Radio Review: Even in the handbags-at-dawn world of female bitchiness, wedding dresses are off-limits. The bride can look like a shiny, white Goodyear blimp but her gal pals will be tripping over themselves to be nice. It's different for boys.
Pat Rabbitte said that on his wedding day, Dublin Lord Mayor Royston Brady looked like Buttons - and he wasn't talking about cardigan- fasteners. As Brady was resplendent in a brocade frock-coat, it's safe to assume Rabbitte was talking panto.
But does Royston mind? Not a bit of it, as he was at pains to explain to Joe Duffy on Monday's Liveline (RTÉ1, weekdays). It's all part of the cut and thrust of politics, water off a duck's back, and if you want to get into Leinster House, you have to be able to handle that sort of thing.
He was on Liveline to explain his use of the words "clowns," "waste of space" and "pathetic" in reference to his fellow city councillors. One of them, a very exercised Mary Frehill, took him to task on a shopping-list of issues, from the number of council meetings he has missed to his use of the famous Irish coach for his wedding without prior approval from his fellow councillors. Could it really have cost up to €10,000 to take the coach and six horses out for the morning, as Frehill suggested?
Duffy was having great difficulty pinning these local politicians down to facts. The petty argy-bargy between the two of them about the availability of the Mansion House for a book-launch hopefully wasn't an example of how Dublin city councillors do business. It made for painful listening, Frehill sounding like a head girl ("your language is unceremonial") versus Brady in ready-for-a-scrap mode. He was quoted out of context, he said, but he'd retract it, and he'd pay for the coach if it came to it, though in all honesty Brady didn't sound like he was on bended knee, begging for forgiveness.
"If I wasn't so popular, Joe, we wouldn't be having this debate," he declared.
The following morning, the whole business was clearly on the host's mind in Breakfast with David McWilliams (Newstalk 106FM, weekdays), because even a full frontal (is there any other kind?) picture of the pneumatic-breasted Jordan in one of the tabloids reminded him of Dublin's Lord Mayor. The common denominator, he opined, was that both Brady and Jordan seemed to be famous for being famous. "He's not exactly Rudy Giuliani, is he?" he said, cutting to the chase as he always does.
Sometimes evening music radio can get wearingly hip as DJs fall over themselves to find ever more esoteric tracks. That wailing Azerbaijan number on Wednesday's The Mystery Train (RTÉ1, weekdays) was trying enough but was topped by John Kelly's reverential "good singer, means what he's singing, makes all the difference" comment, which said it all really.
A far more inclusive experience was provided by B.P. Fallon during his stand-in stint for Donal Dineen on Wang Dang Doodle (Today FM, all week). Fallon had the most eclectic playlist - on Tuesday The Bogmen surreally followed Tricky - but he has such an upbeat, infectiously happy attitude that you can't help being brought along even if you don't have a White Stripes album (the shame) and can't name one of the Chicks On Speed.
On The Invisible Thread (Lyric FM, Sunday), Luke Clancy - who, like Fallon has an instantly appealing radio voice - presented the first documentary in a series on venues that provide a legendary experience. It was a particularly well-made, engaging programme, with Clancy featuring Leo's Tavern in Gweedore. It sounds like the most perfect Irish pub and it is owned by Leo Brennan, whose famously gifted children include Enya and most of Clannad. Leo's is the sort of place where anyone can get up and belt out a tune - everybody from Bono to local schoolchildren have sung on the small stage, and Leo, according to Clancy, "still delivers the three-hour set on the weekends with his accordion, fortifying himself in his own showbiz fashion with tea and ginger biscuits".
The programme tried to tease out what makes a great Irish pub. Traditionally, it was "part verbal post office, part sitting room, part drop-in centre", but that has somehow been translated into an Irish pub formula for export, complete with "repro enamel advertising signs and a high nelly in the corner". The real thing is quite different and increasingly rare. Clancy concluded that "a single personality is more effective than any acoustically perfect chamber with a psychologically tested colour scheme". And Leo is that welcoming personality.
Moya Brennan, who has played any number of venues around the world, said her dad's place has "dependable dazzle that no amount of polish can replace". The programme ended as Leo ends every evening, playing Amhrán na bhFiann on the accordion - a rare enough sound in itself.