The Last Straw: Now that the smoking ban has passed into law, it's time to move on and consider other potential threats to public health, writes Frank McNally.
And, in this context, now might be the right moment to launch a debate on the long-ignored issue of news addiction. Chances are you've never seen this problem even mentioned in the media (I wonder why!), but if there are any unemployed lawyers among you, I predict news is where the action will be - the class action, I mean - a few years from now.
In case the editor is reading this, I should say I'm not suggesting for a moment that print journalism is detrimental to public health. On the contrary, it's a well-known fact that one or two newspapers a day can actually be good for you, especially taken with meals. Indeed even Internet-based breaking news services, such as ireland.com, are strongly beneficial in moderation (three to four units a day). No, the main targets for my criticism are the 24-hour television news stations, which all have one important thing in common: I don't work for them.
Although rarely discussed, news addiction has always been a problem in the journalism profession, and for obvious reasons. The daily scanning of other newsprint and the constant monitoring of radio and TV programmes are an important part of the job, but they can easily become habit-forming. Throw in unlimited access to foreign wire services, including specialist business material (some of that Reuters stuff is 100 per cent proof) and pretty soon - if you're in any way vulnerable - you start needing the stuff.
The problem is exacerbated by peer pressure from fellow journalists. There's nothing worse than meeting a group of colleagues and realising from the conversation that a story has broken somewhere and you don't know what it is yet. Depending on the nature of the event, there'll be a short period of time after it occurs - about three minutes, usually - when it might be OK to admit ignorance. But once this elapses, other journalists will start talking about the story in a jaded fashion, as if it happened during the late carboniferous period.
By that stage, all you'll get are elliptical comments such as "he's finished this time" or "it's her I feel sorry for". And if you can't guess the subject, it's social death to admit it. Rather than expose yourself again to such stigma, you'll probably decide you need immediate wi-fi Internet access on your mobile phone, plus a radio with an earpiece so you can monitor all news bulletins when you're out of the office. You're on a slippery slope from there on.
In the past, a journalist could at least leave the news behind him when he went home at night. Now, thanks to the 24-hour channels, even this restraint has gone. We're all familiar with the resultant sad cases, colleagues slipping out of the pub at 11.45 p.m., trying to look casual, as they dash home to catch the midnight headlines on Sky. There but for the grace of God, the rest of us mutter, shaking our heads gravely as we order more drink.
But to get back to my point, insofar as I had one, the 24-hour news stations have extended the problem far beyond journalism, to the public at large. The likes of Sky have made news junkies of us all, in turn stimulating demand for ever more breaking news services and for radio stations such as Dublin's NewsTalk, with its headlines every 20 minutes.
And it's all right when there are running stories. It's when things are quiet, and the TV bulletins are filled with experts speculating about whether or not anything is, in fact, happening, that we see what we've been reduced to. Much of the time, Sky News is as exciting as the reality show Big Brother, except you don't even get an opportunity to vote any of the experts off. But still you watch. And it's only when some night you find yourself checking the 4 a.m. headlines, dimly aware that they're the same as the 3 a.m. and 2 a.m. headlines, that it occurs to you to seek help.
Speaking of Big Brother - the Orwell version - the other scary thing about Sky is that it's everywhere. Shops and cafés have screens beaming the latest news. Monitors at Heuston Station keep commuters abreast of developments. Even my bank in Grafton Street has a TV beside the queue for cashiers, permanently switched to Sky. And it's one thing for individuals to want to keep in touch with world events every minute of the day; it's a lifestyle choice, however unhealthy. But these are workplaces, and workers are being exposed to environmental news broadcasting, involuntarily, with all the risks that go with it. Surely it's time for a ban.