RadioReview: It was a bit difficult to concentrate on the job at hand this week because like many a wage slave who heard Donegal TD Jim McDaid in his various interviews I spent rather a lot of time fantasising about developing a new career strategy.
In this rather lovely reverie, I tell my boss I'll be giving up the job this time next year and till then I'll do what I can when it comes to turning in the odd radio review, but really I'll be busy working at something entirely different. It doesn't matter what it says in my job description, she'll have to take what she gets. She turns to me and says no bother, I'll still pay you your vast salary and expenses - this is a dream after all - and you carry on doing whatever you fancy.
On Tuesday, McDaid announced he will be exiting political life at the next election. Tackled by Hugh Linehan (sitting in for Matt Cooper on The Last Word, Today FM, Tuesday) about his shockingly poor Dáil attendance and voting record, McDaid explained, his brass neck positively glinting in the sun, that he's been very busy. His medical practice has been hectic and his partner had a baby, so he has his hands full and between it all there's been very little time left for politics.
Unless I misunderstood the good doctor, that's pretty much the way things are going to be as he sees out his Dáil notice.
All day, news bulletins covering his announcement led with the hackneyed line that "tributes were being paid to the TD" but that's not what it sounded like on Liveline (RTÉ1, Tuesday). Donegal listeners told of feeling politically unrepresented and others were amazed that he had time to be working as a doctor when he's supposed to doing the rather well-paid job for which he was elected.
As we are now firmly in pre-election mode and with McDaid as an example, good luck to the politicians on the doorsteps as they try to convince people of the importance of the Dáil and the necessity of voting.
The only thing that snapped me out of my money-for-whatever-you're-having- yourself fantasy was being told rather more than I need to know about erectile dysfunction, constipation and incontinence.
This column rarely gets into the business of critiquing radio advertisements but it seems that every second ad break features a shouty 30 seconds about some medical condition - and I don't like it. It's not just that the woman in the constipation ad leaves me with a hugely unpleasant mental image of a handbag full of poo, it's that the floodgates on pharmaceutical advertising seem to be edging ever more open.
Over-the-counter products can be advertised (my only problem with the constipation one is that it's revolting) but radio advertisements for prescription drugs are not allowed under various broadcast codes and medical guidelines. Pharmaceutical companies are getting around the ban, however, by advertising the condition - incontinence, erectile dysfunction etc - and then including their company name in the tag line at the end, "this message is sponsored by X" sort of thing. True, the ads don't promote and name a specific drug - so they are following the letter of the law. But they are promoting the company that makes that drug under the guise of giving general information.
It's a grey area, but as advertisements for medical conditions seem to be getting more numerous, it's one that should be tackled and not just because listeners are in grave danger of being put off their dinner or having to explain to small people with big ears what erectile means.
The many broadcasts marking the Easter Rising commemorations are coming to an end and The 1916 Room (Documentary on One, RTÉ1, Sunday) was an interesting experiment that mostly worked. It gathered four people into what we were told was a room that resembled a room of 1916. As it wasn't described or much commented on, perhaps the set decoration was designed more to get the programme's participants in the mood than for the listeners' benefit.
Former taoiseach Garret FitzGerald, 1980s IRA hunger striker Tommy McKearney, Richard English, professor of politics in Queen's University and poet and professor Éilean Ní Chuilleanain chatted amiably about the rising and its aftermath amid the clattering of tea cups and the occasional sneeze.
After so much 1916 coverage, I don't think anything new emerged - although the relaxed tone and conversational atmosphere was engaging and it was interesting to hear some different voices - Ní Chuilleanain's description of the commemoration of the 75th anniversary which seemed to centre on a poetry event in the GPO was hilarious. Anything that steps outside the rigid and increasingly uninspired Documentary on One format is to be welcomed.
