Culture That Made Me: Presenter Shane Coleman on Irish history, football books, and TV favourites

Journalist Shane Coleman’s teenage self found solace in the music of The Smiths and what would become a lifelong love of history in the novels of Walter Macken, he tells Richard Fitzpatrick

Shane Coleman shares his cultural touchstones.

Shane Coleman, 57, grew up in Dundalk, Co Louth. He was previously business editor and political editor at the Sunday Tribune newspaper. He has written four best-selling books on Irish politics, including Bertie Ahern and the Drumcondra Mafia. He’s a co-presenter on Newstalk of The Hard Shoulder, weekdays from 4-7pm. He also hosts The Tonight Show on Virgin Media Television.

Walter Macken trilogy

The Walter Macken trilogy about three key events from Irish history — the Cromwellian campaign; the Famine; and 1916 and the War of Independence — stayed with me from childhood. The books — Seek the Fair Land; The Silent People; and The Scorching Wind — are told through the eyes of regular people. My mother was quite an Irish nationalist. She gave me the books when I was around 12. They had a massive impact on me, sparking a lifelong love of history. I’m a huge history nerd. I loved them.

Fever Pitch

Fever Pitch, by Nick Hornby.

Nick Hornby’s Fever Pitch is a brilliant book about this ridiculous obsession for a football team, for Arsenal. I was a football nut when I was a kid. Funny enough, in the ’70s, it wasn’t cool to be in to football. I remember people in school looking at you, going, ‘You’re ridiculous to be obsessed with football.’ It was like you were a bore. Now, it’s much more acceptable. This book made it OK to be a football geek. I loved it for that. Obviously, it’s so well written as well.

My Fight for Irish Freedom

Dan Breen’s autobiography, My Fight for Irish Freedom, is written like a thriller. He has you gripped. It’s not long. He had an extraordinary life. It’s about his time fighting in the War of Independence, based around Munster, some around Dublin. There’s a story in it where he’s escaping from British forces by St Patrick’s teacher training college in Dublin. He has a couple of bullets in him. He still manages to scale that wall and escape. If you’ve walked past that wall, you’d know you’d need a stepladder to get over it. It’s a book I go back to every 10 years to reread. It’s mesmerising.

The Smiths

Shane Coleman ‘overdosed’ on The Smiths. Picture: Ross Marino/Getty Images

In the mid-1980s, I got completely in to The Smiths. I saw them live in Dundalk in 1986, my Leaving Cert year, at the Fairways Hotel, about a mile from where I lived. It was that sense of belonging to a tribe, with the flowery shirts — the more feminine the blouse the better — so I’d be taking my mother’s blouses and wearing them with a pair of jeans, which had to be hanging off you; and a pair of oxblood bump-toe Dr Martens shoes.

During college, anytime Morrissey released a new single or album, I’d be at the record store in the morning when it opened to buy the record. I’d spend the day in my flat listening to it until I knew every lyric of every song. Then, I’d re-emerge blinking into the light afterwards.

There’s a Smiths song [ Rubber Ring], where he says, “Don’t forget the songs /That made you cry/And the songs that saved your life/Yes, you’re older now/And you’re a clever swine/But they were the only ones who ever stood by you.” He was predicting that we would outgrow him. I rarely listen to The Smiths or Morrissey anymore. I probably overdosed at the time.

Boss

Mick Clifford, the Irish Examiner journalist, recommended to me a great book about Mayor Daley of Chicago, by Mike Royko. It’s called Boss. It’s an extraordinary overview of American politics. He was an appalling character, in many ways, but the book is fascinating about the way he ran that city and the politics of it, the machinations. It was his personal fiefdom, the way he ran that city. If you’re into American politics, it’s a brilliant read.

The Godfather

Al Pacino and Marlon Brando in the Godfather (1972).

The Godfather I and II are my favourite movies. They’re enthralling. You shouldn’t love the characters, because they do horrendous things, but you’re drawn into their world. I prefer Godfather Part I. I find Godfather Part II too tragic. I love the development of Michael Corleone, how he goes from being idealistic and well-meaning to being a monster. .

Whit Stillman’s trilogy

I love regular drama films. I love Whit Stillman’s trilogy: Metropolitan; The Last Days of Disco; and Barcelona. They were made in the early ’90s, but set in the ’80s about a group of well-to-do New Yorkers and their social milieu. They’re cleverly written, well-done dramas about ordinary people.

Frasier

Is Frasier the best-written comedy TV series ever? The writers had an ability to do farce without going too far. There’s a brilliant scene where they’re on a cruise. Daphne is trying to avoid some leery cruise ship singer; they’re dashing between bathrooms and hiding. It’s hilarious, pure farce, but it’s well done. It goes back to a time in my life when myself and my now wife had just bought our house. Friday nights were about going out on the town; suddenly, Friday nights were sitting in watching Frasier. We loved it.

Brian Farrell

Brian Farrell was the master of the Today Tonight studio.

As a kid, I was massively in to current affairs, watching discussion of the big events on Today Tonight. The presenter, Brian Farrell, was of his time: The natty dress sense, the dickie bow, the formal voice and accent, the obvious intellect and knowledge. He didn’t need to show off, but he had an aura. You knew he was in control of the programme, of the interview, regardless of who he was talking to. Whether it was Charlie Haughey, Garret FitzGerald or a backbencher, he was the master of that studio.

The Vietnam War

There’s an extraordinary documentary on the Vietnam war directed by Ken Burns. He’s a brilliant narrator. He has great access, interviewing senior people involved in decision-making; regular soldiers open up in extraordinary ways, revealing things about themselves, what they did, their shame. It brilliantly tells you the history of the Vietnam war, but it also gives you the personal stories of those American soldiers, the Vietnamese, the Vietcong, the most extraordinary insight.

I Believe in Miracles

My favourite sports documentary is I Believe in Miracles, the story of the Nottingham Forest team that won two European clubs. There’s a huge nostalgia thing. I was around 10 when they won those European Cups. It’s an amazing story. A team like Nottingham Forest will never win the European Cup again; that can’t happen in the modern day, unfortunately. It was David versus Goliath. What made it are the players. They’re so self-effacing, funny, and down-to-earth. Didn’t take themselves seriously. They come across as the soundest blokes ever. It’s a brilliant bit of escapism.

The Rest is History

Somebody recommended The Rest is History podcast to me. I was immediately hooked. It was a series on Britain in 1974, the year Britain pretty much collapsed; there were two general actions, loads of strikes. The lights were going out the whole time; [uncollected] rubbish was piling up. The two hosts are brilliant.

They’re so well researched. Their episodes on Irish history are really good. They bring in Irish historians. They’re sensitive, very careful. Each episode is gripping, entertaining, and informative. It’s heavy material, but with a light touch.