RADIO REVIEW :THE FINANCIAL crisis moved from b-movie panic to film noir mystery. Anglo Irish Bank chairman Sean Fitzpatrick was pulled in - or invited - on Marian Finucane (RTÉ Radio One, weekends).
"Where were you on Monday night?" she asked. I imagined a desk lamp with a 100-watt bulb and imposing silhouette of Finucane, smoke rings flickering on the wall. "I was at home," he replied. "I was out for dinner with a friend of mine so I got home about half nine. I watched some TV and went to bed about 11 o'clock."
She asked if he spoke with the bank that night. Fitzpatrick said he slept through the phone ringing and awoke at 6am. But his interrogator, who I envisioned in a grey tweed suit, blonde Veronica Lake kiss-curl threateningly draped over one eye, reminded him that while he ate, Anglo's shares were down 46 per cent on the day. "Any indigestion?" she asked. The police chief - or in this case producer Anne Farrell - probably smiled behind the glass. It was vintage Philip Marlowe.
In a reference to that other genre, Finucane asked, "Did you see Armageddon coming?" He replied, "Oh, I did, yeah." A clever colloquial reply to a dramatic question. A friend described his performance as "superb". The core message was clear, simple, repetitive: strong capital position, liquidity as parched as the dustbowl during the Great Depression, and contriteness that walked a line between humbleness and unapologetic self-belief. He would thank the Irish taxpayer for the "bailout" but would not say sorry.
But it was Finucane who was superb. Of the crisis, Fitzpatick said, "We were on the brink. It was a matter of days . . . This was not a shameful position to be in." She shot back, "It was a dangerous position to be in." Fitzpatrick relented: "Of course banks have made mistakes and Anglo Irish Bank has made mistakes because we're in the business of risk . . . But have we been reckless? No we haven't. We cover all our loans in a belt and braces way." I pictured Finucane giving his braces a menacing, theatrical thwang after that.
Fitzpatrick's zingers: "If the Irish banking system collapsed there would have been chaos . . . This was the most important economic decision since the foundation of the state . . . The boards of Irish banks will have to take into account the views and wishes of the taxpayer, the new stakeholder in Irish banks."
Schweet-talkin' us, eh?
Might get a toothache. The best: "The taxpayer has lent the government the sovereign name of Ireland . . . And we are incredibly grateful." Finucane decided to let him go.
On Tuesday's Liveline (RTÉ Radio One, weekdays) there was more Graham Greene mystery regarding companies spraying their logos onto pavements with high-pressure water. It was all shadows and fog: greedy corporations pulling at the purse strings and minds of Joe Schmoe, like a bogeyman from The Third Man leaving ghostly footprints in his wake. Liveline was back on form. Or so I thought. Alas, Duffy was soon to make an ill-judged stumble into more unseemly territory.
It started when Niall, a caller, took offence to a white Cadbury's Wispa chocolate bar logo being jet-sprayed onto the path near Busáras. Duffy hopped the ball immediately. "It's a brilliant idea," he said. "You could argue that it's cleaning our streets. They're one of the best employers in Ireland."
Gerard Mannix Flynn was on the buzzer next. He made James Cagney look like a pussycat. "It's ridiculous that the only clean part of the street is advertising for a corporate individual," he said. "It's a visual pollutant!" Duffy asked if creativity was a regulatory loophole. Peter called in complaining about the Persil washing line that turned up on what he claimed was a listed building in Bluebell. Flynn piped, "If it interferes with the fabric of a listed building there is a problem." Benny, a caller, had no problem with the stencils. "It's typical sour grapes in this country." Flynn shot back, "Ah will you snap out of it with your sour grapes? It's underhanded." Duffy quietly added, mischievously, "It's underfoot."
Flynn said chocolate can be just as dangerous as cigarettes. "Ah, c'mon!" Duffy said. "Give us a break, Mannix. Unless you got a smack of a Cadbury's choc. We'd all be living in Albania if you had your way." What have the poor people of Albania got to do with it? "I thought you were born in Mercer Street. I didn't know you were born in Tirana, Albania." Mercer Street? Tirana? What was he on about? But there was a more surprising twist to come.
Flynn said he will stand for election. "You know what they're gonna drag up against you?" Duffy said. "They're gonna drag up Dockrell's again." Flynn said he was 15 at the time: "I pleaded not guilty. I had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with that."
Duffy said "other people" would drag it up. But, in the absence of "other people", he dragged it up himself.
As they say in film noir, "Why I oughta . . ." I sure know what Cagney would do.
qfottrell@irish-times.ie