It’s the proverbial wet Wednesday, but Joe Duffy couldn’t sound any brighter on even the sunniest day. “There’s thunder and lightning here in RTÉ,” Duffy jovially reports. “That’s outside the building. It’s normally inside the building.” Ba-dum tish! Far from dampening his humour, the midweek downpours bring out Duffy’s inner stand-up, as he showers Liveline (RTÉ Radio 1, weekdays) with the kind of permachuckling yet laugh-free bonhomie more associated with light-entertainment hosts.
The show starts with Duffy chatting to Alan O’Reilly of the meteorology website Carlow Weather about the thunderstorms hitting the east coast, though the tone is jaunty when discussing the dangers of lightning. As other callers join the conversation, however, the host really cuts loose. Anne, a self-described lollipop lady, inquires if she’s at risk of a lightning strike when holding her sign. “How big is your lollipop stick?” Duffy asks giddily. Anne gamely indulges her host: “Oh, big enough,” she replies, to theatrical chortles from Duffy.
Duffy is in full lighthearted-Joe mode, collapsing under a paroxysm of giggles at the slightest hint of levity, while playing up his befuddled-Everyman persona to credulity-stretching levels
It’s the kind of dialogue that Carry On films might shun as a bit puerile, but there’s more to come. When another caller, Eddie, declares himself soaked, Duffy can’t help himself. “So when I ask where you’re ringing from, you’re wringing from the waist down at this stage,” he delightedly quips, though there’s a notable absence of yuks emanating from his guest. Either way, Duffy is in full lighthearted-Joe mode, collapsing under a paroxysm of giggles at the slightest hint of levity, while playing up his befuddled-Everyman persona to credulity-stretching levels. When told Met Éireann has issued an orange weather warning, he asks, “What comes after orange? Red?”
[ Weather: Flooding reported as ‘very intense’ rain hits east of countryOpens in new window ]
It’s not all so corny. Duffy recalls that as a child his mother would comfort him during storms by saying the thunder was just the sound of barrels rolling in the Guinness brewery. He ruefully adds: “It was probably my father rolling the barrels.” It’s not quite Pagliacci, but Duffy’s subtly poignant aside is more striking than his fusillade of gags.
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Guinness features prominently elsewhere on Liveline. Tuesday’s edition is devoted to the issue of drink, following a TV documentary about the singers Niall Horan and Lewis Capaldi sponsored by the beer giant and featuring conspicuous consumption of their stout. Alcohol is, of course, as much an old reliable for Liveline as it is for Government budgets, but it yields diminishing returns if milked too much, as the resulting discussion underlines. Arguments for and against the sacred pint of plain flood the phone lines, diminishing in both coherence and interest; by the end it sounds more like a pub quarrel than a debate.
At first glance Liveline’s primary mission is to throw light on hidden issues. More often, however, the show’s stock in trade is not agenda-setting testimony
That said, it’s a barrel of laughs beside the traumatic stories aired on Monday’s show. Duffy hears Keith recount how his wife was savagely attacked by the serial sex offender Slawomir Gierlowski, whose court appeal was recently rejected. The details of the violence are so harrowing that Ruth Maxwell, another of Gierlowski’s victims, is audibly upset as she begins to describe her own horrific experience. It’s difficult material for listeners to process, but that’s Duffy’s intention: he wants Gierlowski’s name to be well known.
Overall, it’s a typical Liveline week, with powerful peaks followed by trifling troughs. At first glance the show’s primary mission is throwing light on hidden issues, be it societal scandals such as institutional abuse or more intimate matters, from menopause — as highlighted by Duffy’s callers in 2020 — to the uterine condition of endometriosis, covered at length of late. More often, however, the show’s stock in trade isn’t such agenda-setting testimony. With its mix of jolting true-life stories, hot-button topics and flippant filler, Duffy’s programme is more akin to an upmarket tabloid. He certainly has enough bad jokes.
Though a dry atmosphere can pervade The Pat Kenny Show (Newstalk, weekdays), the host is in chipper form on Tuesday as he speaks to his old sparring partner Des Cahill. The RTÉ sports presenter is on to talk about leaving the GAA TV show The Sunday Game, but one suspects he’s really there because Kenny fancies a natter. “Like the old days, isn’t it, Pat?” Cahill comments. “You and I, early mornings, chatting away,” Kenny replies wistfully. “Nobody listening,” Cahill replies, eliciting a terse titter in response.
[ Des Cahill steps down as host of The Sunday GameOpens in new window ]
If Kenny doesn’t seem entirely in on the gag, as was occasionally the case during his double act with Cahill on Radio 1, the joke is on his guest when he blandly explains why he’s departing his television gig: “I just wanted to.” Kenny guffaws dismissively: “When have RTÉ ever let anyone do what they wanted to? Come on.” The air cleared, the pair converse more easily, even setting up a golf date while still on air: “We’ll play a few holes and have a bite of lunch,” suggests the host, showing his clubbable side.
With the contents of the week’s shows something of a grab bag, Pat Kenny needs to be on song to ensure things don’t go flat
Kenny enjoys bants with others as well. He reveals his taste in G&Ts to his station colleague Andrea Gilligan (“I love me botanicals”) and skittishly reels off classic lyrics to singer Paul Harrington during their regular song slot: “I’ve got a gal in Kalamazoo,” Kenny chirps, as if to prove he’s no crooner. Then again, with the contents of the week’s shows something of a grab bag, he needs to be on song to ensure things don’t go flat.
Luckily, he retains his salty side for such purposes. Talking to the financial adviser Padraic Kissane about the Central Bank of Ireland’s loosened mortgage lending requirements, Kenny and his guest tease out the “Catch 22″ of the housing crisis: people pay far more in rents than they do in mortgages, which they are unable to secure. But the presenter detects a flaw in the ostensible good news. “The point is, there’s nothing to buy,” Kenny comments tartly. Talk about raining on the parade.
