As audiences can attest, it’s a zinger of a presidential debate, with Kieran Cuddihy, its moderator, kept busy by opinionated parties swapping testy arguments and contentious claims.
At the very least, Tuesday’s exchanges about the Áras election on The Hard Shoulder (Newstalk, weekdays) are far livelier than the underwhelming affair Cuddihy hosts on Virgin Media TV the night before, when the three presidential candidates meet in a lacklustre encounter.
For whatever Cuddihy’s radio discussion with the businessman Declan Ganley and Senator Gerard Craughwell may lack in nuance and policy, it makes up for in combativeness and controversy.
Ganley, following the unsuccessful presidential bid of his fellow conservative activist Maria Steen, urges would-be supporters to spoil their votes in protest at the supposed political uniformity of the “curated set of candidates”. Writing Steen’s name on the ballot paper or highlighting an issue such as, um, “uncontrolled immigration” is, he suggests, a “valid democratic option”.
READ MORE
Craughwell isn’t unsympathetic, agreeing that a cohort of the population may well feel unrepresented by the final field of candidates. But the Senator also emphasises that the three contenders are “democratically selected”; spoiling votes, he says, is a wasted exercise.
The mood turns snappier when Ganley claims all the presidential runners voted yes in last year’s defeated family referendum. “Jim Gavin said he voted no,” Cuddihy points out. “There’s no evidence he voted no,” Ganley replies, “I want proof.”
As the host attempts to explain the near-impossibility of such proof – Ganley seems to forget the concept of the secret ballot – his guest grows ever more indignant, his strident delivery increasingly resembling that of someone addressing a crowd through a loud hailer. But Cuddihy, exasperated, is having none of it: “This is utter nonsense.”
Regarding Steen’s failed bid, Ganley talks of a “concerted effort” to block the run of a “small-c conservative” candidate. (One can only speculate what might constitute a capital-C version.) Craughwell, however, reveals he was only canvassed by Steen’s campaign three days before nominations closed, by WhatsApp message.
Hearing this, the host strikes an incredulous note. “It doesn’t sound like the establishment circling the wagons,” he ventures, “it sounds like ineptitude.”
Whatever it is, it isn’t dull. True, the limitations of the presidential-nomination process go unexamined amid the diverting argy-bargy, but it’s still an enjoyably chunky item.
Cuddihy plays his part: though clearly bemused by some of the more provocative assertions, he doesn’t fall out with his guests, preferring to keep things on track.
Still, it’s hard to keep up that level of energy – and, sure enough, the rest of the show is calmer: though the host goes on to interview several more politicians, actual politics largely take a back seat.
So the former first minister of Scotland Nicola Sturgeon talks about her new memoir – the hot-button issue of transgender women in female prisons, which upended her tenure, is covered in admirably unsensational form – while the Green Party councillor Hazel Chu talks about her breast-cancer diagnosis in darkly humorous terms. “They squeeze the bejaysus out of your breast,” she recalls, adding: “I’m sorry to be so descriptive.”
And as if to prove that he’s as adept at mocking the left as the right, he teases Ivana Bacik, the Labour leader, about her politics.
Appearing on the regular Bookshelf segment, Bacik avidly praises The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists, Robert Tressell’s seminal novel of socialist realism, recalling how it informed her worldview as an undergraduate at Trinity College Dublin: “I was a classic lefty student in the 1980s,” she says. “All students are lefties,” Cuddihy replies, chuckling. “Some of them just grow out of it then. That’s the reality.” When it comes to balanced debate, Cuddihy takes on all sides.
On the face of things, Seán Moncrieff (Newstalk, weekdays) has a keen sense of fairness, approaching each item on his wide-ranging show with the same trademark combination of curious ear and raised eyebrow. But the variety of topics is such that some segments inevitably work better than others, with Moncrieff’s tone shifting accordingly.
So the presenter (who’s also an Irish Times columnist) eschews flippancy for factuality when talking to Prof Scott Lucas, of the Clinton institute at University College Dublin, about the US government shutdown.
Equally, when discussing an academic survey of unexplained – aka paranormal – experiences with Margaret McGrogan of the University of Galway, Moncrieff is sceptical and even dismissive, as when his guest muses on AI’s ability to absorb and synchronise knowledge with real-world effects. “Who’s not to say our brains can do that as well?” she wonders. “Probably most of medical science might say that,” the host replies.
Moncrieff finds a better balance when the subjects blend the idiosyncratic with the scientific, ideally with a side order of bodily functions. Despite its ostensibly saucy premise, his conversation with Helena Tubridy, a fertility coach, on the challenges of “baby-making sex” highlights a sensitive and often-overlooked subject in enjoyable yet grown-up fashion.
Tubridy debunks the notion that being relaxed during sex increases chances of conception – she scolds her host as a “heretic” for raising the question – but does hail the emotional and hormonal benefits for couples with a healthy love life: “You’re actually helping fertility by having decent sex.” It’s an enlightening conversation, and defiantly unsexy too.
There’s little light relief during Moncrieff’s discussion with the neurology professor Colin Doherty about the degenerative brain disease chronic traumatic encephalopathy. The condition, which is only diagnosable after death, is caused by repeated head injuries; it generally affects younger people, with contact sports unsurprisingly an exacerbating factor.
The segment traverses a spectrum of arresting points, from Doherty’s call for a register of sporting head injuries in young people to his wincingly vivid characterisation of fragile cerebral matter: “The brain is not a bouncy object,” he says. “It’s a bit like a peeled tomato: you could pulp it in your hand.” You’ll never look at your Caprese salad the same way again.
Moncrieff, for his part, moves between obvious interest and authentic alarm: “It’s a grim thought,” he concludes. It’s still more fun than a presidential debate.
Moment of the week
It’s only a short item, but Wednesday’s conversation between Oliver Callan (RTÉ Radio 1, weekdays) and Adas Rakauskas is immensely heartening and timely. Adas, who lives in Drogheda, recalls his materially poor childhood in rural Lithuania during the early 1990s, and his delight when he received a Christmas shoebox from Ireland, full of “tiny little treasures”. “It was a gift for me,” as well as for his financially strapped parents.
Now Adas wants re-create the gesture, as part of the Team Hope appeal for Christmas shoeboxes for children in impoverished parts of the world. At a time when Tricolours are being appropriated by anti-immigration extremists as signifiers of exclusion and intimidation, it’s an uplifting reminder of the Irish spirit of generosity towards those less fortunate, as well as the value of the migrant experience.
