TIPPING POINT, critical mass, cumulative effect: call it what you will, there are times when a story inexorably gains such momentum that it suddenly takes on a life of its own and seizes the public imagination. One thinks of the News of the Worldphone-hacking scandal, where, after the disclosure that journalists had tapped into the mobile of the murdered schoolgirl Milly Dowler, a slow-drip celebrity sideshow quickly became a firestorm that overwhelmed Rupert Murdoch's News Corporation.

A similar, if less sordid, phenomenon occurred last week, when the issue of mortgage debt boiled over after months of simmering. On Monday, when

Drivetime

(RTÉ Radio 1, weekdays) covered the release of Central Bank figures showing more than 55,000 households were in arrears of more than 90 days, it seemed an excuse for a party political ding-dong, but little else, as the Fine Gael TD Brian Hayes rebutted charges that the Government had not acted on its election pledge to help those in distress.

Initially, the exchange was notable for the always-entertaining spectacle of a Fianna Fáil spokesman, in this case Michael McGrath, criticising the Coalition over its response to the mess created by the previous administration. The impression was of an arsonist upbraiding the fire brigade for its failure to douse a blaze he had started, particularly after it was pointed out that Fianna Fáil had opposed Fine Gael’s proposal for mortgage-interest relief during the election.

But if Hayes thought he had the whip hand, the programme’s presenter Philip Boucher-Hayes disabused him, pointing out that the numbers in debt had increased since the Coalition took power, possibly because of inaction on the issue. When the Minister said it was important that those in debt speak to their lenders, Boucher-Hayes disdainfully asked if the Government itself was talking to the banks, given that the State now owned much of the sector.

Such exchanges hinted that the Government was losing control of the narrative, but the full extent of the public mood became clear on Tuesday, when the issue dominated proceedings at the people's court, the Colosseum of complaint, the nation's safety valve or, to use its proper name, Liveline(RTÉ Radio 1, weekdays). Joe Duffy opened the show by talking to Paula, a pensioner who said she had used her life savings to help alleviate the mortgage woes of her son, whose payments had fallen behind after he fell ill. Far from being grateful, the building society told Paula it still expected payment of the €50,000 outstanding on her son's debt within five years. (So much for Hayes's advice to talk to your bank.) It was astounding stuff, the heart-rending effect increased by Paula's tearful rationale that she only had "a few years left" while her son still had his life ahead of him.

Lest such testimony be insufficient to stir the audience, Duffy recapped the situation, cranking up the indignation. He described Paula as someone “who worked all your life, paid your taxes, saved money, paid Dirt on it, then handed it over to a building society which got heavily into property, who we helped bail out. And they say we’re not going to let you pay off what you’re offering to pay, because we reckon we can squeeze more out of you until 2016, the 100th anniversary of the 1916 Rising. Though that’s not relevant,” he added, somewhat superfluously.

It was a bravura flourish by Duffy, part demagogic social crusader, part circus ringmaster. But he clearly touched a nerve. The next day, one woman phoned to say she had withdrawn her account from the building society in question as a result of Paula’s tale. Meanwhile, other callers vied to tell the most harrowing mortgage-debt story.

One man, Tom, recounted how he had taken a subprime mortgage after consolidating his loans, only to lose his job. Overwhelmed by debt, he had borrowed from an illegal moneylender. His voice cracking, Tom told how he had to repay €7,000 by the end of the week or he would, as the loan shark told him, “end up in a ditch”.

It was an upsetting vignette of the personal desperation behind the statistics; Duffy avoided editorialising this time. But there was a happy ending. The comedian Brendan O’Carroll got in contact to say he would pay off the debt, leading Tom to cry in gratitude and, one presumes, relief.

Tom's tale was the kind of human-interest fodder that Liveline thrives on daily. But it also spoke of a change in the wider atmosphere. Earlier on Wednesday, Michael Noonan appeared on Morning Ireland(RTÉ Radio 1, weekdays) and Breakfast(Newstalk, weekdays) to say that the Government would take steps to help some of those in arrears. But he sounded like a man reacting to events rather than dictating them.

Over a couple of days, a previously niggling concern had become a crisis. When a cross-dressing comedian provides the solutions to your problems, you know you’re at a tipping point.

radioreview@irishtimes.com

Radio moment of the week

If there is an upside to current calamities, it is how changed circumstances have inspired people to explore unexpected avenues. Tuesday's Today with Pat Kenny(RTÉ Radio 1, weekdays) featured four men from north Dublin who had taken up cooking and vegetable gardening since the recession took hold. Based at a centre for the unemployed, they had thrown themselves into their new pastimes, bringing fresh enthusiasm to activities once seen as the preserve of Sunday-supplement readers. It could have been patronising but was carried by the infectious good humour of the amateur cooks.

“You won’t be able to eat your dinner – there’ll be murder at home,” teased one as Kenny tasted the home-grown fare. You couldn’t help but smile.