Denis Lehane: My Late Late Show call-up
Irish Examiner Farming columnist Denis Lehane has become the latest Irish celebrity to rule himself out of the Late Late Show top job.
There's no point in denying it any longer... for you have probably heard the news already.
Yerra, it's true.
I have been asked to take over the Late Late Show... and I might do it too if nothing better comes along.
I got the call the other evening.
Actually, if truth be told, my missus took the call, for I have a deep aversion to answering phones.
I'm allergic to phones. I hate them.
And, of course, I told the woman on the other end of the line as much when I finally took hold of the receiver.
"'Tis about the job of presenting The Late Late Show Mr Lehane," says she, ignoring my complaints about how phones are a terrible nuisance.
"We'd like you to do the job, Mr Lehane. You have the common touch. You have an ear to the ground, and your feet are firmly planted in it. We like your style, and as you know, we are, of course, all very loyal fans of your weekly column in Thursday's Irish Examiner Farming supplement."
"Go on," says I, for by this point, she was starting to speak my language.
"Well, the pay is only mighty, and we could get the farm relief to do your farming jobs on a Friday evening.
"All we need from you is to be on the half-five bus to Dublin each and every Friday evening.
"You would need to be here in Donnybrook by 9:30pm so as to interview Liza Minelli or somebody of that ilk.
"Your bus ticket will be paid for."
Well, I expected nothing less from the national broadcaster.
"Very good," says I, "But where's the catch?"
For, as with everything in life, there is always a catch. A fly in the ointment. A sting in the tail.
"There is none," says she.
But of course, I knew different.
"I'll do it so," says I. "And the first thing I will insist on is that we get rid of that blasted Toy Show. Sure, 'tis a right pain in the backside."
There was an audible gasp, and the phone line seemed to cut out for a second.
"But you can't do that Mr Lehane," she insisted, exasperated. "You must stick to The Late Late Show format."
"Yerra formats are like doormats," I said. "You're better off shoving them to one side on your way in."
I was talking sense, of course, as usual.
"And children get enough things at Christmas without me pandering to them further. I can't be entertaining children on the telly, I do enough of that at home already.
"I'll do the programme only if we get rid of the Toy Show." I was adamant on that front. That old nonsense has to end.
"But it's a ratings winner," she cried down the line.
"And what would you replace it with?" she then asked, as perplexed by my quite logical thinking as be damned. You'd swear 'twas the moon I had asked her to get rid of.
"Well of course, I'd replace the Late Late Toy Show with the Late Late Agricultural Show. Sure, that's where the real money is."
There's nothing like a good Agricultural Show.
"But what about the children?" she asked.
"Sure, what about them?" I replied. This RTÉ crowd seemed to have children on the brain.
The Late Late Toy Show is only a mickey mouse of a thing. Whereas, The Late Late Agricultual Show, with all guns blazing, would give RTÉ far more bang for their buck.
What bigger thrill could there be before Christmas than to see one of those all-new autonomous John Deeres or methane-powdered New Hollands thundering across the Toy Show studio at full throttle?
And we could even coax on a few pedigree cows, sheep and goats too, for good measure.
The only difficulty might be finding an audience who could contain themselves amid all the excitement.
"Oh, I'm not sure about steering the Late Late Show in a farming direction Mr Lehane," says she. "I'll have to talk to the producer..."
"Talk to the Pope if you like," says I, for 'tis all the same to me.
But I warned her before I hung up, that the only way I would go on the Late Late Show would be on the back of a tractor.
