Radio Review: Listeners to Monday's Rattlebag (RTÉ Radio 1) knew they'd been sold a pup long before the Taoiseach chose How Much is that Doggy in the Window? as one of his favourite songs. The programme was billed as an interview with Bertie Ahern about his cultural and artistic highlights of 2005.
While no one might have expected or even wished for him to talk at length about some arcane, subtitled Japanese film he saw and loved during the film festival, it would have been nice if he'd shown any knowledge and appreciation of the broad range of artistic events that did take place here in 2005.
In the hour-long interview, for example, he didn't even mention Cork being the EU Capital of Culture last year. That was such a startling omission - even from a cynical vote-catching point of view - that the only possible explanation was that everyone thought they were involved in an entirely different type of programme.
Listeners were expecting the year's cultural highlights as experienced by the Taoiseach, but he appeared to have been briefed that this was to be an amiable trip down memory lane and to stick to a safe path. In the entire programme he gave no indication that he went to a single exhibition, performance, movie or concert all year. Then the programme morphed into a sort of Craggy Island Discs - where the Taoiseach played some of his favourite songs, including Procul Harem's interminable Whiter Shade of Pale - Fr Ted's Eurovision entry, My Lovely Horse, would have fit perfectly into the serendipitous mix.
The interviewer, Myles Dungan, stuck to what sounded like an agreed script where he fed the Taoiseach questions and then let him talk at length in a feel-good, pre-election broadcast sort of way about "the arts". "I think art and artists have a crucial role to play in any civilised society," said Ahern, using the platform for all it was worth. Apropos nothing at all, Dungan ended his arts programme interview by asking: "Who is the third socialist in Dáil Éireann?"
At least the first week of the year brought a slew of new programmes on RTÉ Radio 1 - far too many to review here - but as most are the start of multi-part series there should be space in the coming weeks to get around to them all.
The new eight-part parenting programme, The Other Side of Childhood (RTÉ Radio 1, Wednesday), aims to focus on some of the problems young people experience and it began with the puzzling phenomenon of self-harm. The problem, which typically involves teenagers regularly and secretly cutting themselves with blades or even compasses, is on the increase.
A recent study, according to presenter Mimi Tatlow, indicated figures that suggested that two young people (more girls than boys) in every class would have at some point, and to some extent, cut themselves. There was a panel of psychiatrists and psychologists to try to explain why this occurs - there are often mental health issues - and what help is available. But the most valuable contributions were from teenage girls who bravely explained why they cut themselves and how parents (who by the end of this sobering programme must have been afraid for their own teens) might help.
Gloria described her self-harm as a physical release from the mental pain she was suffering, and her advice to parents was to start talking and not to directly challenge the behaviour in a one-off confrontation. "It's scary and it looks crazy but it's a symptom of a problem."
Life is much simpler in the new comedy-drama series Here's Johnny (RTÉ Radio 1, Tuesday). Drama series - a staple on BBC Radio Four - are such a rarity on RTÉ, and there's precious little comedy on the station, so any combination of the two has to be welcomed.
This five-part series written by comedian Karl MacDermott is about a Tony Soprano-type, New Jersey Mafia guy (Morgan Jones) who is living in Terenure in Dublin as part of a witness protection programme. His cover is that he's a writer - "because in Ireland anyone can call themselves a writer" - but he's finding life in the leafy burbs on the dull side, so he hooks up with another Mafia member to do a bit of housebreaking.
Big, bold, cliched characters, jokes worn till they're a shred - a lot of mileage was squeezed out of the name Fiachra (even to the extent of making it rhyme with Viagra) - and a complexly daft premise. In short, the classic ingredients for a situation comedy.
On the strength of this first part - funny script, first-class acting (especially Michael McElhatton as the gormless bank official neighbour Fiachra) and tight, pacy direction - this is one to listen out for.
