Never mind the b****** bleeps

RADIO REVIEW: THANKS BE to **** for the asterisk. It's useful in print, as you will see, and there are many ways around it on the radio, if you have pre-recorded a programme or have a few seconds' delay and can bleep. But sexually charged and profane language is seeping its way onto the wireless. And, before you ask, it's not all potty-mouthed Gerry Ryan's fault either.

Still, turning the dial to The Gerry Ryan Show (2FM, Mon-Fri) is a good, if slightly easy, place to start. This is the man who says "s****!" a lot (with an "e" on the end) and brought us the image of "tapeworm porn" some months ago. His colourful language has allegedly raised eyebrows upstairs at Montrose, but few expect him to tone it down.

Nob Nation did an item about "culchies" to celebrate the next Taoiseach. (See what I mean about this show being a good bet?) Think Spitting Image on the radio. An Albert Reynolds impersonator did a song celebrating the "Cursin' Culchie" about the (accidental, I should add) fire at his pet food factory. Warning: satire is frequently in bad taste.

It went like this: "Who in the mother of Jaysus curse a f*** of it, burnt this stupid **** of a b******'n' **** of a dog food factory down?" I would like to make crystal clear the man himself is eloquent and does not use the foul language that his comedy doppelganger implies. Also, though it was obvious what the words actually were, they were all bleeped.

On the more puritanical American airwaves people will say, "I was p***ed!" They mean annoyed - and it doesn't have the same profane meaning here - and frequently say "darn!" instead of "damn!" which is regarded as more blasphemous. Maybe because it's a second cousin, once-removed of damnation. Google "God Damn America!" for more.

The Ray D'Arcy Show (Today FM, Mon-Fri), I know as a contributor, can frequently tread the line between colloquialism and what are considered "bould words", but it depends on the context and who's saying what to whom. It's a young audience, the kids have been shipped off to school and it's not the same demographic as, say, John Bowman.

When Today FM moved to swanky new offices on Digges Lane a few weeks ago, D'Arcy said, "S****!" (again with the "e") to get it out of his system. When talking about relationships and sexual adventures we have found ways of skirting around X-rated words by mixing up the letters. "Buck" isn't naughty. Nor is "Fuddy." At first glance.

If you have ever stubbed your toe, you will know that not all bad language is gratuitous. It is also useful to communicate to young people using their language. D'Arcy's road safety adverts, which used real-life stories broadcast at appropriate times, told drink-and-drivers, "Don't be a f***ing eejit!" Flipping giblet would not have worked the same.

On Wednesday's Moncrieff (Newstalk 106-108, Mon-Fri), Sean Moncrieff read texts from angry listeners. Some of them were arguably far more offensive than simple bad language. Here's one on Limerick gangland warfare: "Move them all into the same estate and let them sort it out. Let the last man standing do life for all their murders." Moncrieff didn't dignify that with a response and, presumably, read it on the basis that that kind of sentiment, while it represents a certain brand of Newstalk listener - of which there are too many - is an opinion he/she is entitled to. But another texter said of the gangs: "It's scumbags killing scumbags." That level of response is even less likely to get complaints.

Moncrieff also did an item about Lunt, a village in Merseyside. He said, "A village called Lunt has a problem. Can you guess what it is?" Um Yes, you guessed it. Vandals keep changing the "L" to a "C". "How are people feeling in Lunt?" Moncrieff asked one resident, coyly, name-checking the town again, in case we didn't get it first time around.

Peter Sheridan let slip the odd unbleeped profanity on Saturday's Marian Finucane (RTÉ Radio One, Sat & Sun), talking (and talking!) about his time as a drinker when he was, as he said, "p***ed". But even that couldn't liven up this self-indulgent boreathon about his alcoholism, his learning to relinquish control and, finally, his redemption.

"Is it true you lost two of your kids, kind of, in Connemara was it?" Finucane asked. He replied, "It's actually a funny story and even at the time it felt funny . . ." It was like a thousand other Irish drunk-in-a-ditch stories, but he split his sides telling it. "You know my cigarette smoking story?" Sheridan asked. My hunch that we would know it proved right. The journey to sobriety is brave and perilous, but almost always a far more interesting tale of self-discovery for the protagonist. "You're working your willpower on it," he said. "I have huge resources of that. You probably know that from my personality. I'm a very driven person. Always have been." I didn't doubt that for one interminably long minute.

Sometimes it's the words surrounding the **** that we can do without.

© 2008 The Irish Times

This article appears in the print edition of the Irish Times