`I'm astonished with myself at how little interest I take in what's going on." There it is, official (though in truth we saw it coming for years): Gay Byrne, Ireland's greatest-ever broadcaster, Lord of the Airwaves, has tuned out. Gaybo's confession of indifference to events in the wider world - or was it a boast? - came in yet another of his cagey, rosy accounts of retirement, this time in a chat with his old pal Deirdre Purcell on (you guessed it) Deirdre Purcell (RTE Radio 1, Monday to Friday).
The highlight of the 65th-birthday interview, the word-picture his fans have apparently been waiting for since that night of the surprise gift on the Late Late, was his quietly enthusiastic description of a July day roaring across the plains of Meath on his new 1200cc Harley-Davison, his identity shrouded by helmet and visor. "I'd say Harley riders all over the country have been enjoying a nod and a wave, pretending to be Gaybo," he said - perhaps overestimating the excitement on the country's roads about his motorcycle exploits and the propensity of other Harley riders to wear a visor.
There were a few such strutting flourishes in what he sought to portray as a modest senior's stroll. "I'm not a man who likes to have a fuss made about me," he declared a propos his birthday, but he wasn't embarrassed to tell us how many extra weeks he worked trying to answer all the good wishes sent him from around the world, how many laudatory emails he received in one two-day period alone. And who'd begrudge him? All right, lots of people, but Gaybo is entitled to a bit of pride, and if RTE chooses to underline his legendary status on selected occasions and borrow a little lustre in the bargain, who's to argue?
It must be said that Montrose has not been resting on Gay's laurels. The development of that elusive property, "new talent", can actually be heard occurring this summer. If women have been the most obvious beneficiaries of whatever policy is being implemented in RTE Radio, then it's not before time. A couple of years ago, a teenage relation was telling me about his favourite teacher. She was terrific in school, he said, but her true passion was for radio, and on certain evenings she'd leg it from school into the Radio Centre to chat on-air with a 2FM DJ about news, movies, culture, whatever. Needless to say, as a responsible radio reviewer I tuned into, and enjoyed, her smart and funny slot - but from week to week I could never quite settle on a plausible way to work her into the column. You bet I wish I had, because I'd now be quietly, modestly (a la Gaybo) taking a slice of credit for the rise of Maura O'Neill.
I gather from last Saturday's Irish Times that the credit mostly belongs to Gerry Ryan, who liked her in that drive-time slot with Barry Lang - actually part of a long line of broadcasting jobs for O'Neill - and got her to join his morning team (presumably chucking-in the teaching along the way). This summer, while Gerry takes a break, 2FM has eschewed the usual reshuffling of desks and microphones and put our woman at the helm of Maura O'Neill (2FM, Monday to Friday), a shorter morning programme. (Gareth O'Callaghan's seniority has some privileges, it seems, so he scoops an extra hour.)
After her years of on-the-job training, it would be patronising to call O'Neill a "natural", but she does have a knack of making it sound like fun. Deep-voiced (they like that in a woman) and quick to laugh, she roams over the difficult range of Ryan-like subjects - Do you remember those silly batwing jumpers from the 1980s? Do you want to save £5,000 by getting a do-it-yourself divorce? - with the proverbial ease.
Along with the excellent Teri Garvey, whose summer spell at Liveline (RTE Radio 1, Monday to Friday) has been a triumph for her combination of levity, enthusiastic engagement ("Mother of divine mercy!") and get-to-the-point probing, O'Neill should be one to watch in future - or listen to, anyway. (And do you remember the time I praised Garvey's work on Godline?)
Then there's Gumgoogly (RTE Radio 1, Wednesday). Richie Beirne and Seamus Calligy's new four-part evening series launched with snippets of song, dialogue, mock-documentary, phone messages, threats, arguments - and a few studio cheap tricks thrown in. My favourite bit found a radio reporter lying in wait, in a ditch, with a pair of badger farmers waiting to ambush the cattle they blame for TB outbreaks in their sett. Strange stuff, but natural and funny in a very different way from the morning with Maura O'Neill.
Natural is not the word to describe nandrolone, the steroid detected in Linford Christie's urine, but funny might be an apt term for some British media efforts at instant exoneration. Christie's longstanding insistence that he's been victimised by prejudice and a whispering campaign has undoubtedly worked in his favour. Broadcasters have rushed to protect the nation's "Linford" in a way with which we're all too familiar - BBC Radio 5 Live, in particular (being the home of jingoistic sport on Britain's airwaves) making headline news of any expert's equivocation about the test and what it detects.
It makes a contrast with the astonishing presumption of guilt which followed Lance Armstrong through the Tour de France. On The Last Word (Today FM, Monday to Fri- day), Eamon Dunphy went so far as to declare Armstrong, without a shred of evidence, as "not, apparently, clean". Greater care should be taken, not only out of respect for individual reputations, but because such snap judgments only lend credence to the cries of "witch-hunt!" when real evidence, as with Christie, does come to light.