Ever since he announced his intention to retire from radio, George Hook has been vague about the exact date he plans to depart, much to the confusion of admirers and the frustration of detractors. On Tuesday, however, the presenter surely unites friend and foe alike in sincerely hoping he doesn't leave The Right Hook (Newstalk, weekdays) any time soon, as he gives listeners a glimpse of his intended post-broadcasting career, as a writer of erotic fiction.
This is such an outlandish concept that when Hook appears on The Brendan O'Connor Show (RTÉ Radio 1, weekdays) to discuss his mooted novel it seems it must be a hoax. Even when Hook starts to read out excerpts from the book O'Connor has the bemused air of a man who can't quite believe what he's hearing.
And who can blame him? Hook describes the hero of his story as a “fat balding presenter” at a radio station owned by an “eccentric billionaire”, who looks back on his life from the vantage point of his deathbed, remembering the women – and men – he has had congress with.
“So in this book you’re bisexual?” asks a slightly alarmed O’Connor. “Me? No. This is fiction,” Hook clarifies before stating his belief that sexual attraction between human beings can go any way. “There isn’t a schoolboy who at some time didn’t have a crush on another man,” he says, revealing his youthful attraction for a young male athlete he once saw at a track meeting.
It’s an astonishingly candid admission by Hook, allowing a peek at the person beneath the harrumphing image. But the reflective atmosphere changes when he actually reads his fiction. Soon the air is thick with such ripe phrases as “magnificent double-D breasts” and “wondrous orbs”. It’s enough to set any pulse racing: to paraphrase Oscar Wilde, you would want to have a heart of stone to hear this without laughing.
Later, back on his own show, Hook provides reminders of his virtues as a broadcaster. He has a robust but constructive debate about the Greek referendum with the Sinn Féin TD Pearse Doherty – despite their political differences, the respectful tone is in stark contrast to the presenter's past fractious encounters with the anti-austerity TD Paul Murphy – and an enjoyable if slightly idiosyncratic discussion about ticket refunds with the music writer Billy O Hanluain, in which Hook extols his (presumably platonic) love of Frank Sinatra.
But, try as he might, he cannot deny his literary instincts for long. He talks to Ruby Kiddell, the writer and organiser of the Eroticon fiction festival, in the hope of picking up some advice for his future vocation. It turns out that Hook wants to write not “dirty books” but a “wonderful work of literature with some sex in it”. Kiddell is doubtful: it’s an admirable goal, she says, but for erotic fiction to work it needs “lots of orgasms”.
She also sounds dubious about her host's ability to generate the requisite sweaty palms. The use of hilariously archaic terms like "stud", "filly" and, yes, "orbs" prompts her to suggest that Hook update his vocabulary. By the time Kiddell suggests that the presenter could produce his own audio books of erotic fiction it's hard to disagree with the verdict of his Newstalk colleague Shane Coleman that the whole business is "disturbing", particularly, as Hook also reveals, "my plan is to write a trilogy".
As if all this were not enough evidence that the silly season is in full swing – albeit while news bulletins bulge daily with big stories – further proof comes on The Anton Savage Show (Today FM, weekdays), where the pressing issue of a minor politician's diction comes under the spotlight. On Monday Senator Fidelma Healy Eames talks to Savage about the ridicule she has endured for her peculiar pronunciation of the word "wifi", rendered as "wiffy" in a recent Seanad speech.
As the Senator makes clear, the whole affair arose from a simple misunderstanding. Asking that her host not make a mountain out of a molehill, she explains at length that she was actually using the French pronunciation of the term, by way of mimicking a continental tourist’s request for a “wiffy” password in a cafe. To back her claim she plays an excerpt from her speech, where, sure enough, she also uses the anglophone version of wifi.
It’s stunningly inconsequential stuff, but both host and guest rise magnificently to the challenge of spinning it into 10 or so minutes of airtime. Even as she says that people should get “a bit of perspective on this” Healy Eames uses the matter as an example of why boundaries in social media are needed. She has been belittled and demeaned for one small slip, she says. As a public figure she can handle this – “I’m a big girl” – but she asks us to imagine the impact on someone more vulnerable. A fair enough point, although going on national radio to expound on it probably makes things worse.
Wry and self-aware broadcaster that he is, Savage doesn't pretend that this is anything other than fluffy filler. As he later remarks, "We can't talk about Syria all the time." Which may explain some of the other items on his show, such as interviews with Gay Byrne about the 53rd anniversary of The Late Late Show and with the British reality-TV star Vicky Pattison about her foray into fiction. At least the latter isn't an erotic novel. Tthank goodness for small mercies.
Moment of the Week: Water on the brain?
On Tuesday the Fine Gael TD Catherine Byrne appears on Liveline (RTÉ Radio 1, weekdays) to defend her controversial comments about people who, she says, load up supermarket trolleys with drink but won't pay water charges. She gives an impassioned speech about "civic responsibility" to Joe Duffy, and explains that she wasn't tarring everyone with the same brush. "I made it very pacific. I said some people." Talk about an ocean of trouble. No wonder she's getting no peace.
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