RADIO REVIEW:THE HIGH failure rates for Leaving Cert maths occasioned much hand-wringing last week, as politicians and business leaders began to fear that Ireland's economy might not be so smart after all. But a more cavalier attitude was evident in at least one exam candidate whose numeracy had let him down, as Dave Fanning, guest host of Tubridy(2FM, weekdays), found out on Wednesday.
The misfiring maths student was not some fresh-faced teenager but the rather more grizzled figure of Charlie Bird, who had flunked the subject – and hence his entire Leaving – when he sat the exam in the 1960s. The veteran RTÉ reporter was on the show to reassure listeners receiving their results that failure did not mean the end of the world; or, as Fanning said when introducing his guest, “It’s only the shaggin’ Leaving, isn’t it?”
As it happened, Bird’s appearance was not as comforting as it might have been. He said academic underachievement should not prevent anyone from following their dream – you just had to “work your backside off”. But while Bird uttered noble motivational statements, Fanning seemed bent on discovering if his guest regretted missing out on college. Eventually, Bird conceded that as a young man he felt “a little bit inferior” meeting friends who were at university. For good measure, he added that he would not get in the door at RTÉ today with the Leaving Certificate he had: hardly a message of encouragement for any nervous or insecure students.
Nor had Bird’s capacity for numbers obviously improved. He said he had sat his final exams 30 years ago, before correcting the figure to 40 years, though even that fell short.
Someone on the show enjoyed a satisfactory outcome to their exams, however. A caller named Colm, who had just re-sat the Leaving 21 years after his first attempt, opened the envelope containing his results on-air. The tension of the occasion was somewhat lessened by the fact that Colm had taken only one subject – ordinary-level English – and merely needed a C grade in order to pursue his studies as a primary-school teacher. Still, there was much celebration in the studio when Colm got top marks.
The item made a change from the default approach to such exams, namely thrusting a microphone in front of dazed students and following up with earnest punditry. The segment also was symptomatic of the avuncular, shaggy-dog atmosphere that has prevailed during Fanning’s stewardship of Tubridy’s show. More than 30 years of broadcasting experience has not added much in the way of slickness to his signature style. He talked too fast, started playing songs only to abruptly take them off, and had a general disregard for smooth professionalism. After an ad break stopped midcommercial, leaving a glaring silence, he was jovially dismissive of the notion that dead air is radio’s cardinal sin. “It happens all the time,” he chuckled, before falling uncharacteristically quiet for a second. “See, that’s dead air there.”
He occasionally walked a fine line between affable familiarity and self-indulgent entitlement, but Fanning’s temporary tenancy of the midmorning slot was closer in tone to the glory days of the late Gerry Ryan than Tubridy’s more troubled tenure.
On the face of things, a similarly casual ambience prevailed on Sam Smyth on Sunday(Today FM). Though he presents a current-affairs discussion programme, Smyth at times sounded like he was hosting a brunch for old friends. When his regular American contributor Ed Hayes phoned from Long Island, Smyth alerted him to the presence of a mutual acquaintance, Mary O'Rourke, with a jolly greeting of "Guess who's sitting across from me, Ed?"
Smyth’s cheery banter was also testament to his wide experience, however. His acquaintances on the panel were reminders of his journalistic credentials, helping to give the show the feel of an insiders’ gathering as well as a social occasion. But when he interviewed a comparative outsider, in the shape of the Fine Gael TD Simon Harris, the youngest member of the Dáil, Smyth was less sure-footed.
The conversation buzzed along while the 24-year-old TD was quizzed about his route into public life (the experience of having an autistic relative spurred Harris to set up a support group while still at school), but Smyth then seemed to run out of questions, interest or both. Discovering that Harris still lived at home, he asked whether he could iron a shirt or use a vacuum cleaner. He then asked his guest if he went to music festivals and who his favourite bands were. Rather than sounding like a knowledgeable insider, Smyth suddenly came across as a dutiful uncle making awkward conversation with an uncomprehending teen nephew.
He was savvy enough to realise the interview had lost its way: when Harris said he was sometimes patronised by older media hands, the presenter good-naturedly referred back to his own question about the TD’s favourite groups. But the item showed how Smyth, for all his connections, could flounder when dealing with someone whose formative interests fell outside his comfort zone.
Experience may be more important than exams, but even the most seasoned broadcaster should always be learning.
Radio moment of the week
Traffic reports are not normally a source of much sport, but the AA Roadwatch bulletin on Thursday's Morning Ireland(RTÉ Radio 1, weekdays) conjured up a memorable image when Arwen Foley cautioned that traffic in Birr was snarled up after a truck shed its cargo of, wait for it, mayonnaise. All the accident needed was a bread van and lorryload of ham, and inconvenienced drivers could have enjoyed a consolation picnic.
radioreview@irishtimes.com
