RADIO REVIEW:HE HAS been the unsung hero of RTÉ, always asking the tough questions, analysing breaking news, and explaining the complex workings of Government and economics to listeners in language that is easy to understand.
Never one to shy away from confrontation, he was at the centre of a political storm involving Fine Gael and the forthcoming Dublin South by-election on June 5th. Yes, Seán O'Rourke was giving it socks again on Tuesday's News At One (RTÉ Radio One, weekdays). This time, he was having a right old argy-bargy with the now former economics editor George Lee, who is putting himself forward in that by-election.
O’Rourke asked if Lee should have informed RTÉ earlier of his decision. Didn’t they have a right to know? “Until this weekend there was nothing to know, Seán. I had not made up my mind. I know my mind. I know my character and I know my personality, and I don’t need you or anybody else in RTÉ to tell me what my future is,” Lee said.
He is a bit of a legend these days too, but not of the unsung variety.
O’Rourke asked, “Among the qualities required for people in politics are thick skins. How do you stand on that one?” Lee said he’d need one listening to O’Rourke’s questions, but said his skin was thick, adding, “Perhaps it will get a little bit thicker in the years ahead.”
Another cultish figure, Joe Duffy, is back after three weeks' sick leave. On Tuesday's Liveline(RTÉ Radio One, weekdays), Duffy hit the ground running and tried peeling a layer or two off his former colleague. Did Lee favour a tax on children's allowance? He said no. So, would he leave Fine Gael if they did tax it? "It's a very hypothetical question," Lee said. He was beginning to sound like a politician already.
Duffy asked if he was ever a member of any political party or ever canvassed for anyone. “Never,” Lee replied. He said he made a “massive personal sacrifice” and warned that he could still end up back in RTÉ “licking stamps”.
George Hook on Wednesday's The Right Hook(Newstalk, weekdays) summed up Lee's predicament as a case of his children posing the question: "Daddy, what did you do in the recession?" Answer: pay €1 for two clear plastic bags for carry-on liquids in Dublin Airport. (Try that with a bottle of Rogaine . . .) Bizarrely, this was one of the biggest recessionary stories of the week, especially as Ryanair weighed in with all the grace of a wingless fairy with a toothache. Many texters were unhappy to pay, but I wondered if they would happily shell out €50 for a round in the airport bar afterwards.
Businessman Ulick McEvaddy, who would like to build a terminal near Dublin Airport, was not impressed. “We need competition at Dublin Airport,” he said, which explains the real reason why this silly story took off. Hook said he uses nifty sandwich bags to carry his toiletries, which is actually a good idea. Aviation journalist Gerry Byrne said, “I’m a man and I don’t know what makeup or whatever Ulick McEvaddy carries around with him. I don’t need a bag . . . Being a man I suppose I’ll arouse the ire of the women of Ireland.” I doubt he aroused anyone’s ire, but surely even the manliest of men need deodorant and toothpaste.
There were more serious matters of etiquette in Fiona Kelcher's adaptation of JM Barrie's 1902 classic stage play The Admirable Crichton(BBC Radio 4, Saturday). It was given the creaky am-dram BBC treatment, opening with the sound of hooves on gravel. An aristocratic family, headed by the liberal Lord Loam (David Timson), was shipwrecked on a desert island. Crichton (Russell Tovey), their snobbish butler, became their able leader on the island and was soon used to his kingly status among his former employers.
Lord Loam’s daughter Lady Mary (Beth Chalmers) fell in love with Crichton, but they were rescued by a passing ship before they could marry.
Once back in England, the family lived in fear of Crichton revealing to the world that they took their orders from him on the island, especially as they believed that their one-time faithful servant was virtually incapable of telling a lie. “While he is here, we are sitting on a volcano,” said Lord Loam, who by then was flirting with the idea of turning from Liberal to Tory.
Lord Loam could change political horses without much pressure from his peers, but poor Crichton could not so easily change workhorses, and had to return to his previous life as a butler. Which is still a lot better than licking stamps in RTÉ, I suppose.
qfottrell@irishtimes.com