Under cover of flimsy filler, Ray D’Arcy gets political

As if we didn’t have enough on our plates already, Ray D’Arcy (RTÉ Radio 1, weekdays) urgently wants to bring another contentious issue to our attention. “This is really important,” the presenter declares, “Would you allow anyone else to pour gravy on your dinner?”

D’Arcy is pondering this moral conundrum on foot of survey findings that 81 per cent of people think it wrong to add said sauce to someone else’s food. (He doesn’t cite provenance of this poll, but it sounds like something commissioned by the shadowy forces of big gravy.) Either way, D’Arcy shares the majority opinion on this hot – or at least warm – topic.

“We all have our little idiosyncrasies when it comes to gravy,” suggests the host, whose particular eccentricity appears to be an inability to stop talking about it. Do you serve it in large quantities or small, on the meat or the vegetables (“I’m a potatoes man”), poured or ladled? And still the list of variables goes on: “There’s another thing: do you like it water-like or do you like it thick?”

Whatever about the optimum viscosity of your Sunday roast accompaniment, in radio terms this is thin gruel indeed. True, D’Arcy approaches the subject with barely suppressed amusement, but coming between his musings on the wearing of sandals and his rhapsodising on the eating of eclairs, it’s almost parodic in its inanity and faux-quirkiness.

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Under cover of flimsy filler, Ray D’Arcy gets political

Still, one can’t help wondering if there’s an ulterior motive to such flimsy filler. For one thing, the daily parade of quotidian trivia gives D’Arcy cover to voice personal opinions that would be discouraged in the newsier quarters of Montrose.

On Tuesday, he talks with palpable fervour about teenage activist Cara Darmody‘s 50-hour Dáil protest over delays in the assessment of needs for autistic children, laying out the system’s failings in clear manner. While speaking admiringly of Darmody, he vents his feelings on the matter. “It’s embarrassing, isn’t it?” he sighs. “We’re told constantly we’re a well-off country, yet by the end of the year, there’ll be 25,000 families awaiting assessment of needs.”

Admittedly, this is hardly Martin Luther King-level oratory. But it indicates the relative freedom D’Arcy is afforded to hold forth on political issues, if only because any controversial impact is likely to be softened by the bathos of accompanying anecdotes about his golden retriever being terrorised by magpies. (The same rule appears to his Radio 1 colleague Oliver Callan, whose ostensibly jokey morning show riffs are regularly spiked with acid opinions.) D’Arcy doesn’t exercise this de facto right very often, but then a monologue of earnest editorialising might be pouring it on thick.

Meanwhile, the host shows how adept he is with lightweight subjects during his conversation with ex-boxer Bernard Dunne. A former world super bantamweight champion, Dunne is a thoughtful guest, and open too: “I was lost,” he says of the immediate aftermath of his retirement from the ring.

In turn, D’Arcy is attuned to the psychological nuances of Dunne’s career and references another of his signature themes, physical fitness, when bemoaning the decline of “movement literacy” among young people. It’s an intriguing encounter, proving that when he has the right material, D’Arcy can serve up food for thought.

Dunne is on D’Arcy’s show to promote his own programme, Dunne Talking (RTÉ Radio 1, Sunday), which features him interviewing various sporting figures to “explore what it takes to succeed not just at sport, but in life”.

Having spoken to Olympic gold-winning boxer Kellie Harrington as his inaugural guest, Dunne meets former Irish international footballer Niall Quinn for the second episode of the eight-part series. While their conversation certainly covers Quinn’s successes, from scoring for the Republic of Ireland during Italia 90 to his spells as striker for Manchester City and Sunderland, Dunne is more interested in how his guest dealt with his setbacks, as he seeks to discover “the pressure, the doubt, the determination” that drives top athletes.

Quinn doesn’t flinch from revealing past challenges and failures. Articulate and candid, he recalls being bluntly told by an English manager that he’d never be a footballer when he was only a young teen, and telling another manager to go forth and multiply at the end of his playing career. Dunne, for his part, remains focused on Quinn’s mindset, asking how he coped with testing moments such as the knee injury that ruled him out of the 1994 World Cup: “Where were you psychologically?” (“Not great,” comes the doleful reply.)

As a fellow sportsman who struggled with the transition to everyday life after hanging up his gloves, Dunne can relate to his guest’s recollection of the “darkness” he felt after retiring from soccer: “It was just an awful time, I wasn’t ready for quitting.” All in all, it’s a captivating interview, as much about mental health and personal resilience as sporting achievements. Like the host himself, Dunne’s show is engaging and reflective, but also packs a punch.

Over on The Hard Shoulder (Newstalk, weekdays), Kieran Cuddihy is determined to keep the spotlight on Cara Darmody’s picket of Leinster House, with the host meeting the 14-year-old as she camps out in what she dubs “the dirty, cold, damp, leafy streets of Dublin”. Cara explains that her demonstration is motivated by the experience of living with two severely autistic brothers – “It’s very hard for me to see them struggle every day” – and by her anger at the broken promises of three previous taoisigh on reducing the assessment of needs waiting list. “They’re not going to want to hear it, but they’re lawbreakers,” she says.

Cara is referring to the Government’s failure to fulfil their obligation to provide assessments within six months under the Disability Act, which Cuddihy sourly notes is 20 years old. And while the formidable young protester is unceasingly principled and determined, her father, Mark, sounds more jaundiced. “They keep spitting out what they need to do, but they never actually do it,” he says of the successive leaders who have dragged their feet on the matter. One fears he’s right: unlike the gravy boat, the gravy train isn’t always shared with others.

Moment of the Week

Always one for unusual insights, Seán Moncrieff (Newstalk, weekdays) shares a novel tip for anyone seeking domestic harmony and, more importantly, a fragrant home. “A fart walk is highly recommended by those who know about these things,” he states, before hearing dietitian Orla Walsh extol the benefits of a post-prandial stroll in the evening, when the digestive system is at its most sluggish. “You want your gut moving,” Walsh says delicately, “A little bit of a walk after dinner will help things along.” Quite. She also shares a striking statistic: “Generally, people fart 14 times a day.” Turns out we’re all windbags.