For a supposed nation of talkers, Ireland has been ill-served on the radio when it comes to ostensibly idle conversation. In this part of the world, "happy talk" presenters inevitably descend to the zooey realms of so much morning radio; meanwhile, most talk radio is often sullen, and almost always pointed - if not barbed.
That's not to say radio here is never amusing: Gerry, or always pompously po-faced, Joe. But there's nearly always an audible end in sight, so to speak, a purpose that demands careful listening, an argument that invites immediate refutation.
Maybe this sounds like an odd thing to complain about ("too damn much nutrition and flavour in this meal - bring me something insubstantial, for God's sake!"). And perhaps it has been to the benefit of Irish talk radio that it sounds so solid; maybe the legendary trust and intimacy created by broadcasters such as Gay Byrne could never have occurred if listeners had been forced to put up with Gaybo yabbering light-heartedly with, say, newsreader Emer O'Kelly. (Remember the thrill, of taboos being toyed with, that we used to get when they even called each other by their first names?)
But why is it that elsewhere in the English-speaking world, talk radio so readily features presenters taking it handy for a minute or two to chat among themselves - even on a very definitely serious news and sports service, such as BBC Radio 5 Live? If our presenters are going to talk nonsense, it's invariably in monologue, Gerry, or quite unintentionally, Joe.
You see where I'm going with this? Yep, I've heard it.
Repeatedly. Daily, in fact. I've heard a pair of Irish presenters chatting happily and articulately to minimum purpose and great effect. It occurs during the last five minutes of the David McWilliams Breakfast Show (NewsTalk 106, Monday to Friday), when Daire O'Brien comes into the studio to discuss what's going to be coming up next on his own show, The Flip Side (NewsTalk 106, Monday to Friday). (Disclosure: in the few weeks since NewsTalk came on air I have been on it twice. I haven't been paid yet and I still haven't made up my mind about the merits of McWilliams as a presenter. So there.)
Of course, the McWilliams/O'Brien chat has a serious agenda - "Please keep listening to our station" - but it's hidden so beautifully in the graceful folds of O'Brien's voice, without doubt my favourite sound on radio at the moment. O'Brien's a bit smart and funny too - the two of them are - and I find myself sitting there smiling with them and thinking "yeah, lovely, that's great, good man yerself, ha ha" etc., and other Zen thoughts highly suitable to 9.25 a.m., before the reality of life working in The Irish Times intrudes.
And yes, fine, it's a good transition marker between the high seriousness of the McWilliams programme and the more frivolous (but still sharp) mix on The Flip Side. Don't make me get technical, because I don't love these five minutes for what they do, but for what they are. Good men yerselves, as George Hook might say.
The latter's evening drivetime programme, The Right Hook (NewsTalk 106, Monday to Friday), is, like its presenter, an odd job altogether. Its choice and treatment of topics is often very good - the programme did the strongest, clearest package I heard this week about the Community Platform representatives walking out of the PPF. But lately I find myself listening to the show primarily to hear what George Hook is going to say next.
Did you think that no presenter could be more obsequious to his "very distinguished guests" than Eamon Dunphy? Think again: Hook introduced a harmless chat with Eamonn McCann about Mo Mowlam by breathlessly informing us that it was, he hoped, the first of many times the Derry man - of whom Hook said he was a "devoted admirer" - would feature on the programme. Now, I happen to be a devoted admirer of Eamonn McCann too, but would I say it to him on the radio? Presumably a rugger-bugger feels he can get away with such archaic intimacies.
Hook wasn't content with saying it once, concluding 10 minutes later, after McCann had driven home his final point: "Eamonn McCann in Derry, you've just proved why I am your devoted admirer." Indeed.
Then talented NewsTalk reporter, and my former colleague, Mary Minihan,arrived in studio to talk about that day's election shenanigans. "Mary," sez George, "you're more attractive than Charlie Bird. And you've got longer hair."
Well, again, my thoughts exactly. But there's a time and a place. As Hesh Rabkin memorably said of Livia Soprano: "Between brain and mouth, there was no interlocutor."
Hook's interlocutor was at the very least on a long coffee-break. When Minihan quoted Pat Rabbitte's line about Bertie Ahern's face being more ubiquitous than Kylie Minogue's backside, Hook's comment was: "Mary, I won't ask you about your backside."
Really, that's what he said. And he was as good as his word: he didn't ask her one single question about her backside.
Minihan, with the air of someone who is gradually becoming used to this sort of thing, emitted a thoroughly genuine-sounding laugh and said "Good!" Which in a way it was; these remarks - obviously inappropriate, strangely compelling in their unrestrained oddity - didn't interfere with her professional and witty reportage. In fact, for sympathetic listeners, they gave her a certain extra heroic tinge, like a war correspondent under fire. Hey George, what would Mary be like in a flak jacket?
I don't suppose it would protect her from a custard pie.
This week's happenings on the hustings certainly made fools of the journalist-panellists on last Sunday's Media Matters (NewsTalk 106). There they all were, cynically and rather boringly going on about how every encounter on the election trail is carefully stage-managed - every baby carefully screened and so on - and then what did we actually see on this week's TV news? Bertie on Monday in obvious discomfort as Mayo punters cornered him on awkward issues, and Michael Noonan on Tuesday having been faced down in Roscommon by a citizen who was none too sweet on him.
Pie-throwing isn't my particular form of anarchism. And the perpetrators also have to answer to me for further debasement of the election coverage on radio, with time now devoted to righteous disquisitions on the evils of such dessert-abuse.
Personally, I'd rather have heard more about the human rights questionnaire being circulated to election candidates by Afri and Christian Aid. Afri's chair, Andy Storey, did get a couple of minutes on Today with Pat Kenny (RTÉ Radio 1, Monday to Friday). (Disclosure number two: for 15 years I have played football with Andy on a Thursday evening. I am not paid for this and I still haven't made up my mind about his merits as a defender.)
PRESUMABLY the politicians are in agreement that being hit by a pie is a fundamental abuse of human rights, and they would presumably fight for their right to react in some way other than with weary good humour. But it will be more interesting to hear how they reply to other pointed questions from the questionnaire. Would they support the replacement of "direct provision" for asylum-seekers with social welfare payments like those given to other State-dependent people? Would they oppose EU farm subsidies that damage the livelihoods of agriculture workers in the developing world?
In other words, these aren't Mom-and-apple-pie questions to which an average Irish politician could happily tick "Yes" right down the page. If taken up by the media, they actually might spark genuine public debate on issues that matter to people in Ireland and far beyond these shores.
Some chance.