The relationship between Noel Kelly and RTÉ – which seems to have been stuttering along for years in a state of toxic codependency – imploded at this week’s Oireachtas committee.
Kelly may be known as the “real DG”, but he has been patiently nurturing his resentments against the organisation for years even as he simultaneously milked it. He is, senior Montrose sources told The Irish Times, known for expressing a low opinion of RTÉ management. On Tuesday it all erupted in a furious torrent of self-righteousness and high emotion.
“Entirely a mess of RTÉ's own making”… “ignored our request”… “struggling to understand the correct accounting treatment”… “the confused thinking returned”… “the most shocking revelation”… “this is not the Ryan Tubridy scandal; this is the RTÉ scandal”.
Bridges weren’t just burned, as Fintan O’Toole noted, they were incinerated. Kelly must have calculated that saving his star client’s reputation was more important than saving his relationship with RTÉ. But it is a dizzyingly high-stakes gamble for both.
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When the announcement came that Tubridy and Kelly would appear before the committee together, it seemed like an odd decision by the presenter. He could have gone in alone, revealed what he knew, blamed the agent for whatever he didn’t, apologised wholeheartedly and been back at work in a couple of months. This is what he says he wants. So why would he choose to align his fate to that of the very person who had negotiated the deals causing him such reputational damage? Especially now that the kind of silly sums of money Kelly was so good at wrangling seem to be permanently off the table?
It didn’t take long for the answer to become clear. “I will be relying on my agent, Noel Kelly, to go through the figures,” the presenter announced in his opening remarks.
Tubridy started out as Succession’s Logan Roy but lapsed into Cousin Greg whenever the subject of money came up. “If it is to be said, so it be – so it is,” was the immortal line stammered by the hapless Succession character when he appeared before the United States senate. Tubridy’s version amounted to: “Better ask Noel.”
The double act initially seemed like a brilliant move, allowing him to bat away all the difficult, irksome, and potentially damaging questions about payments, while he concentrated on exuding the qualities of a future president, appealing to us to think of the children, the charity work, the towering stack of letters from concerned pensioners in the hall. In this manner, they survived long hours of questioning, landed several blows on RTÉ and emerged with Tubridy’s image partly redeemed in the eyes of the public. It was a masterclass in crisis communications. But what was a mutually beneficial arrangement on Tuesday may have become a mutually destructive one by Friday.
It is painfully apparent that the RTÉ/Kelly coalition cannot go back to business as usual. Kelly’s version of events raised more questions than it answered. Essentially, it asks us to believe that there are two Noel Kellys. One is pitbull negotiator; the other a man who was loath to question a “one hundred year old institution”. One the super-agent-in-residence, a man whose power over RTÉ was described by Fianna Fáil TD James O’Connor as “God-like”; the other a guy who humbly follows instructions.
Kelly is known for his brilliant negotiating skills. His relentless pursuit of the best possible deal on behalf of his clients is almost legendary. Until Tuesday’s committee hearings, he could have made the case that he was only doing his job. After all, he is not the one with the contract of trust with the public; his motivations are entirely commercial.
Instead, he presented a version of events which requires us to accept that, when instructed by RTÉ to invoice an UK company he had never heard of; to not use Ryan Tubridy’s name on it; to describe the nature of the work as ‘consulting’; to raise the invoice in the name of his sister company CMS, he suddenly lost all powers of interrogation and independent thought, and mutely went along with it because he was intimidated by the size of RTÉ. “Those were RTÉ's instructions,” he said. “Again, we were directed by RTÉ… RTÉ has, say, 1,800 employees and turns over €350 million. We are a small little company… We followed the instructions exactly.”
This is about as plausible as the notion the pyramids were built by aliens. And after all that, will he now be able to pick up where he left off, and get back to negotiating with RTÉ on behalf of his clients, including Tubridy? It is not going to be easy.
RTÉ chair Siún ní Raghallaigh told the Dáil PAC 10 days ago that RTÉ was looking at “whether we continue to deal with agents”. Kevin Bakhurst has indicated in several interviews that he feels similarly.
Meanwhile, Tubridy continues to insist his goal is to get back to RTÉ. On Thursday, Bakhurst pointedly didn’t rule this out, saying he would have to think about what’s best for RTÉ, and speak to colleagues first. But there is also that pinstriped elephant in the board room to be considered.
Having presented themselves before the committee – and the public – as a double act, it is hard to see how Tubridy could return to RTÉ with Kelly acting as a go-between, and just as difficult to see Tubridy ever cutting loose from Kelly.
Of course, there are other broadcasters in Ireland and elsewhere and, as Pat Kenny has demonstrated, there is a lucrative life beyond RTÉ. But Tubridy repeated over and over on Tuesday that he wants to go back to that “great old place”. He wants to be part of the catharsis. He may come to regret hitching his wagon to Noel Kelly’s.