Paschal Donohoe waffles, Claire Byrne yawns, Catherine Martin bristles

Rejoice! Or not, as the case may be. Far from sparking unbridled jubilation, the Government’s announcement that most Covid restrictions are being lifted is greeted on the airwaves by the aural equivalent of tumbleweed.

If Minister for Finance Paschal Donohoe expects to be showered with accolades when he appears on The Claire Byrne Show (RTÉ Radio 1, weekdays), he's soon disabused of the notion. The host's first question is whether a plan B has been formulated if things go wrong.

It’s not like anyone expects the composed Byrne to pop the champagne, but she seems singularly underwhelmed by the occasion. And it’s difficult to get enthused when her guest describes the long-anticipated plan as “a bridge to a better future”, a phrase with all the joyful spontaneity of a billboard slogan for a property development.

Peppered with questions about Cabinet leaks and Katherine Zappone's controversial Merrion Hotel gathering, Donohoe resorts to classic whataboutery, pointing out that RTÉ had its own pandemic-party scandal

One of the Coalition’s best-drilled media performers, Donohoe isn’t unduly flustered by Byrne’s quizzing. Indeed, so assured is the Minister’s spiel that at one point the host can be heard exhaling in a manner that sounds – possibly inadvertently but nonetheless appropriately – like a yawn.

Monica Lewinsky: ‘I wanted a job, a husband, kids. I wanted to be treated normally’

---

Adrian Dunbar dedicates award win to mother (89) who beat Covid-19

---

Colin Farrell: ‘If I want to be shocked I’ll go out at 3am and see someone homeless’

---

Netflix: 10 of the best new shows to watch in September

---

Donohoe sounds rattled only when the interview moves from pandemic policy to juicy political intrigue. Asked about Minister for Foreign Affairs Simon Coveney's deletion of texts relating to the botched appointment of Katherine Zappone as a UN envoy, he waffles on about his Cabinet colleague representing Ireland "extraordinarily well", only to be cut short by the host. "Nobody's questioning that, but do you delete messages you get from ministerial colleagues?" Byrne asks.

Peppered with questions about Cabinet leaks and the rumbling story about Tánaiste Leo Varadkar’s attendance at Zappone’s controversial gathering at the Merrion Hotel, Donohoe gets testier, resorting to classic whataboutery by pointing out that RTÉ had its own pandemic-party scandal. By the time Byrne calls time on the interview, any good-news bounce has been thoroughly deflated.

It’s an absorbing bout that shows off Byrne’s calm, attritional approach to good effect. Other efforts to add zing to proceedings don’t work as well, however. A discussion of whether attendance numbers should be increased for the All-Ireland football final is, unusually for the Today programme, accompanied by a text poll on the question. Such snap surveys are standard fodder on phone-in and zippy talkshows, but in the hands of a focused broadcaster like Byrne it comes across as a distracting gimmick.

Claire Byrne mightn't have the most sparkling on-air persona, but she's a serious performer: shoehorning text polls and other extraneous tricks into her repertoire undermines her assets as a presenter

Uncharacteristically, the host gets the name of one guest wrong throughout the item, referring to the journalist Cahair O’Kane as “O’Hare”. Nor does the poll provide any clarity on what is an inconclusive discussion, being split down the middle on the issue. Byrne mightn’t have the most sparkling on-air persona, but she’s a serious performer: shoehorning extraneous tricks into her repertoire undermines her assets as a presenter.

As if to underline that she's more adept at bursting bubbles than breaking them out, Byrne also speaks to the infectious-disease specialist Prof Sam McConkey about – wait for it – a new coronavirus variant circulating in Colombia, already conferred with evocative name of "Mu". (Ryan Tubridy has already made nervous reference to this variant on his Radio 1 show, even playing the KLF's 1991 techno-pop hit Justified and Ancient for its ominously prophetic chorus of "All bound for Mu Mu Land".)

As McConkey has provided commentary throughout the worst phases of the pandemic, the mere sound of hs voice is enough to cause a Pavlovian pang of dread. It’s a pleasant surprise to find him in reasonably relaxed form about the new strain, noting that it hasn’t spread much beyond its South American epicentre: “It doesn’t appear to me at this stage that this is one we need to worry about.”

Byrne’s show hasn’t suffered an uncontrollable outbreak of optimism, however, as her guest also expresses worry that a heavy flu season may put hospitals under strain this winter. But the overall mood is positive, with McConkey saying he’s “very pleased” with the Government’s announcement, deeming it a step in the right direction. It’s as celebratory as things get: Byrne’s sternly cautious style chimes with a wider wary mood.

Kieran Cuddihy presses Catherine Martin on whether she deletes phone messages. 'I don't do business by text,' the Minister replies. Her exasperation is palpable, suggesting choppy waters may yet lie ahead for the Government parties

Freshly returned from his holidays, Kieran Cuddihy, host of The Hard Shoulder (Newstalk, weekdays), is taken aback by the speed with which restrictions are being removed, though his concern has little to do with public health. "I take a few days off and the Government basically declares the pandemic over," he says, in wryly self-centred fashion. But, as his interview with Minister for Tourism and Culture Catherine Martin shows, he needn't worry about having missed the big story.

Discussing the reopening, Martin sounds guarded rather than upbeat, perhaps because uncertainty still surrounds the arts and events sectors: she admits to frustration at the changing criterion for reopening these areas. However, the Minister seems comfortable with the host’s questions, even if some of her answers – such as long-stay vacations by foreign visitors being a way to square environmental and tourism priorities – aren’t entirely convincing.

As with Byrne’s interview with Donohoe, it’s only when Cuddihy raises the Zappone affair that Martin sounds uneasy. “I’m disappointed by how all this was handled,” she says, adding that while she accepts the apology of her Coalition colleague Coveney for deleting texts, “lessons have to be learned”.

The host doesn’t let his guest off so easily. Dismissing Coveney’s excuse of ditching relevant information on the UN appointment as “the-dog-ate-my-homework stuff”, Cuddihy presses Martin on whether she deletes phone messages. “I don’t do business by text,” the Minister replies, explaining she prefers to conduct Government affairs more formally.

Her air of exasperation is palpable, suggesting that choppy waters may yet lie ahead for the Government parties, no matter how many restrictions they lift. Cuddihy, for his part, sounds elated, excitedly speculating about the burgeoning scandal after the interview ends. At least somebody’s happy.

Moment of the Week: Poetic lament for pandemic loss

On Monday's Arena (RTÉ Radio 1) its host, Seán Rocks, talks to the poet Nick Laird about his latest work, an elegy for his father, who recently died of Covid. As Laird puts it, the poem starts out with "poety language" before giving way to a stark account of his (vaccinated) father's death.

Laird ruminates on the consolatory qualities of poetry following his father’s “brutal” lockdown funeral: “It felt very lonely and odd, and maybe that necessitated the writing of something stable and solid.” Laird also reads from his poem, imbuing a harrowing passage about phoning his dying father with emotional resonance.

It’s a riveting reminder of art’s unique power and a poignant testament to a life tragically lost to the virus. “Let us say his name,” Rocks asks of his guest. “Alastair Laird,” the bereaved poet replies. There’s nothing more to say.