SOME PC types might quibble at the language and methods employed, but still it was great to hear from Carmencita Hederman, Dublin's former Lord Mayor, that the Mansion House doesn't get carried away with seasonal charity and goodwill and all that falderal.
The forum was that veritable confession booth for Dublin 4, the Sunday Show. (New Year's resolution: I must start attending Mass, or anything else that can start at noon on a Sunday.) Andy O'Mahony and the usual accents were stack into a probing discussion of dinner parties, including the vexed question of how to get rid of unwanted guests.
Intriguingly, this put Ms Hederman in mind of her glory days as Dublin's first citizen, and of the Mansion House Christmas feast for the "down and outs" (her quaint phrase). Seemingly, once mid-afternoon rolls around and the Lord Mayor has put in an appearance, those serving dinner are understandably keen to get on home to their own kith and kin - it being, after all, Christmas Day.
So, here's the trick: the D&Os are all instructed to get to their feet, all the better to belt out interminable verses of Auld Lang Syne. Once the good old sing-song is done, those D&Os unfortunate enough to be new at this lark and unaccustomed to turning around before sitting down may well find themselves sprawled on their derrieres. You see, amidst the musical excitement the staff have spirited the benches away.
By God, but that's a good one, isn't it? The rest of the panel seemed to be lost in thought, trying to think of how this undoubtedly effective course of action could be modified for more salubrious dinner settings.
Their silence notwithstanding, the rapier wit with which these people can move a conversation through topics that many people might regard as tenuously related, at best, makes one wonder why John Waters was always giving out about "D4" and all that.
Perhaps he has seen the light, because Waters's first radio play, Holy Secrets (BBC Radio 4, Monday) doesn't pillory PDs, but explores the relatively safe terrain - as seen from, say, a Donnybrook pub - of sexual hypocrisy and scandal in small-town Ireland. But the drama is subtle, engaging and (need it be said?) far from safe.
Waters maps the terrain superbly, and it has some striking landmarks: a priest dead in suspicious circumstances, hints of incestuous passions, even an oath sworn on a corpse at a wake. In spite of the sensational material, however, the author draws without flourishes; tailoring the tale carefully for the medium, he unfolds it with quiet monologues, whispered conversations, telling telephone calls.
Apart from all the lonely passions, Waters exposes the nexus of power among ecclesiastical, legal and medical bases. A phone chat between a bishop and a doctor, in which each carefully checks the limits of what can remain unspoken, is worth a rake of newspaper columns on the subject.
Another columnist, a Mr Leonard of Middle Abbey Street, had a play on last Tuesday to finish RTE Radio 1's season of posh drama. Tragically, I missed that one. However, I caught the play in the station's more down-market Friday slot, Kevin McGee's The L Word, and it was a pleasure.
Being a Yank, I thought the L word was "liberal". But no, this was a sort-of, kind-of story about luv, via Jill and Dan. Jill writes and produces absurdly unlikely humorous radio ads, and doesn't like to talk about it; Dan writes and produces absurdly unlikely pretentious plays, and likes to talk about nothing else. (Jill nearly admits to Dan what she does for a living when he happens to compliment one of her ads, until he explicates further: "Of course, it's a radio ad, which means it's just bad with a great big ribbon on it.")
You won't be surprised to hear there's a come-uppance involved; this could have been called "Revenge of the Copywriter". The play gets there via a clever, tidy structure and some hilarious moments, shepherded quite nicely by director Daniel Reardon. McGee lets the L word out of the bag briefly near the end, but stuffs it back without a hint of sentiment for an explosive finish. Well done.
Although variations on this column will be appearing over the next couple of weeks in the guise of seasonal previews and reviews, this is the last weekly round-up of 1996. To those programme-makers, readers and correspondents who made it such an interesting 12 months, have a happy!
