Charity work can shield scoundrels like Savile and Armstrong from scrutiny

A RADIO advertisement earlier this year had Micheál Ó Muircheartaigh, Bryan Dobson, and Matt Cooper talking to each other in hushed tones.

They seemed to be nerving up one of their number to tackle something extraordinarily difficult. That something turned out to be articulating the name of a disease.

“Prostate cancer. There. I’ve said it,” Matt Cooper’s voice said bravely. (He sounded like an escapee from the Famous Five. They’re the only people I’ve ever encountered who say things like “There, I’ve said it.”) He then egged another one of the guys to do the same. At the end of the ad, they all seemed ridiculously pleased with themselves and noble with it. The point seemed to be that if they could get the courage to name the disease out loud in company, they might also have the guts to go to a doctor and have themselves checked out for evidence of the disease. As the Irish Cancer Society, which was behind the ad, would want. Lots of lads who might otherwise never thought of their prostate until it turned nasty on them, no doubt went and took preventive action. That was the experience following the death of reality TV star Jade Goody. The numbers pitching up for cervical smear tests rocketed, because of the publicity her dying gave to the dangers of cervical cancer. An increase in early detection in excess of 19% was recorded the following year. Literally thousands of lives were saved, as a result, and a young woman who in life was a loud-mouthed vulgarian ended up, in death, doing immeasurable good. Because she was — briefly — famous.