Denis Lehane: I'm selling the farm to RTÉ for a big sack of money

Is beloved Farming columnist Denis Lehane really about to quit farming for good? 

RTÉ has offered me a king's ransom for my pauper's paradise, and I will take it too, for I know the gravy train won't last forever. Picture: Colin Keegan/ Collins 

RTÉ has put in a bid for the farm. The whole farm. Lock stock and two broken barrels.

They have offered me top dollar, which I had expected from the start.

Indeed, they offered me way over the odds, which I had also expected from the start.

Money is no object in RTÉ, dishing it out is what they do best.

RTÉ is like an ATM — if only you knew the password.

I got word before Christmas that they were looking to expand operations down here in Cork.

So, being a sensible fellow, I put the word out that I would be willing to sell if the price was right. Or in RTÉ's case, if the price was a lot higher than right.

Dublin has gotten too hot around the collar for the flash organisation.

The only thing Dublin is handy for now is the making of Fair City... and RTÉ was never too handy at that.

Fair City is to drama, what an empty bucket is to a hungry horse.

It's like a calf with blood scour... only nobody knows how to cure it.

It's like a shed without a roof... a tractor with only three wheels.

If it was any worse, even the television would probably throw up.

Anyhow, RTÉ has offered me a king's ransom for my pauper's paradise, and I will take it too, for I know the gravy train won't last forever.

Do you want to keep the suckler cattle?" I asked on the day the deal was struck, and hands were shaken.

"Yerra, no," they said, "We might only make money out of them, and that would complicate the whole thing."

RTÉ survives on handouts, you see — they wouldn't know to find a good deal if it sneezed on them.

"And what will I do now?" I asked for I have loads of money and hours to kill.

"Have you ever thought about going to England?" a top dog suggested. "You could be having tea with celebrities every day."

"Well, blast you to high heaven, sir!" says I, "But that sounds like one great idea. It would sure be far better than piking out dung."

"Yerra, such carry-on is all the rage now," I was told by the man with a big sack of money.

"Now, take this big sack of money before I change my mind."

"And what is this extra cash for?" I asked, for t'was all getting out of hand.

"Yerra," says he, "I don't know myself at this stage; we just hand it out and hope for the best."

So now with RTÉ about to buy the most expensive farm in the country, I'm on the pig's back entirely.

I'll be up there with all the high rollers in the organisation, with my pockets full, and my hands as good as idle.

The plan is, of course, to build a new studio down here in Cork so that RTÉ might escape the turmoil of Dublin.

But alas, like expecting an underperforming bull to rise to the occasion when introduced to a new field of fresh cows, I fear it will all amount to nothing.

RTÉ is like an overinflated bag of wind. There's little good in it, and there's an awful danger it will go bang at any minute.

It's not a new plot of land or a new beginning RTÉ needs, only a willingness to pull up the old sleeves and pull down the rockstar wages.