Joe Taylor tells Paul Cullen about his transformation from laboratory technician to voice of the tribunals
He is the man of a thousand voices, the actor whose vocal gymnastics recreate the machinations of the tribunals on our night-time radios. Crooked politicians, secretive accountants, reluctant whistleblowers and pompous lawyers - all have received the Joe Taylor treatment in his better-than-the-real-thing re-enactments of Mahon, Moriarty, Barr and Morris.
Yet Taylor has filled many other roles in his working career before he took up acting. At various times, he worked as a laboratory technician, an agricultural inspector and a phlebotomist until he finally packed in the day job and hit the boards.
Taylor's twin strengths were evident from an early age, growing up on Dublin's North Circular Road, where chemistry and English were his best subjects at O'Connell's Schools.
Leaving school in the late 1960s, before the era of mass third-level education, his career options were firmly focused on practical training with good job prospects. Taking a cue from his scientific aptitudes, he enrolled on a medical laboratory science course in Kevin Street College, now the DIT.
He spent his block release in St Vincent's Hospital, then on St Stephen's Green. In the haematology laboratory, he dealt with patients suffering from bleeding disorders, especially the administration of warfarin.
The drama society at Kevin Street provided Taylor with his first outings on the stage. He also met his wife Margaret, who was studying the same course a year behind him, through the club. Christmas concerts and tours to provincial drama festivals provided the ideal atmosphere for a blossoming romance.
In the early 1970s, St Vincent's moved to Elm Park in Donnybrook, across the road from RTÉ, though Taylor's move to the national broadcaster was still some years off.
Having married in 1972, the couple found they could not afford to buy a home in Dublin and so they moved to Sligo. Margaret got a job in the newly opened RTC in the town while her husband joined the Department of Agriculture's regional veterinary laboratory, testing animals for TB, brucellosis and even anthrax.
At the same time, acting and the theatre consumed ever greater amounts of his free time.
The couple joined the dramatic society in Sligo and then formed their own group, which was heavily influenced by the radical 7:84 group from Scotland. There were sketches for the local football club, a performance at the Carnsore Point anti-nuclear gathering, contributions to the Scór festival and even an appearance at a festival of comedy in Virginia, Co Cavan.
This last outing proved the turning point in Taylor's career. Some RTÉ producers on the judging panel suggested putting his comedy sketches on radio, and shortly after he joined the RTÉ players on a freelance basis.
"I got a year's leave of absence and, at the end of it, packed in the job. It was a big decision but all the signs were good. RTÉ even told me there was no reason to go back."
However, disaster struck a year later when the station decided to axe its repertory. Taylor and seven others were the immediate victims, and their contracts were not renewed.
"It was a traumatic time. I had been working all my life, even in school, and now I found myself signing on with so many others in the middle of 1980s."
Taylor decided he would have to learn "the hassle of the hustle" if he was to succeed in his career change.
He enrolled on a course in local radio production, while actively seeking work as a freelance actor.
"There's an experiment in psychology, where you put two rats in two water-filled buckets. You let one swim away, while giving the other a stick to cling on. The rat with the stick - that's me - will swim longer than the one with no support.
"Occasional work was better than nothing," he decided. "Some actors spend their time saving themselves for the big roles, but I'd ring the Angelus bell if there was money in it."
So he did stints with Rough Magic theatre company, appeared on RTÉ's radio soap Harbour Hotel and wrote children's serials.
Taylor's tribunal break came about when RTÉ presenter Vincent Browne asked the McCracken tribunal if he could record its proceedings. The tribunal turned down the request but it was intimated to Browne that there was nothing to stop the station re-enacting the proceedings.
So began the tribunal bandwagon that has spawned a thousand take-offs, not to mention a long-running comedy revue. With his colleague Malcolm Douglas providing the baritone of the barristers, Taylor has specialised in catching the mannerisms of dozens of tribunal witnesses, from James Gogarty to Liam Lawlor, Ray Burke to Charles Haughey.
It's all a long way from petri dishes and blood syringes, but Taylor has no regrets.
Like many actors, he has to cope with massive job insecurity.
On the other hand, the tribunal industry shows no sign of decline and while he may never attain the millionaire status of some of the barristers involved, we can look forward to his performances for some time to come.