POOR ol' Joe Mulholland at RTE must have felt a little like those peasants in the Monty Python sketch who were so gleefully informed that "Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition." Who would have thought that replacing the Met Eireann weather forecasters with more decorative - sorry, professional - broadcasters would have caused quite such a palaver, eventually leading to this week's U-turn? Not since the days when Mary Robinson didn't wear a hat to meet the Pope has The Irish Times letters page been quite so humming with missives from outraged citizens determined to have their say.
Not being personally acquainted with Dr Aidan Nulty or Evelyn Cusack, it's hard to say, but if their mild-mannered and gentle approach to some fairly dastardly weather is anything to go by, I shouldn't be surprised to find they were shocked and appalled by the public outcry their departure has created - all that fuss and strong language.
What is unusual about this particular debate is that everybody seems so completely in agreement that RTE should never have replaced the Met Eireann professionals with what one correspondent called "superficiality and novelty". Has anyone stuck their neck out and said that they'd prefer a bit of superficiality to a seasoned professional when it came to hearing about the next day's rain?
Instead, people have deplored the flippancy with which them up at Montrose dispensed with the weather professionals, and this blase attitude to something as life-threatening as the weather. Fair enough as - for some - weather can mean a life or death situation. But from all the outpourings, one would think that the Met Eireann boys and girls were the fourth emergency service and their replacements, the broadcasters, were saboteurs, out to deliver tricksy misreports of high fronts or storm warnings in order to bring about the destruction of all that is right and good.
In fact the whole fiasco says an awful lot about our country - not least that the weather is up there with religion as something sanctified. Indeed, some of the arguments trotted out for and against the abolition of the Angelus were exactly the same as those about the weather forecasters, word for word.
The weather is something we take very seriously indeed, and rightly so given that it informs so much conversation. And once we start to understand that the Met Eireann pundits at the end of the news are, in fact, the high priests of Ireland's second religion, the hubbub over their removal becomes more understandable. We like an air of authority with our cold air fronts. Eireann expert was the air of authority with which they could deliver news of the weather. It's immaterial that the new crowd would deliver the same details about the weather - we want the person who talks about an isobar to know exactly what an isobar is, physics and all.
Of course, there's divil a bit of difference between an expert weather forecaster and an expert broadcaster delivering the same bit of news: it's not as if there's a spot for the general public to ask questions at the end of the forecast or anything. Does it really matter whether those who deliver the weather report could elaborate at a moment's notice on the possible ramifications of a high front in the Maldives?
It's more that we still respect people with an air of authority: and an authority with an air of authority - well, those are the people we respect most of all. What we certainly do not respect are people who seem to be asking for fame for having no skill at all. There is no enjoyment of people who are famous for being famous - the canny Irish will, quick as a flash, insist they could do that themselves for half the money.
This is in direct contrast to the state of affairs in England, where there's a vast generation of media darlings, babes and acolytes who are famous for little more than being famous. Denise van Outen, Ulrika Jonsen, Zoe Ball and Emma Noble would all fall into this category, and interestingly, the first two of these started life on the weather. While some of these self-styled babes went on to prove themselves very proficient broadcasters and presenters, their first steps to fame were as eye candy, delivering the weather or the results of a game show or whatever. No matter that they didn't have a degree in meteorology, or a background in journalism; the culture in which they rose to prominence was one in which fame was sufficient in itself. The only authority they needed to read the news, appear in a men's magazine or present an awards ceremony was that somebody was paying them an inordinate sum of money to do so.
The calibre of outrage that greeted RTE's change to weather presenters rather than weather experts, suggests we are as resistant as ever to the introduction of this kind of survival of the cutest. Indeed, it was the criticism of dumbing down that was levelled most consistently and successfully at RTE in the past few weeks.
BUT leaving aside the very valid argument against replacing professionals for no good reason, it does seem a little outdated to presume that everybody must be an authority to get time on the telly. It's certainly not representative of real life, and that increasingly is what we use television for - as a reflection of contemporary culture. Yet like it or not, our culture is now about fame and infamy - as the recent emergence and success of VIP magazine shows. We may have to realise that fame is dependent on market forces and the fame machine itself rather than on a degree or qualification. It's not so much dumbing down as getting wise. The Met Eireann folk may be back at the maps in the near future, but how soon is it before we get our very own fame graduates, proficient at nothing other than being famous?
Louise East can be contacted at wingit@irish-times.ie