Paschal Donohoe and Michael McGrath overshadowed by a daycare worker on Claire Byrne’s show



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Of the many failures that can cause tension between coalition partners, from political differences to personality clashes, surely there is little more complicated evidence than ministers from different parties who have to share the limelight in the national media. Politicians are generally not noted for their lack of ego, after all, even in times like these.

So it’s enlightening when Finance Minister Paschal Donohoe and Public Spending Minister Michael McGrath appear together on Today with Claire Byrne (RTÉ Radio 1, weekday) for the show’s traditional post-budget phone call. It is also disappointing.

The fact that historically opposing party ministers treat each other with almost irritating respect during the hour-long interview may bode well for the Coalition’s longevity, but is bad news for listeners looking for friction in the air. It also doesn’t help Byrne’s cause. Donohoe and McGrath make such an effective tag team that she struggles to get a glove on them.

It’s the first time Byrne has organized the phone budget, a ritual that dates back to Pat Kenny’s tenure on the Today Show, and now he’s showing his age. During the post-accident era, listening to the radio was a must, a kind of Late Late Toy Show for fans of political embarrassment, as finance ministers tried without conviction to justify harsh cuts to howling callers. But as the government’s pocket threads have loosened, it has become a more routine affair in recent years. The most notable feature has been the stifling clichés with which Donohoe answered uncomfortable questions in his role as (sole) finance minister.

When Byrne opens Wednesday’s show, he does little to change the outdated format, questioning his guests in an almost superficial way. To be fair, the resurgence of the Covid crisis makes it difficult for him to ask deliberately awkward questions without appearing insensitive, although it doesn’t help that McGrath corrects the host’s budget figures in a moment.

However, when Byrne opens the proceedings to the courtroom, the ministerial duo are initially baffled. Deborah, a daycare worker, asks why her work is “not valued” due to the lack of investment in the childcare sector. Deborah’s carefully expressed anger is such that a nervous cough can be heard in the background before Byrne invites McGrath to respond.

The minister of Fianna Fáil gives empty guarantees on the valuation of the nurseries and the recognition of the low wages before Deborah intervenes. “Just to jump in there,” he says, politely but firmly. “I have two jobs, I earn € 17,000 a year.”

She adds that, although the child care sector does not receive protective equipment from the State, she does not have sick pay in case of illness. Byrne huddles, pointing out that “there was nothing to [childcare] workers, parents and providers ”in the budget. In the end, McGrath is reduced to weakly commenting that “I myself am a father” by way of cover.

It’s an unfavorable start, but Donohoe steadies the boat and answers tough questions with self-reliant confidence. When another caller, Jimmy, complains that gas increases and road taxes will make his old Toyota unworkable, Donohoe tries to defuse the situation. “I can hear the love for his car in his voice,” says the Minister, imagining Jimmy polishing his 1999 Corolla. Presumably it is meant to be witty, but since Donohoe repeatedly refers to Jimmy’s make of car, it sounds condescending.

In general, ministers come out unscathed, although it has as much to do with changing circumstances as it does with the generosity of the budget. As Byrne points out, the new financial support looks like the basis for a new lockdown, as is indeed the case at the end of the day. And while her guests avoid any major mistakes, her appearance is revealing in other ways, notably the “we know the best” way that Donohoe is prone to.

Their double act with McGrath may have gotten off to a reasonable start, but they shouldn’t be too congratulated yet.

The sense of out of place arrogance is present elsewhere on Wednesday. When Tánaiste Leo Varadkar appears on the Pat Kenny Show (Newstalk, midweek), he is usually polished, bolstered by an impressive mastery of detail and a touch of frankness. Pressed on the ramifications of the state taking so many loans, Varadkar responds: “There is no perfect answer here.”

However, when Kenny asks why the Pandemic Unemployment Payment (PUP) has been lowered, his guest is suddenly homesick. “I was one of the people who invented the puppy,” he recalls. “It was me, Regina Doherty and Paschal Donohoe on a sunny day in March or April.” Ah, what a time to be alive. Varadkar’s anecdote has the same effect as someone who claims to be the inventor of ration cards.

Once again, the tone is surprising: it is surely premature to brag about crisis management skills during an ongoing emergency.

A more vivid snapshot of how the pandemic has changed lives is heard on Lunchtime Live (Newstalk, midweek), when Andrea Gilligan speaks to people from the embattled live entertainment industry. While arts funding receives a welcome increase in budget, the host discovers that the future looks bleak for many professionals, particularly those on the commercial end of the cultural sphere.

Gilligan talks to John Lonergan, a Riverdance “captain” who recalls that the production’s last production in New York was dramatically interrupted by the Covid outbreak. With packed theaters as a distant prospect, he thinks “it’s going to be pretty hard to get back.” This seems to be an understatement.

As Dave Browne of the Dublin Picturehouse band points out, even at Level 1 of the pandemic plan, musicians cannot perform in full. “People who sell precious instruments, sell their cars,” he says. “There is nothing in its place.”

It’s particularly difficult for practitioners in the world of commercial acting, who, as musician Matt McGranaghan observes, are self-reliant even when they endure the cracks from not having royal jobs. “People are lost,” he says.

It’s a sad but vital article from Gilligan, a stark reminder of how far things have fallen. State endorsements are not a substitute for paying audiences at live events. We are all poorer because of it: Ministerial interviews just don’t have the same appeal.

Radio moment of the week: an important issue divides the Drivetime team

A pleasantly nimble division of the sexes emerges on Wednesday’s Drivetime (RTÉ Radio 1), when Sarah McInerney and Cormac Ó hEadhra collide over eating habits. McInerney talks to journalist Lise Hand about a dying aunt column in a Sunday newspaper advising a working single mother not to be too hard on herself because she had gained weight during the lockdown.

Both women praise this as empathetic and non-judgmental advice, but Ó hEadhra disagrees, calling it “problematic” given the health problems of obesity. When Hand comments that he doesn’t understand that women are overly self-critical, Ó hEadhra replies, “I don’t think I am.”

Fortunately, spirits remain unchanged, and McInerney considers a story to be “a message of hope and goodness.” “And overindulgence,” adds Ó hEadhra. Hand has the last word, however: “Typical man.” Although very funny.

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