The curse of a mild outlook

The Last Straw: A wise old newspaper publisher once said: "Comment is free but facts are sacred

The Last Straw: A wise old newspaper publisher once said: "Comment is free but facts are sacred." That was in 1926 and, thankfully, the wages of comment writers have improved a bit since. But the comment option is still almost as cost-efficient as that shrewd old publisher realised, and consequently is more in demand than ever.

Facts remain journalism's gold standard, of course, but opinion is hard currency, especially for the many newspaper people who regularly appear on TV and radio talk-shows. And yet, for every journalist blessed with fiercely held views on all subjects including the weather, there are many of us cursed with a mild outlook. The social stigma this entails in the profession is such that we have to cover up by pretending to be opinionated. But if you're one of us, your greatest nightmare is to find yourself on Questions and Answers some night, faced with a topic on which you have no opinion whatsoever.

In the nightmare, John Bowman introduces the programme, which this week comes from Termonfeckin. Then he invites the first question from Joe Bloggs who, reading from a note, says: "In view of the recent media reports, I'd like to ask the panel why the chicken crossed the road."

For some reason you have had no prior notice of this topic. Luckily, however, Bowman turns first to the Fianna Fáil TD.

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Fianna Fail TD: "Well, we have to remember that for the moment, these are only allegations. Mr Dunlop has made certain claims, but we still have to hear evidence from the chicken. And until we do, we should not rush to judgment on why, or indeed whether, any roads were crossed. I would also point out that the chicken is no longer a member of the parliamentary party, so this is not an issue for the government. But even if the chicken did change sides, road-wise, on the basis of Mr Dunlop's initiative, a key question for the tribunal is whether it laid any eggs."

Breathing deeply, you have now formed a holding response that will do if you can't think of something better. But first it's the turn of the Green Party TD.

Green TD: "I think the question is a symptom of our obsession with road-based transport. This year alone, we're spending €1.5 zillion on the national roads programme. So it was inevitable that, whichever way the chicken went, he was going to have to cross a road, if not a four-lane motorway. It's just a miracle he made it in one piece, and that he wasn't hit by a ministerial Merc travelling at 90 miles per hour. But even aside from the issue of the damage being done to chicken habitats, we should now be focusing on public transport, so that we can all make the crossing from this road-based mindset . . ."

Damn, you think - you were going to use that line about the Merc. Cold sweat is starting to form on your brow. But there's still time, because next up is the Sinn Féin spokesman.

SF spokesman: "I think that before you ask why any member of the poultry movement resorted to the ambulatory option, you have to consider conditions on our side of the road when all this started in 1969."

You heave a sigh of relief. Now you can use the standard comment about how thankful we should be to the SDLP for establishing the road-map that allowed the chicken community to cross, and so on. Then, to your horror, Bowman interjects with the same point, and the Sinn Féiner generously concedes that John Hume is a saint. You're panicking now, but there's still time, because the next person to respond is the panel's other journalist. Maybe he'll screw up and take the pressure off. Instead:

Other journalist: "And that's why, rather than asking why it crossed the road, we should be applauding the chicken for having the courage to do something, while this ostrich-like government disappeared head-first into the quicksand!" (Resounding audience applause.)

Your despair is almost total when, somewhere out of the depths, a brilliant idea forms. Not only does it answer, once and for all, the question of why the chicken crossed the road, it does so with a combination of elegance and wit not seen together since the death of Oscar Wilde. The pressure evaporates and a smile plays on your lips as you mentally arrange the words. And then John Bowman says: "OK, I think that's enough about why the chicken crossed the road - if indeed it did. But before we take a commercial break, I want to bring in Frank McNally. Briefly, Frank, where does the chicken go from here?"