Irish Election are pleased to announce our collection of Irish 
Harney Wanted Crowne Pulled from A Different RTE Show
Read more about: Government, Health, Irish Politics, Media, Progressive Democrats
After the revelation yesterday that it was most likely a complaint about balance, most likely to be interpreted as a de facto pulling of Crowne, by HSE. Today’s Sindo reports that Harney was also offered to the Saturday view in order to speak on the health service. Prof. Crowne was also due to be on the panel but Harney wanted him pulled as a condition for her appearance.
Yesterday, however, a spokesman for Ms Harney, Mark Costigan, confirmed that he had personally contacted the producer of Saturday View last weekend offering Ms Harney as a Government spokeswoman on the radio show.
The Sunday Independent understands that, at that time, Junior Health Minister Maire Hoctor had already been made available to the programme.
But when it became known to Ms Harney’s advisers that Professor Crown was also scheduled to appear on Saturday View, they sought to replace Ms Hoctor with the senior minister, Ms Harney — but only on condition that Professor Crown be dropped.
While this doesn’t conlusively prove anything in relation to the Late Late show business, it certainly makes inferences that Crowne is persona non grate around the HSE and a voice to be silenced a little more believable. Whatever the tactics used.
There is a phrase about ducks and walking and the noises made, but I can’t quite remember it…
i am minded to agree Dan, the fact is Sarah highlighted the method earlier, withdraw support and then claim the panel is unbalanced.
It does however pose questions for the indpendence of any public service broadcaster. BBC had to get their house in order some time back and with the onset of digital tv it seems RTE must too to continue to justify a position of public service i.e. not afraid of government.
Inevitably news is not favourable to them most of the time and a clear analysis is to be valued above fluff and hype and also over balance in times like this
It always starts the same way. I am in the garden airing my terrapin Jetta when he walks past my gate, that mysterious man from Drumcondra.
‘Hello Bertie,’ I say. ‘What are you doing in Dusseldorf?’
‘Attending to certain matters about the house,’ he replies.
‘Ah,’ I say.
He apprises Jetta’s lines with a keen eye. ‘That is a well-groomed terrapin,’ he says.
‘Her name is Jetta.’ I say. ‘Perhaps you would like to come inside?’
‘Very well.’ He says.
Bertie Aherne walks inside my house and sits down on my couch. We talk urbanely of various issues of the day.
Presently I say, ‘Perhaps you would like to see my cling-film?’
‘By all means.’
I cannot see his eyes through his trademark Drumcondra squint and I have no idea if he is merely being polite or if he genuinely has an interest in cling-film.
I bring it from the kitchen, all the rolls of it. ‘I have a surprising amount of clingfilm,’ I say with a nervous laugh.
Bertie merely nods.
‘I estimate I must have nearly a kilometre in the kitchen alone.’
‘As much as that?’ He says in surprise. ‘So.’
‘Mind you, people do not realize how much is on each roll.
I bet that with a single roll alone I could wrap you up entirely.’
Bertie Aherne sits impassively like a monochrome Buddha. My palms are sweaty.
‘I will take that bet,’ says Bertie. ‘If you succeed I will give you a tour around my house in Drumcondra. If you fail I will take Jetta, as a lesson to you not to speak boastfully.’
I nod. ‘So then. If you will please to stand.’
Bertie stands. ‘Commence.’
I start at the ankles and work up.
I am like a spider binding him in my gossamer web. I do it tight with several layers.
Soon Bertie Aherne stands before me, completely wrapped in cling-film.
The pleasure is unexampled.
‘You are completely wrapped in cling-film,’ I say.
‘You win the bet,’ says Bertie, muffled. ‘Now unwrap me.’
‘Not for several hours.’
‘Ah.’
I sit and admire my handiwork for a long time.
So as not to make the ordeal unpleasant for him we make small talk on topical subjects, Bertie somewhat muffled.
At some point I must leave him to attend to Jetta’s needs.
When I return I find he has hopped out of my house, still wrapped in cling-film.
The loss leaves me broken and pitiful.
He never calls me.
He sends no invitation to tour his house in Drumcondra.
The police come and reprimand me.
Jetta is taken away, although I get her back after a complicated legal process.
There is only one thing that can console me. A certain dream, a certain vision…
It always starts the same way.