RADIO REVIEW:THE PAYROLL and practices of the State sector came under scrutiny last week, as public-service workers robustly defended their terms of employment in the face of criticism from their private-enterprise counterparts. Oh, and trade-union leaders gave their reaction to the Government's public-service reform plan too. But a more vivid collision between the State and commercial sectors occurred on Tuesday, when Marian Finucane appeared on The Ray D'Arcy Show(Today FM, weekdays). If the encounter was anything to go by, Montrose's big names still have a sense of entitlement that puts pampered senior civil servants in the ha'penny place.
It wasn’t that Finucane was particularly discomfited. If anything, D’Arcy seemed to feel the pressure more. Before the interview, the presenter admitted he was nervous about talking to his guest, to the point that it caused him sleeplessness. When Finucane arrived, the host commented on how comfortable she looked. If not exactly deferential, D’Arcy sounded less confident than normal. “You would do more hard-hitting stuff than me,” he said. “I try to talk to people I like, to be honest. Life’s too short. So I like you, Marian.”
Even so, D’Arcy gleaned some interesting glimpses into Finucane’s character. When she said she did not think there was an afterlife, D’Arcy asked if she believed she would ever again see her daughter Sinéad, who died of leukaemia. “I don’t get that sense, no,” she said, matter-of-factly.
Eventually, however, D’Arcy discussed the elephant in the room: his guest’s generous salary, €513,000 in 2009. Finucane said she felt uncomfortable about the fact that her pay was constantly in the spotlight but stressed she had taken three cuts recently. In an interesting aside, D’Arcy inquired if another station had ever tried to poach her (yes), if she was offered more money (yes) and if she ever used this as leverage in RTÉ (no).
Sounding slightly incredulous at the last answer, the host finally tackled his guest head-on: “Whatever way you do the maths on it, it appears to most people out there that you are making too much money,” he said. Finucane was unrepentant, dismissing the notion that her job was confined to four hours of weekly airtime. “That is baloney,” she said. “Hmm, right,” replied D’Arcy, whose own working week spans 15 hours of broadcast time.
It was not a hard-hitting interview, but even in a soft-focus context Finucane sounded prickly.
There was another crossover between the worlds of commercial and public-service broadcasting when the impressionist Mario Rosenstock and his uncle, the poet Gabriel Rosenstock, appeared on Miriam Meets(RTÉ Radio 1, Sunday). Miriam O'Callaghan referred to the CDs and stage shows Mario produces under the Gift Grub banner but airbrushed out his primary platform, his daily radio slot on Ian Dempsey's breakfast show – broadcast, of course, on the rival station Today FM.
In general, Mario’s comedic talents were not much on show, aside from his obligatory impressions of Vincent Browne and Michael D Higgins. Instead, his uncle stole the show.
Gabriel spoke about losing his brother Michael while still at school, and the numbing impact it had on him. But he believed he would have a different attitude if such a tragedy struck now: since embracing the eastern philosophy of Advaita, he no longer believed in the existence of death. “It says we were never born, so we can never die,” he said. O’Callaghan’s initial response was one of gentle mockery – “But I was born; were you born, Mario?” – but, at his nephew’s insistence, Gabriel went on to outline his belief that as we are all part of eternal existence, he did not think of his brother as dead.
O’Callaghan said that while this was a comforting idea, which she herself would like to feel about her own late sister, it did not make up for the physical absence of loved ones. When Gabriel asserted that physical existence has no basis, his host brought out the big guns.
“But I can touch you now,” O’Callaghan said imploringly. “That’s a real touch. I’ve touched your hand. Did you feel that?” It was a caricature of the presenter at her most touchy-feely that even Gift Grub would struggle to match. Mario interjected with another Browne impersonation, but he had been beaten at his own game, albeit inadvertently.
Gabriel Rosenstock's philosophy was a model of Cartesian rigour beside that of Kevin Woods, a "leprechaun whisperer" who, on Wednesday's Mooney(RTÉ Radio 1, weekdays), told Derek Mooney about the 236 little people he regularly communed with in Carlingford. The presenter maintained a straight face throughout the bizarre item, but it was in keeping with his ludicrous surroundings: he was hosting an attempt to set a new world record for the largest gathering of people dressed as leprechauns.
With jolly ballads from the Corrigan Brothers and cringeworthy comedy from June Rodgers, the show was fluffier than a feather duster. But it was compelling too, like a guilty pleasure. The world-record attempt lay in the balance, thanks to disqualifications for inappropriate leprechaun attire (who knew?). In the end, with 262 participants, a new record was set. RTÉ’s management must wish they could set the numbers with such ease.
radioreview@irishtimes.com
Radio moment of the week
Philip Molloy, last week's stand-in host on The Right Hook(Newstalk, weekdays), was joined on Wednesday by the charity chief Fergus Finlay to discuss films of the 1940s.
The pair knew their cinema, but the item was more enjoyable for the curmudgeonly squabbling over which were the best movies of that decade.
One perceptive listener captured their chemistry perfectly, texting that they sounded like Statler and Waldorf, the grumpy hecklers from The Muppet Show.
