logo
RTÉ spends €360k on TV and radio guest fees in a year

RTÉ spends €360k on TV and radio guest fees in a year

Irish Times14 hours ago
RTÉ
paid out more than €360,000 in fees to guests and contributors for its top TV and radio shows over the past 12 months.
More than a third of the cash was spent on
Patrick Kielty's
Late Late Show
where €128,500 was paid for appearances on the Friday night TV programme.
RTÉ said that money was shared between 100 different guests across 30 episodes, with an average payment of nearly €1,300.
However, they said in some cases, a single fee covered bands or musical acts, so some of the individual payments were for multiple people.
READ MORE
A spokeswoman for the broadcaster said the guest fees were a 'necessary and industry standard part of production'.
Their next highest bill was for Today with
Claire Byrne
where guest costs came to more than €68,000 between July 2024 and June 2025.
RTÉ said that covered appearances by 1,270 different contributors with the average payment working out at just €54.
There were guest bills of €48,500 for the
Brendan O'Connor
Show with 642 guests paid about €75 each for taking part.
[
RTÉ's Liveline listenership dipped by 8,000 before Joe Duffy departed
Opens in new window
]
Morning Ireland ran up €39,000 in costs with an average payment of about €63 for 624 people who contributed to the show.
The lowest per-guest fees were on RTÉ Drivetime where about €28,500 was paid to 638 guests, equivalent to roughly €45 per person.
The broadcaster's second highest bill for guest fees was for Today with Claire Byrne. Photograph: Conor McCabe
The average payment for an appearance on Sunday with
Miriam
was €147; overall costs were €5,868 for 40 contributors.
Other guest bills included €21,500 for the
Ray D'Arcy
Show, €12,277 for Prime Time, and €5,554 for the Six One News.
There were also small costs of €952 for the Nine O'Clock News and €3,077 for current affairs show Upfront, which was cancelled earlier this summer.
RTÉ said they could not provide details of costs for the
Tommy Tiernan
Show as it was made by an independent production company.
[
The show mustn't go on for RTÉ underperformers, say RTÉ news staff
Opens in new window
]
They said fees were paid to guests and contributors, including local and international journalists, artists, and musicians for the time they gave up taking part in a show. However, people promoting films, albums, programmes, or books were not usually paid nor were political representatives who appeared on TV or radio.
A spokeswoman for RTÉ added: 'Contributor fees are a necessary and industry standard part of production to add strength and depth to a wide variety of programmes and content from expert opinion, to on the ground reporting from war zones and musical contributors for entertainment programmes.
'RTÉ seeks a variety of contributors from a diversity of backgrounds and pays them accordingly for their expertise and time which enhance our offering to the audience.'
Orange background

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Comments

No comments yet...

Related Articles

Colin Sheridan: Stephen Colbert's axing brings to mind the lack of political satire here
Colin Sheridan: Stephen Colbert's axing brings to mind the lack of political satire here

Irish Examiner

time3 hours ago

  • Irish Examiner

Colin Sheridan: Stephen Colbert's axing brings to mind the lack of political satire here

