August 11, 2003
Kulturkampf
There wasn’t much in the Sunday Independent today apart from a tribute to Kylie Minogue’s arse and about a hundred pages devoted to how uninterested the paper was in the wedding in France. Eoghan Harris bitched about RTE again (their failure to hang the US flag behind the newsreader during news bulletins being yet another example of the national broadcaster’s rampant anti-Americanism) and observed that he disliked anyone with three names and an arrogant air. He was thinking of RTE’s Philip Boucher Hayes, but he might have some explaining to do the next time he shares an elevator with fellow columnist Conor Cruise O’Brien.
He makes the point that RTE should be less Dublin-centric and reflect the opinion of people around the country. Fair enough, but he might give the same advice to some of his fellow writers on his own paper. John Drennan’s speculative piece on a cabinet reshuffle betrays the usual insulated Dublin bias.
No one knows what Eamonn O Cuiv does or if he even exists. If O Cuiv or his ministry are not a figment of our imagination, it’s time for this egotistical windbag to go.
I.e. Drennan has no idea what he does, couldn’t be bothered find out, ergo: he can’t be any good. His suggestion?
… Mary Coughlan could slot quite nicely into something ‘nice’ but challenging like Arts, Culture, RTE and the Gaeltacht – plenty of grants there for her Donegal constituency.
Ah yes, nothing like a patronising load of tripe – he doesn’t even bother with agriculture (doesn’t affect Dubliners except when the farmers drive their tractors through the city). Given the choice between the Independent’s pre-occupation with cultural analysis of Kylie’s bottom, Eamon Dunphy’s drinking habits, Michael Flatley’s lovelife and the social inequities of a Hello! Magazine exclusive, 150 euro a year to RTE for a TV licence doesn’t seem quite such bad value after all (Gerry Ryan notwithstanding).
None of the media complain at all about TV3 because, let’s face it, what’s the point. I remember when TV3 was about to be launched. One of the founders enthused about how they would shake things up. He gave the example of the weather forecast – RTE’s forecasters were like the guys on those old Open University maths programmes - TV3’s will be so different, he promised. And, boy was he right. A juggling monkey on a unicycle would have more credibility (and be infinitely more watchable) than Martin King (I’m mad, me!) who thinks that, by reading out requests during the forecast (e.g. Hi Bobo, I think you’re a ride and I’ll deffo give you one after the disco next Saturday, luv Jackie) , it somehow makes the weather more interesting. For f*ck sake, if I wanted that sort of meaningless drivel, I could just turn to Sky One. Just last night, they had a news item on the Ploughing Championship in Tullamore, on the grounds of Charleville Castle. The reporter announced that they were in fact in Kinnity Castle, which is about 20 miles away. It was probably a Freudian slip – it’s a favourite weekend retreat of Dubs who think that paying over the odds for a room in a big house in Offaly for the weekend somehow makes them country squires. Mar dea.
Posted by Monasette at August 11, 2003 09:30 AM | TrackBack