Unwelcome interference

Rose-tinted memories of the Provisional IRA in Ealú; rural bar scenes to rival Flann O'Brien's in It Happened One Night and unintentional hilarity in The Restaurant.
By Dermot Bolger I have only ever heard Alan Dukes speak once in public last autumn at the launch of Brian Lynch's novel, The Winner of Sorrow. The fact that this book – by perhaps the most under-rated Irish poet alive and dealing with the disturbed life of William Copper – has become regarded in the past six months as an Irish classic speaks volumes for Mr Dukes' power of persuasion. TG4 must regard him as a deeply persuasive speaker too, because he was basically the only person they put forward to represent the vast, overwhelming majority of decent Irish people who do not delight in sectarian murder on their cheesy documentary Ealú (Thursdays 10.30 and Saturday12.05am).
To be fair to Ealú, it didn't go too far out of its way to be seen as anything other than a celebration of the Provisional IRA. As one speaker put it, the democratically elected government of the Irish Republic (although naturally he did not call it that) needed bringing down a peg or two in the 1970s and the “movement” needed a good boost. The boost came in the shape of an Irish citizen being kidnapped and forced to help three criminals to escape, and for threats to be made against the same citizen if he fulfilled his duty as a citizen by testifying about these events in court. The IRA as portrayed by TG4 in Ealú were a merry bunch, and nobody got hurt in this little whiz which was generally a bit of craic and a moral boost. The fact that the same movement that planned this escape was openly and happily murdering innocent citizens in those same years didn't really come into the picture, apart from the odd token appearance by Mr Dukes now and then. However, why let inconsequential bits of blood and shit and skin  scraped off the walls of pubs in Birmingham get in the way of a good story? These forgotten victims of the colleagues of the men sprung from Mountjoy are as unimportant as the five protestant civilians randomly killed by Bic McFarlane and other IRA members two years later when they blew up the Bayardo Bar in Belfast and decided to machine-gun the survivors trying to escape.
Ealú was a piece of candyfloss for the eye for that section of Irish society who still think in their hearts that the only good Protestant is a dead Protestant.  Not, of course, that the nice, airbrushed world of TG4 see it like that. Recently we had to witness the sickening sight of the sectarian murderer Michael Stone turning up on the Late, Late Show to announce that not only was he an artist but that formerly he had been a soldier. We have reached the stage today when anyone can call themselves an artist (and Mr Stone may well be a good one) but fuck me if he was ever a soldier. He was no more a soldier than the evil gobshites who bombed Birmingham, Dublin and Omagh. There is absolutely no difference between these three identical sets of murderers, and I see no reason why TG4 needs to glorify any killing organisation. Martin Cahill may have been a murdering thug but he had at least one redeeming feature – he never murdered anyone and then claimed to have done so in my name. If TG4 wants to go down that road, then why not a documentary in Ulster Scots celebrating the Shankill Butchers?
The Shortscreen series continued with It Happened One Night (RTÉ2, 12.15am), a nice piece of shaggy dog rural gothic written by Seven Stubbs and directed by Jonathan Shaw in the style of a Sheridan Le Fanu tale seen through the eyes of Flann O Brien. Indeed it may grow to rival O'Brien's own short sketch Thirst, also set in a rural bar. Featuring the wonderful Eamonn Hunt alongside Des Nealon, Fran Brennan and Paul Ronan, it centred on the day when a mysterious black-clad stranger (the ever excellent Phelim Drew) appears in a pub and stands in utter silence for hours waiting for the moment when “it” will happen. If they gave Oscars for best late arrival into a bar of a furious wife clutching a paintbrush, then Norma Sheehan would need to prepare a speech. Made by Manifesto films, it was shown by RTÉ in the usual insomniac's slot.
Television highlight of the week however had to be the newlywed couple among the diners on The Restaurant (RTÉ 1, 8.30pm). When the husband decided to send back his dessert and the wife decided to intervene, she was told firmly on air, “Don't interfere when I am trying to do something.” Shag boring Tom Doorley, as a license payer I want to watch this couple every week.