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Big mouth strikes again and calls for a dictator

Whenever Michael O'Leary appears on the radio, some texters respond to his no-nonsense views as though he were Aragorn in the Lord of the Rings trilogy. "My liege!" they cry holding out their iPhones before them, keen to hear the wisdom of their lost king.

Now, in moderation I find O'Leary entertaining. His responses to complaints about Ryanair are always funny, summed up on Tuesday's Right Hook as: "If you want something else, go away because we don't have it."

When George asks, "Why should I fly with you?", O'Leary responds: "You shouldn't. You're rich. You don't mind being delayed."

Then George wonders why Ryanair hasn't got reserve seating and priority boarding, O'Leary claims that they do. "I'd carry you on myself personally for an extra fiver," he says. And I really believe he would.

George getting a piggyback from O'Leary (a potential ad campaign?) is one thing, but putting the future of our nation in his hands is another.

Before long O'Leary's being asked to solve all Ireland's problems. He makes it sound very simple. What we need to do, he tells us, is to earn more money than we spend. Specifics? Nurses and teachers need to work harder, dole should be cut off after 12 months and all public assets should be privatised. Furthermore, real emigration doesn't exist (because we have Skype) and we should all pose in our underwear for a Ryanair calendar (I made that one up).

"You could fix the country in about five years," he says, before bemoaning his unelectability.

"What you need here would be a serious right-wing dictatorship for five years."

George gamely battles the O'Learyisms for a while. He knows that there's something bad about O'Leary's right-wing putsch, but he can't quite put his finger on it. Before long he's offering O'Leary a job.

"I'm sure you've noticed that we've a vacancy on Breakfast ... would you not like a new challenge in the morning?"


George wasn't the only interviewer offering nixers to interviewees. That morning, Ryan Tubridy promised 15-year-old Joanne O'Riordan that she could host the Late Late Show when he was done. Joanne, who was born with no arms or legs, had been chosen to talk at a UN event about women and technology in New York, and her conversation with Ryan was one of the most upliftingly hilarious radio moments of the week.

She planned to go on the Ferris wheel in New York toy store FAO Shwartz, but that was supposedly only for children younger than 12.

"I could just be like [puts on a sad voice] 'But I have no arms and legs!' and my brother could say [puts on a solemn voice] 'It would make her very happy'."

She talked about religion ("It was reared into me"), her phone ("It's like the limb I never had") and good-humoured gluttony: "I ate seven chicken burgers in an hour," she boasted of a recent mammoth feed.

"Now you're just making things up!" said Ryan.

She also hypothesised about what would happen if Michelle Obama attended the event at the UN. "I'll have to be all 'what's the craic Michelle?'"

Ray D'Arcy should have been all 'what's the craic Jerry?' during his Wednesday phone interview with Jerry Seinfeld.

Instead, he began with a description of himself.

"I'm 47. Sort of five-foot-nine on a good day. Balding. Father of one five-year-old daughter. Another one on the way in June... Large family. Nine. Working-class background. That's basically it."

Clearly Ray thought he was at a speed-dating event, but Jerry seemed to think Ray was an over-familiar telemarketer and responded with disinterested rambles, pauses and monosyllables.

"Does it involve a camera?" Ray asked Jerry of a secret new project.


"Right. Does it involve the internet?" poor Ray continued.


"Will it be long? Short? In between?"

"Yes," said Jerry. "All those. All those three."

The conversation was so awkward and aimless that Ray resorted to explaining Ireland's financial crisis. Sadly Jerry did not chip in with: "What you would need is a serious right-wing dictatorship for five years." Good thing too! In Ireland we prefer such advice from iconoclastic businessmen