When nature calls, timing is everything

RADIO REVIEW:AS A CURSORY scan of the dial testifies, a lot of people talk crap on the radio. Few, however, do it with the gusto of Sean Moncrieff on last Tuesday's Moncrieff(Newstalk, weekdays). Far from being a lapse by the usually reliable presenter, it was a deliberate move on his part, as he spoke to author Rose George about the icky subject of human waste.

The topic may have been atypical, but Moncrieff’s overall approach was characteristic of his programme. He covered an ostensibly flippant or obscure matter by interviewing George, whose book

The Big Necessity

deals with all things fecal, in the hope of teasing out unexpected aspects to surprise or engage the listener.

The formula did not click. The subject itself was not the problem. Such waste is, after all, an unavoidable byproduct of everyday life, and George spoke illuminatingly on the perils of dung disposal from Restoration-era London to modern-day Africa. Nor was the host’s manner the stumbling block, though he seemed more gleefully naughty than normal as he posed questions such as, “Is poo a resource?” The timing was at fault. Detailed discussions about sewage overflows are more than the average early afternoon listener should be expected to endure as they try to eat or digest lunch.

Moncrieff showed slightly more sensitivity later, when he spoke to writer Nicole Daedone, who was promoting her book, Slow Sex, which claims women are capable of experiencing sensual ecstasy for four months. Mindful of his pre-watershed listenership, the presenter displayed pleasing verbal dexterity as he tiptoed around the explicit terminology: "Men are more goal-oriented whereas with women it's more extended." Such diversions aside, it was a trivial item.

Unevenness is an occupational hazard on the show, but it pays to keep listening. More urgent issues also got an airing, thanks to Henry McKean's report on how drug addiction in Dublin straddles the generations. A Moncrieffregular, McKean can sometimes come across as a tribute act to Paddy O'Gorman, using the same vox-pop formula as RTÉ's roving reporter, but without the pizzazz of the original. In this case, however, he produced a sobering portrait of ingrained poverty and neglect.

He spoke to a grandfather who felt sick if he didn’t use heroin every day, though he kept this fact from relatives. Another user said it was futile to try to stop his seven-year-old twin daughters doing drugs in later life: “You have to let your kids live.” A 36-year-old woman, addicted for 20 years, spoke of her older brother having been in prison so often he was institutionalised. What was he in for, McKean wondered. “Ah, murder,” came the casual reply.

Moncrieff showed off the worth of his show’s broad canvas elsewhere with a feature that reminded listeners that bad behaviour is not confined to modern times. He spoke to urban historian Donal Fallon about the self-styled “animal gangs”, groups of violent street toughs who roamed the Dublin slums of the 1930s. Armed with bayonets and hidden razors, the gangs fought running battles with leftist republicans, worked for loan sharks and generally enjoyed a good scrap among themselves; one such encounter saw the arrest of 36 teens. A fascinating glimpse of a forgotten past, the discussion dispelled the notion that Dublin in the rare auld times was an idyllic place.

That particular myth took another battering on The John Murray Show(RTÉ Radio 1, weekdays). Murray spoke to the Winston family, who for generations lived in Dublin's notorious Henrietta Street tenements.

Annie, the 87-year-old matriarch, described the overcrowded and underheated conditions in which she brought up her large family. When she recently returned to her old home, as part of a forthcoming TV3 series, she felt little nostalgia. “I felt awful, I wondered how did I manage.”

There was more to the piece than poignant memory – it also contained historical context. But, unlike Moncrieff's take on tenement life, Murray's item dominated his show, leaving little wriggle room for error. With only an hour to play with, the programme quickly runs out of steam if the topic du jour grows stale, as is the case with the frequent log-rolling tie-ins with RTÉ's Operation TransformationTV series. Murray has an instinct for the unusual that rivals Moncrieff's, but he could learn from his Newstalk peer's snappy pace.

Singer Mary Byrne's chat with Tom Dunne(Newstalk, weekdays) was a fine example of the benefits of brevity. Having found fame on The X Factorlast year, the 51-year-old ex-supermarket worker from Ballyfermot might seem an unlikely star, but her 10-minute interview showed there is more to her appeal than belting vocals.

Byrne told how, after years of low self-esteem, at 45 she had an “epiphany” (she sounded almost embarrassed at using such a term), realising that she was happy with her modest but self-containted life. Deciding everything else was a bonus, she found the confidence to embark on her late-blooming career. Had she gone on longer, Byrne’s relentless cheeriness could have worn thin, but in this brief setting, her grounded positivity was infectious and inspirational.

It’s all a matter of timing.

radioreview@irishtimes.com

Radio moment of the week

Given their early start, anchors of morning news shows can be forgiven for the odd slip of the tongue. Even so, Chris Donoghue, the co-presenter of Breakfast(Newstalk, weekdays), produced a doozy on Thursday when, flagging a report on infertility, he spoke of a possible solution coming in the form of "UVF treatment". Next up in health matters: ulcer says no.