To most of us this side of the pond, Stephen Colbert exists as a series of funny clips on social media. Unless you live, or travel regularly to America, it's unlikely his show — The Late Show with Stephen Colbert — is a regular part of your televisual lexicon, especially as it airs at 11.35pm. Still, for all the obscurity of his existence relative to us, one could argue he's never been as popular. President Donald Trump is the gift that never stops giving to monologue makers, and if there's one thing Colbert can deliver with panache, it's a damn good monologue. Perhaps, too good, because his nightly shrine to shot glasses of satire and political punch‑drunk comedy has been abolished. CBS, citing financial woes, has slated the final curtain for May 2026, closing not just Colbert's show but the entire Late Show franchise. It's the end of an era. Since Letterman passed the torch in 2015, Colbert has used that stage as part-sarcastic political commentator, part-sky-high comic helmsman. In the last season alone, he reigned as ratings champ among late‑night talkies, improbably packing more audience than over‑caffeinated hours warrant. So yes, it may have been a 'purely financial' choice, as CBS insists. But that phrase feels about as believable now as our own government saying they intend to pass the Occupied Territories Bill. It comes just after Colbert's attack on a Trump‑Paramount $16 million 'bribe' just days before the axe fell — timing that smells less like coincidence and more like political orchestration. Fellow comic gladiators rushed to his defence. Jon Stewart roared on The Daily Show: 'This is not the moment to give in … you are fucking wrong,' decrying corporate fear over political reprisals. John Oliver lamented the loss of a fertile training ground for future late‑night scribes, calling it 'incredibly sad". What will it mean for our own Late Late Show? For decades, it's been a cross‑population of small‑town sentiment, big‑city celebrity sycophancy, and hushed confessions over talk of tragedies, triumphs, and teddy bears. And every so often it even platforms a proper comedian, albeit one who knows better than to mock a sitting TD. And it's in that vacuum we could all do with a little Colbert. There is little or no political satire on Irish television these days - and doing mediocre impressions does not count. Host Patrick Kielty is a fireman reduced to rescuing kittens from a tree, and it's perhaps because of that that the Late Late Show is weathering whatever storm downed Colbert in the US. Its appeal may lean more cosy than cutting, but the crowds still tune in. Still, you can't help wondering: does Colbert's demise signal the death of the late-night format, or merely the flick‑off of an old lamp? Patrick Kielty's Late Late Show stands as a testament to bland adaptability. File picture: Andres Poveda Streaming platforms, TikTok, 24‑hour news cycles — they're all wedding their viewers to the immediacy of media, stealing them away from the half‑hour a night in front of the TV. CBS isn't the only network hitting budgetary bottom, though it's certainly first to pitch out the stage talent. Even NBC's stalwarts are trimming staff and band members. Attitudes and ad revenue are shifting, fast. But here's the irony: late-night talk shows are vital national psychotherapies. A place where politicians are cut into satire, pop stars unfurl their latest single, and comedians sharpen their wit against the absurd. The loss of Colbert's show leaves a hole — one that's political, comic, and uncomfortably silent. In contrast, The Late Late Show stands as a testament to bland adaptability. It's become more relatable because of, not despite, its softer profile. When guests spill their innermost thoughts or confess shame over missed anniversaries, we nod along, waiting for the former weather girl to tell us how stressful she found Dancing with the Stars. There is little or nothing revolutionary about the formula. RTÉ can point to the Tommy Tiernan Show as a totem of brave programming, but, despite the quality differential, you can be damn sure which darling they'd kill first if given a choice. Which is why the American axing is unlikely to trouble Kielty and co just yet, largely because the Late Late acts like an art project. A loss leader, less about the shining host, more about the cultural heartbeat it captures. Colbert's exit, counterintuitively, does amplify the dearth of political criticism in Ireland, however. How can a nation of storytellers and general smart arses not produce one hour-long piece of satire per week, especially when there has never been more material with which to humorously work? I think I know the answer. And it might be much closer to Trump's America than we like to admit — the politicians would never allow it.

Meet Amanda Cassidy — the Irish crime writer about to take off internationally
Meet Amanda Cassidy — the Irish crime writer about to take off internationally

