RTÉ, yo’ breakin’ mah heart…and my wallet

The fact that I never really connected with the Toy Show probably explains the irresponsible and irratioinal glee I  feel at the mess the Toyshow Musical people have got themselves into. Not only did they come up with a twee idea that blew up in their faces and cost the licence fee payers   €2.2 million, but they didn’t even tell the relevant people  in RTÉ what they were planning. They just barged ahead and told them after. Choosing, you might say, apology over permission. Although I’m not sure they’ve apologised. They’re maybe rehearsing how best to say it: “We dunno how it happened, folks, but €2.2 million seems to have slipped down the back of our sofa” or “The kids performing in it were sooooooo cute, the question of money seemed a vulgar thing to mention” or maybe “Bloody public – wouldn’t know a smash hit if it hit them in the face.”

Between Tubridy’s salary and the under-the-table brown envelope from Renault and now the amazing exploding Toyshow The Musical, RTÉ appear to have been getting away with financial murder.  So I ask myself “Why?”  Irish people normally like to keep a tight grip on their money in the presence of strangers. So why or how did we let this lot of  strangers grab and squander so much of our hard-earned? But maybe that’s it. These didn’t seem strangers.

Because let’s ‘fess up, we’re all dazzled by the media, especially television.  If you’ve ever been given five seconds on a vox pop about any topic, I’ll bet you couldn’t wait to get home to tell the Boss (aka your wife) what happened and when you’ll be on and to make sure and record it. Television is a magical world, where life is chopped into precise time sequences and is filled with friendly,  see-you-every-day people who in a way become your totally reliable friend. I mean, who else comes into your living-room every single day of the week? They exist in that glamorous screen world, and if you could  without people knowing about it, you’d swim through a lake of snot to get a selfie with them.

Which is why, when we find out they’ve been two-timing us all along and just want us for our money (or your money, to be exact, if you’re talking RTÉ), then we get very very cross, and want to tar and feather these bastards who for years seemed adorable (Yes, Ryan, we really really did love you)  but now have been unmasked as the brazen gold-digger fuckers they truly are.