First an announcement: I have decided that I will not be putting myself forward to host The Late Late Show. I am too busy with really important journalism work (see below) and I also wish to spend time with my children (possibly glove puppets who I call “my children”). That said, I do have some thoughts as to who the next host should be. Yes, this was always Gay Byrne’s show, crafted around his skills and interests, so all other hosts are destined to seem like mere shadows on the wall of Plato’s cave. But what can we do? That which does not live cannot die and The Late Late Show cannot die. In 50 years’ time, when ChatGPT is rewriting this article, it will still exist. So here are my ideal hosts in order of preference.
Your Da
After years of listening to him say “This eejit again” or “What’s yer man mouthing on about?” or “She’s a popstar? Well, I’ve never heard of her!” now your Da will be able to say these things directly to a celebrity’s face. “What…What’s happening?” Bono will ask as your Da does a bad impression of him, before asking how much money he has on him and noting that Adam Clayton seems like more craic. Your Da is clearly the best person for The Late Late Show gig but it’s possible after a few episodes he might die of happiness, so we also need to do some succession planning.
Patrick Kielty
Well, well, well. Look at who it is. Back from England are we? I’ll bet everything was brilliant over there. I’d say you were carried around like a little king. Well, now you’re here, back in the sh*t with the rest of us. I’m fecking thrilled for you.
Sarah McInerney
She’d be great. I know she’s ruled herself out, but I just don’t believe her. Everyone in Irish broadcasting wants to host The Late Late. It’s a deep part of our national programming like property speculation or complaining about U2. Perhaps she has used her shrewd political brain to calculate that the incoming regime will be unpopular and plans to emerge as a strong leader/host when the studio is in flames and the RTÉ staff feel most frightened and alone. Or maybe there’s a code word that when spoken by her handlers will have her hosting The Late Late, much like a Manchurian Candidate.
Graham Norton
Despite looking a little dishevelled and holding the day’s newspaper so viewers can see the date, I believe Norton’s natural charisma will ultimately prevail over the unfortunate circumstances of his employment. It will be strange at first, but people will soon regard the way he clutches at the arms of the guests (Tom Cruise, Beyonce, The Pope) while shouting: “Help me! I’m being held here against my will!” as a hilarious jape. He will eventually succumb to Stockholm Syndrome, much like The Late Late Show audience.
Bibi Baskin
Bibi’s old army buddy Colonel Sam Trautman finds her chopping wood in a Thai monastery and lures her out for one last mission. She understands that it’s important for the nation. Her tenure as a host precedes social media, certain human rights and heating in schools. She knows what television can be. She has an alliterative name. She is cool AF. She will break the rules if necessary. She will restore RTÉ to its former glory or kill us all trying.
Dáithí Ó Sé
Lilt on tap in the Green Room, the Late Late Show owl replaced by the goat from the Puck Fair, the whole shebang shot on the back of a flatback truck driven by the worst Healy Rae, it’s going to be class. Each episode will feature a segment called “The Poor Eejits in Dublin” during which Dáithí and the studio audience will point, stare and chortle at the poor eejits in Dublin while gnawing on Curly Wurlies and invoicing us for the pleasure. Here in the capital, we’ll laugh sadly, sip our avocado cappuccinos and admit that we had this coming.
[ Laura Slattery: What the Late Late needs now is the total chaos of guest hostsOpens in new window ]
An AI blend of all previous presenters
I can see, in the future, an AI generated avatar blending the strengths of all three previous presenters – Gay’s paternalism, Ryan’s exuberance, Pat’s hair. This will be used to interview AI generated deepfakes of huge celebrities all of whom have been programmed to reference small Irish townlands and talk about how great the Irish are.
“Do you like [insert small Irish townland here]?” AI Gay/Pat/Ryan will ask in a robot voice.
“I love [insert small Irish townland here],” Robot George Clooney will respond. “And I enjoy GUINNESS and THE CRAIC. I am holding a SPAR bag.”
We love that sort of guff. But on the off chance the format proves unpopular, RTÉ can generate an AI generated deepfake of the Irish people to watch it. The ratings will be amazing, a completely closed loop of AI perfection cutting out the belligerent Irish people who have long been a meaty problem for everyone, from the British Empire to Fine Gael to the executives at RTÉ. An AI audience might even clap along in time to the robot musical guests, something human audiences can’t seem to do because of drink or colonialism or something.
A selection box of Irish celebrities each more surprising than the last
Not many people have the specific array of skills required for this job. But what if the producers just went into the RTÉ canteen with a net and hoped for the best. I can imagine a grab-bag of stalwarts: Marty Morrissey, Kathryn Thomas, the best Morbeg, Dr Eva Orsmond, Maxi, Dick and Twink. We could tie them all together with a belt or, possibly, they could unite and form one big person like Voltron or the Body Politic.
Li’l Tubridy
If we rebrand the Late Late show the Li’l Late Late Show a chat show for kids hosted by Li’l Tubridy, RTÉ could secure its future for another generation. It would be the Toy Show but every week. The country will slowly sink delightedly under an avalanche of impulse-purchased plastic tat while Li’l Tubridy chortles and gambols like a sun king in his Montrose idyll. Li’l Tubridy would be the product of a nationwide search to find the right balance of Fianna Fáil heritage and rat pack charm in one insufferably precocious child. Li’l Tubridy may also turn out to be adult Tubridy but in short pants and woollen booties, and holding a large spiral lollypop. Oh, he’ll be back. Mark my words, he’ll be back.
