Ivan Yates swaps ranting for raving, showing unexpected knowledge of nightclubs
has been many things, be it broadcaster, businessman or government minister. But as he acts as guest host of
The Pat Kenny Show
(
Newstalk
, weekdays), Yates reveals another, more surprising side of his personality: if he's to be believed, he was a bit of a clubber in his day.
At the very least, the presenter displays an unexpected awareness of the Irish nightclub scene, past and present, as he bemoans both the declining number of venues and, perhaps more predictably, the more abstemious social lives of young people today.
'Gen Z is ditching late-night drinks for an early-morning run, would you believe it,' he says. 'Partying has gone out of fashion.'
He points to the precipitous drop in nightclubs in Ireland since 2000, from 522 then to 'a meagre 83' now. 'I assume the hormonal interest in intimacy and romance hasn't changed, so where are people meeting?'
READ MORE
The pub, answers the Newstalk staffer Ciara Treacy, who enthuses about thriving bars full of crowds until after midnight. 'That's still early,' Yates scoffs with the dismissive air of a veteran raver. 'I'd only be getting going at two in the morning back in the day.'
It's not the only time he shows off a familiarity with nightlife. During an earlier discussion about the high price of insurance, he again refers to the falling number of clubs, recalling how an establishment in his native Enniscorthy, in Co Wexford, had to close because of rising premiums, despite being 'absolutely packed to the rafters with people on a Saturday night'.
In fairness, the 65-year-old host notes that much of his information comes from his grown-up children rather than from first-hand experience. Given he was a
Fine Gael
TD from the age of 21, it's probably too much to hope for that he might also be an aficionado of old-school acid house.
His theatrical decrying of young people's sober socialising is much more on-brand. Hearing about romances being formed at easygoing sports groups known as run clubs, he affects a perplexed tone. 'For the running, is there a dress code or does it all hang out?'
Slagging off contemporary trends has always been as crucial to Yates's would-be iconoclastic persona as ribbing liberal shibboleths, as when he plays the unreconstructed male chauvinist for the benefit of the psychotherapist Stephanie Regan: 'Women do nag a lot.'
Such waggery marks a change in gear from Kenny's micromanaging instincts, as is surely the intention, though the novelty soon wears thin.
But Yates also finds time for more in-depth analysis of current issues, from nationwide variations in cancer treatment to the rising number of vacant teaching posts.
And his irreverent and informed sides sometimes come together to good effect, such as during Monday's conversation with new TDs about their time in the Dáil so far. The host draws on his own years as a deputy as he quizzes Sinéad Gibney, of the Social Democrats, about the right balance between constituency work and parliamentary duties, or talks to Albert Dolan, of Fianna Fáil, about the importance of communicating with local voters.
On learning that Dolan has yet to open a constituency office, Yates adopts a faintly scolding tone – 'Okay, that's a bit tardy' – before mocking Barry Heneghan's roll call of relatives who help the Regional Independent TD. 'You needn't namecheck your whole family. You're starting to sound like Michael Healy-Rae,' the host says, chuckling.
But the discussion is marked by a genial collegiality, while Yates tempers his sweeping pronouncements with flashes of self-deprecation, as he recalls arriving in Leinster House as a newly elected TD. 'I was making it up as I went along,' he says, 'I'm still doing that.'
Who knows, he might be a clubber yet.
A less showily mischievous atmosphere permeates Yates's former berth on
The Hard Shoulder
(Newstalk, weekdays), where
Kieran Cuddihy
conducts affairs with an easy confidence. Not that Cuddihy eschews humour: on Monday he feigns indignation when describing the
scoreboard error
at the All-Ireland hurling semi-final between Kilkenny, his home county, and Tipperary as a 'stitch-up' that cost the Cats the match.
But this knowing style is more light-touch than heavy-handed. He examines the issue of
retail price hikes
with Jennifer Whitmore, Social Democrats TD for Wicklow, who talks of the need for her party's Dáil motion on transparency of supermarket profits at a time when rocketing grocery bills are squeezing ever more families.
Cuddihy hears out his guest but can't resist a gentle dig. 'It's well for you. In Wicklow you'd just be eating lamb,' he says. 'In Monaghan they'd be living on a diet of mushroom and stones.'
In a voice that can only be called sheepish, Whitmore replies that she hates lamb – to the host's undisguised delight. 'Oh my gosh, if Jennifer loses her seat in the next election, I'll play that clip.'
Of course, Cuddihy's manner changes depending on the topic. He is purposeful during his interview with the chairwoman of the
Road Safety Authority
, Anne Graham, on the flatlining number of road deaths, while he takes a sensitively inquiring approach during his discussion about the reported increase in self-generated child-abuse images.
The latter item is as disturbing as one might imagine, the determinedly factual tone of the host and his guests adding to the impact. Cuddihy admits to a naivety about the seriousness of the problem, sounding genuinely alarmed on learning that half of the children who took intimate photographs of themselves were aged between four and 12. 'Really young kids,' he gasps. Performative outrage can make for splashy radio, but sincere shock has more effect.
Moment of the week
Broadcasting live is stressful enough, so kudos is due to
Shane Coleman
and
Ciara Kelly
on
Newstalk Breakfast
, who sound as if they're talking over a loud old dial-up modem as they open Wednesday's show. 'You probably can hear that glitch in our output at the moment,' Coleman says contritely. 'It's not your radio. You do not need adjust your set.'
Despite their voices sometimes resembling a stuck CD, the pair gamely soldier on, though the fault seems to throw their delivery: Kelly talks about 'the warm smell – sorry, spell – of weather'. By the end, however, the problem has been resolved. 'The glitch is f-f-f-f-fixed,' Coleman jokes.
But they're not out of the woods yet, as Kelly again fluffs her lines. 'Shane and I will be back on the ... on the Breakfast ... on the Newstalk Breakfast,' she stumbles before finally finding her feet. 'I'm the one glitching now.' It's just one of those days.
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