Radio Review/Bernice Harrison: Mid-way through what must have been one of Mary O'Rourke's most tiresome interviews on A Comic Inquisition (RTÉ1, Saturday), the leader of the Seanad said, apropos nothing in particular: "You're not manifestly funny but I believe you are . . ."
As a general put down, it's pretty good but given that she was talking to one of Ireland's top comedians, it's savage. For some reason Tommy Tiernan now has a half-hour Saturday morning interview slot and O'Rourke was his first guest.
When the comedian fetched up at Montrose offering his services to a station that is remarkably unsuccessful at generating comedy (tribunals coverage aside) you'd think someone would have said that, as they're falling down with interviewers, maybe Tiernan should stick to what he does best. As it turns out, and not entirely unsurprisingly, Tiernan is a hopeless interviewer. How did he expect O'Rourke to respond to questions such as, "You seem to have a great appetite for craic?" or "Do you have a bad streak in you?". What's she going to say? But what do questions like that mean anyway or are they supposed to be the comic bit in the programme's title. Details aside, it's pointless doing a general interview with Mary O'Rourke - she's told her story so many times - unless Tiernan's producer may have thought her Olympic-calibre freestyle chatting would save the day. It didn't.
Some comedy crossovers do seem to work, even if they do involve intriguing adaptations. As an income-generator the BBC sells the format of the corporation's most successful shows and the Hindi adaptation of Keeping up Appearances is currently being filmed in Mumbai. On Keeping Up Appearances in India (BBCR4, Sunday), Clive Swift, who plays Hyacinth Bucket's (pronounced "bouquet", of course) henpecked husband in the television series, looked at the changes that have to be made to "Indianise" the programme. The Indian Hyacinth is a young housewife - "we don't want to see old people pottering about, it has to be aspirational" - and she lives in a palatial marbled home because according to the producer, the one on British TV wouldn't be fit for a homeless person on India's deeply aspirational TV. In the scenes where she invites her neighbour for one of her famous candlelight suppers, it's always raining because that signifies romance, and her coffee table is littered with travel brochures for Switzerland, the ultimate posh holiday destination.
Nessa Tierney's documentary Beauty Kabul Style (BBC World Service, Tuesday) showed in a very poignant, powerful way what aspirational can actually mean. Shakiba and Fariba Nouri work 14 hour days beautifying their clients who want to look like the Bollywood stars on the posters that decorate the salon, which has just a small sink and a hole-in-the-ground toilet behind a curtain. The most difficult problem is finding the blue, green and gold glittering eye-shadow and the white face powder that the clients prefer but as the women survived in business during the viciously repressive Taliban era, product sourcing is the least of their challenges. Both work out of necessity, supporting an extended family of 10, their husbands - one a taxi driver the other a doctor on $80 a month - don't earn enough. Tierney's documentary showed that a day spent in somewhere as mundane as a beauty parlour can give a tremendous insight into an entire culture.
Summer Days (RTÉ1, Monday) offered an ugly insight into our own culture with a loud old-fashioned townies v culchies row with Tom McGurk gleefully wielding a gigantic spoon, stirring it up. It was one of Éanna Ní Lamhna's first major media outings as newly elected president of An Taisce and the woman with the most identifiable voice on radio sounded prickly, defensive and way out of her natural habitat as she tried to explain exactly what the organisation does. If she thought she'd be allowed talk about safe beaches and clean-up programmes, she was wrong. McGurk and the other guests weren't going to let her and there was a heated battle about planning issues, specifically An Taisce's objection to one-off housing. Highly entertaining radio to start the week.
I can't quite warm to Derek Davis's father-confessor tone of voice on Liveline (RTÉ1, daily) - I'm sure he was more lively last year - and the subjects are dull and repetitive. Unless someone is prepared to do something about it, could we all just simply agree that Ireland is far, far too expensive and leave it at that? Then Liveline fans won't have to listen to call after tedious call, day in day out, telling the same boring story of cheap meals in Majorca or Berlin. Davis, who frequently reminds listeners that he is not a thin man, thrives on this sort of chat - and what did you have for the main course, he salivates - and on and on it goes.
As Mary O'Rourke might say, You're not manifestly hungry, Derek, but I believe you are.