Irish Examiner

time3 hours ago

  • Irish Examiner

Meet Amanda Cassidy — the Irish crime writer about to take off internationally

Bestselling novelist Amanda Cassidy is a dreamer. She's always been a dreamer — but a dreamer with a streak of pragmatism. 'I don't wait to be hit by inspiration. I sit down and do the work. Because it is work,' she says of her writing. 'But what's really driven me is that I want my children to see what's possible. I want them to know that expression matters, and that you can dream, but you can also deliver and you can also get paid for it all at once.' Dreaming, delivering, and getting paid for it is a philosophy that's clearly working for the Dublin-based 40-something as not only is her fourth novel, The Stranger Inside, about to hit bookshop shelves but her already completed fifth book, Beautiful Liars, due in spring of 2027, has landed her one of the biggest international publishing deals in recent years for an Irish author, with Century in Britain and Putnam, the publishing house behind global smash Big Little Lies, in the US. It's big-league stuff that's likely to turbo-charge her career. 'It's a modern-day retelling of Little Red Riding Hood,' is Cassidy's pithy synopsis of Beautiful Liars. 'It's been so much fun to write. This is the book I'll dedicate to myself.' When I later ask what makes a best-seller, she answers: 'Craft, timing, marketing, and just a little lightning-in-a-bottle type of magic.' Cassidy writes crime, with plots often inspired by events from her own life — a house fire ( The Returned) and a summer in a French chateau ( The Perfect Place). The Stranger Inside, a thrillingly tense page-turner, has its protagonist, midwife Ciara Duffy — 'a woman who's been framed, hunted, worn down, and fearless in equal measures, and she's trying to escape the trap of who she's been told that she is' — driving the gripping narrative. It is, Cassidy says, 'slightly based' on work she previously did in the Irish prison service, in that her experiences in that environment provided the spark of an idea and got the wheels of her brain whirring with 'what it might be like to be there and to be completely innocent of something that you've done, and the stakes are so high that you have to get out no matter what, in order to save your child'. Women are well-known lovers of crime fiction, both as readers and writers of the genre. Cassidy has a credible theory on why that is: 'I think it gives us the power to explore justice, vengeance, vulnerability as a really powerful narrative playground when you're coming to telling stories. 'In real life, women are often the victims of crime, especially domestic abuse, stalking, or sexual violence. I think writing crime flips the script a little bit and women become a solver or the avenger or even a criminal. I think it's a way to process fear and trauma and rage.' Amanda Cassidy at her home in Foxrock, Dublin: 'In real life, women are often the victims of crime, especially domestic abuse, stalking, or sexual violence. I think writing crime flips the script a little bit and women become a solver or the avenger or even a criminal. I think it's a way to process fear and trauma and rage.' Photo: Gareth Chaney Cassidy — a fan of the trailblazing 'queen of crime' Agatha Christie — has always loved words, and throughout her life writing has been a kind of therapy, almost. For her, writing isn't about being productive or clever, she says, 'it's just needing to find this place to go and the world feels a bit too tight, maybe — I'd say writing saved me hundreds of times'. Her background is in journalism (she continues to write for print publications and also works in corporate storytelling, 'helping leaders tell their brand story'). She worked as a reporter for Sky News, Newstalk, and this newspaper, covering crime, politics, and human interest stories. That career 'gave her structure' in her writing and taught her how to edit, script-write, and push for clarity from a story. Lockdown gave her the space to try her hand at fiction, and a friend — award-winning crime fiction author Andrea Mara — gave Cassidy permission to 'write a bad book', advice that 'unshackled' her and allowed her to write more freely. 'What emerged wasn't bad in the end. It was raw and real.' Breaking went on to be shortlisted for a prestigious crime-writing award and was, she says, 'the start of me trusting myself'. Her writing process involves lots of scribbling in notebooks, and walks to mull over characters and potential story arcs. When she begins a new novel, though, she never knows the ending, feeling 'if I tell myself the story, I won't want to keep going'. She does do some plotting but 'for the most part, I want to see what happens'. She says: 'Sometimes I get really excited, thinking, 'Oh God, what's going to happen next?' and my fingers are just typing and I genuinely don't know. So that's fun. And it has to be fun because so much of it is sitting at a computer, writing.' The Stranger Inside was particularly intense to write 'because I was scaring myself writing it — I tend to do that when I'm writing on my own; I'm looking over my shoulder as I'm writing because you get the chills'. The most terrifying moments in the book spring from the humdrum: a momentary lapse, a few seconds' inattention, a bad decision. Who hasn't left their kid in the car for a few minutes to pop to the shop, or indulged in one too many glasses of wine when we're meant to be the responsible adult, or read a text or email we shouldn't? Such everyday slip-ups often have horrifying consequences in the worlds Cassidy creates. Her genius is in showing her readers their own lives in those fictional worlds, tapping into their worst fears and laying bare the potential devastation that can come from a careless choice. Cassidy's fiction holds a mirror up to the reader, scaring them just as much as she has scared herself. She's currently producing a book a year, and it's a schedule that suits her; it helps establish a predictable kind of creative rhythm, 'and it turns writing into a habit'. Amanda Cassidy at her home in Foxrock, Dublin. Photo: Gareth Chaney Cassidy is at her desk from nine to five, with a break for lunch, although she can, she says, write anywhere — on the Luas, in the car, on holidays — and always has her laptop with her. 'It's like my third arm or something.' Nonetheless, she has a work-life balance sussed, partly because she finds writing to be 'really cathartic and therapeutic and relaxing'. It's work but, at the same time, it's not. 'I handed in a manuscript recently and the next day I was like, 'I think I'll write a piece for LinkedIn now.' I was writing because I just love writing. So that part feels to me like relaxing. And then I get out with my dogs and I bring the kids out and go to the beach and that type of thing as much as I can. 'When I first started writing, I was nearly embarrassed to say I'm writing a book because it sounded so indulgent and so fancy. 'But now I get up and I write because this is what pays for my family, my children.' And, for Cassidy, crime really does pay. When I ask if it's possible to make money from novel writing, her response is succinct: 'Yes, it is.' Elaborating, she says: 'If you're dogged and if you're determined and if you're able for rejections, it absolutely is possible to make money writing full-time.' You have to be shrewd, she says, and give the reader what they want. If they're not buying your books, you need to ask yourself why and fix it. You have to make it work. She adds: 'I think, like any job, you're going to get out of it what you put into it. It's very much a long-term career for me and it's a lucrative career for me and it's something that I'm really lucky that I get to do every day — to be able to make things up and get paid for it." Quite literally, living the dream. 'The Stranger Inside', by Amanda Cassidy, published by Canelo, is out now.

