RADIO REVIEW:IT WAS CLEAR from the first few moments of Documentary On One: One Hundred Years Of Names(RTÉ Radio One, Saturday) that this was about more than letters on birth certificates. An African mother in the Rotunda Hospital sang to her baby, "Thank you, father, you are holy . . ." She named him Victory: "He will conquer everything he desires and will want to become." A proud Romanian father said, "My father is Constantine, I am Constantine and he will be Constantine."
“Once chosen, your name is indelible, like a birthmark almost,” producer Sarah Binchy said. “Your name reflects your parents’ desires for the person you will be. The things they think are important, the life they expect you to lead.” Binchy rifled through the files of the Central Statistics Office, roll books of Cross Keys National School in Cavan and the National Archives. The real Irish names started in earnest only in the 1930s. According to the 1911 Census there were only two Sinéads in Dublin, and one of them was Sinéad de Valera, likely born Jane. There were 1,093 people called Cornelius, a grand and popular Munster name.
Fergal, a Gaelscoil teacher, and his Australian wife Christine, decided on Dashiel. “I did fight for quite a while for Beckett,” Christine said, “but Fergal painted a scenario of us standing in the playground. ‘Beckett, come in off the swings now!’” A close call.
“The contradictions are endless,” Binchy said. “Ancient Irish names for children whose parents may well not speak Irish themselves. Names children will spend their lives spelling out in service of a sense of difference and authenticity. Pop star names for children whose lives may not be that glamorous. Names from the bible for non-believers.”
This was an eloquent reflection on our search for identity amid phenomenal social change, and showed at least one way we pass onto our children our most precious aspirations.
British prime minister Gordon Brown may yet see ambitions dashed, despite putting a brave face on it. Brian O'Connell on World Report(RTÉ Radio One, Saturday) said, "How the prime minister smiles is a bit like the axe-wielding Jack Nicholson during that 'Here's Johnny!' moment in the movie The Shining." O'Connell had some advice for him: "When he decides where he intends to swing his budgetary axe he should certainly not smile when he announces it."
Still smiling, Nicholas Parsons returned with a new season of Just A Minute(BBC Radio 4, Monday) with panelists Sue Perkins, Pam Ayres, Tony Hawks and Tim Rice. One must speak for 60 seconds on a subject without hesitation, repetition or deviation. Ayres spoke on Mother Nature. Listen to it online. Parsons already declared her riff a classic. It will cheer you up no end, if you need cheering.
Something that won't: Wednesday's McGurk On Four(4FM, weekdays). Tom McGurk spoke to, at and over Susan McKay, director of the National Women's Council of Ireland. More women in government, she said, would help represent the interests of women and society as a whole. It wasn't that difficult a point to grasp, but McGurk was "mystified". McKay pointed out that 13 per cent of decision-makers in the Dáil are women and, in the local elections, 16 per cent of those elected were women. "I honestly don't understand this. Are you suggesting that if half the Dáil was female and half was male we'd be better off?" McGurk asked. "I think you're living somewhere like 1974."
“It’s just as well it wasn’t a male politician who got rid of the cervical cancer vaccine, wasn’t it?” he later added.
After a time, McKay told McGurk his interruptions were "very tiresome". He replied, "Oh, I'm sorry. I'll give you 30 seconds to say what you want to say." He then said he'd let her have one minute. (Would the rules of Just A Minuteapply?)
“What I want to say I’ve already said but unfortunately it may have been very difficult for the listeners to hear it because you talked over practically every single thing that I said, which you probably think is a very provocative and interesting way of doing an interview, but I don’t think so at all.”
“That’s because I’m a man, is it?” McGurk said, showing that he would end as he had begun. McKay replied, “It may be or it just may be that you’re a particularly rude man.”
One of them was living in 1974, but it sure as hell wasn’t Susan McKay.
qfottrell@irishtimes.com