb, and scores a palpable hit in his deconstruction of Government ads for the family and care referendums. (Notably, Callan’s Kicks will not be broadcast on polling day.) If he’s less sure-footed in his new morning-show role, there’s still time for him to hit his stride. For now, however, Callan is still bedding in.

There have been times on The Ray D’Arcy Show (RTÉ Radio 1, weekdays) when the host might have been better taking a long afternoon nap instead. But D’Arcy is in better form at the moment, buoyed by a varied cast of guests. On Wednesday, for instance, he’s joined by the former Republic of Ireland soccer manager Brian Kerr, the singer Johnny McEvoy and the former newscaster Anne Doyle. While the presenter’s description of these luminaries as “three legends” might be a stretch, it’s an incandescently stellar line-up compared with Callan’s morning menu. With Tubridy gone, D’Arcy seems to have cornered the market in septuagenarian celeb appearances on Radio 1 chatshows.

More crucially, the interviews are worth listening to. Kerr has a lugubrious mien as he reflects on being ousted from the managerial post in 2005: “It was hurtful enough to be cut off, but that’s life.” Doyle is as knowingly witty as in previous encounters with D’Arcy, adopting the world-weary attitude of a former employee as she contemplates the RTÉ crisis: “This place has lived through many vicissitudes.”

D’Arcy’s conversation with McEvoy is the most moving. The veteran singer speaks about his life and music in a deceptively easy-going way, frankly recalling his experiences of quitting drink and “the old depression”: “Unlike most other illnesses, people don’t want to talk about it.” He also fondly remembers his late wife, Odette, in quietly moving fashion. “Music saved my life, definitely,” he concludes. D’Arcy, in turn, is energised by his guest’s presence, as well as by the songs he performs in the studio: “I could hang out with you forever.”

These aren’t the only highlights. On Tuesday the fiddle player Steve Wickham recounts anecdotes from throughout his career in the folk and rock worlds, an interesting item even for those of us who aren’t big fans of his band The Waterboys. Nor are D’Arcy’s stimulating segments confined to celebrities. On Tuesday he invites the producer Zoe Comyns to talk about her Lyric FM documentary on Kate Meyrick, an Irishwoman who scandalously reigned over 1920s London nightlife.

So it’s a good week for D’Arcy. At this stage his affectedly casual style won’t win over many doubters, but when conditions are right the host’s radio chops shine through

It’s an irresistible subject, and, sure enough, Comyns’s programme, The Lyric Feature: Queen of Nightclubs (Sunday) tells a rollicking and fascinating story about a Dublin-born, well-bred mother of eight who, having separated from her abusive husband, ran a series of West End venues famous for their colourful clientele and plentiful vice: Meyrick was imprisoned several times, which eventually contributed to her demise. D’Arcy does his audience a favour by drawing attention to this evocative documentary’s post-transmission availability on the Lyric site.

So it’s a good week for D’Arcy. At this stage his affectedly casual style won’t win over many doubters, but when conditions are right the host’s radio chops shine through. “Anne Doyle, we have to go,” he says to the erstwhile newscaster as he wraps up on Wednesday. “And you know about timekeeping, being a former member of staff here.” Maybe they could give Callan some tips.

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