"We have a brilliant industry here in Ireland and it's growing all the time." Neasa Hardiman on making Untamed for Netflix
"We have a brilliant industry here in Ireland and it's growing all the time." Neasa Hardiman on making Untamed for Netflix

RTÉ News​

time4 hours ago

  • RTÉ News​

"We have a brilliant industry here in Ireland and it's growing all the time." Neasa Hardiman on making Untamed for Netflix

You may not be instantly familiar with Neasa Hardiman's name, but you will almost certainly be familiar with some of her work. The Bafta and Ifta-award winning Dubliner has been working in film and TV for more than 20 years, directing shows like Happy Valley for the BBC, Jessica Jones for Marvel and now Untamed for Netflix. Neasa spoke to Brendan Courtney – sitting in for Ray – about her career and her new Netflix show, set - but not shot – in Yosemite: "It was shot just outside Vancouver. There's 550,000 square kilometres of untouched rainforest in British Columbia and we were filming in the most remote places. There was one place where we filmed – when you get to the end, you'll see a beautiful waterfall – and we had to get in on horseback." Untamed is currently top of the Netflix charts – a huge feather in Neasa's already pretty well-plumed hat – but what is the show about? "It's six one-hours and it's a complete, nail-biting rollercoaster ride, set against the backdrop of this incredible North American wilderness. And it's actually set in Yosemite – although we filmed it outside Vancouver – and Yosemite itself is huge, it's bigger than the county of Limerick and it has the same kind of thing, this like, wild landscape." Here's something that Neasa revealed to Brendan that you probably didn't know: every national park in the US has an FBI agent assigned to them just in case something happens and, well, an FBI investigation is needed. In Untamed, the FBI agent assigned to Yosemite is a man called Kyle Turner, played by Eric Bana, who's struggling with his own issues even before he's called to investigate the discovery of a body in the famous park: "He's an outdoors man and he's very strong and he's kind of able for everything but he's struck by this very deep grief and he kind of has no language for what he's feeling. And so the deeper story that's there is whether we can learn to live with the kind of powerlessness that we have over the terrible tragedies that will strike us all over the course of our lives." Neasa, Brendan tells us, began her career in RTÉ. She was hired out of college as a designer – she designed the current RTÉ logo – and then became a producer-director, working on Prime Time, the Eurovision and Fair City. She moved into working in the UK, but always stayed living in Ireland: "I have always lived in Ireland. My husband's in Ireland, my brothers and sisters are in Ireland, my kids are in Ireland because why would you not? Do we not live in one of the loveliest places in the world and the quality of life here is amazing." Working in the UK was a step Neasa felt she needed to take in order to get the sort of work she wanted. And when that work is a show like Happy Valley – for which she won a Bafta – you have to think the years spent commuting to the UK were worth it. Now, of course, Neasa is directing dramas for the biggest streaming service in the known universe. How did that come about, Brendan wants to know. "Irish people are natural storytellers. We know how to do it. It's really important that you're able to tell a good story. So we have a head start already. So if you're interested in storytelling and if you're interested in image-making and if you're interested in music and you're interested in technological innovation and all those things and you're kind of thinking, 'I don't know what to do,' consider writing and directing for the screen. It's incredibly exciting and we have a brilliant industry here in Ireland and it's growing all the time."

DOWNLOAD THE APP

Get Started Now: Download the App

Ready to dive into a world of global content with local flavor? Download Daily8 app today from your preferred app store and start exploring.
app-storeplay-store