WE’VE FINALLY REACHED the chapter of climate change where we’re naming continental weather events for three-headed hellhound monsters of ancient Greek myth.
Record temperatures in the high 40s were clocked across Europe this week, as over 1,200 children were evacuated from a Greek resort. The scorching heat climbed to 53 degrees Celsius in California’s Death Valley, where tourists showed up to take photos with the thermometers, which is sort of like sneaking a selfie with one of the four horsemen of the Apocalypse.
Evidently in two minds about climate armageddon, some Irish journalists took to Twitter to ponder over which was preferable: the rain in Ireland or the suffocating heat of Europe. An unhelpful narrative, to say the least.
A study published this week by the journal Nature Medicine found that 61,600 people may have died from heat-related causes across 35 European countries from late May to early September 2022. We can expect to see similar figures published next year no doubt, now that we’ve been visited by the literal guardian of Hades.
You might feel as though you need a pint after reading all of that. That’s natural. Heat makes us thirsty. This brings us to our next item of business.
Now, if you were to imagine some international media tycoon based in a skyscraper in London or New York, you might imagine him snippily saying something like “The Irish? What have they got to worry about? The price of a pint?” Well, this week, that unpleasant but fictitious individual who I have created for the purpose of this column would be correct.
From the outside looking in, it might seem that the frustration surrounding the 4c increase in the price of pints is indicative of an alcohol-obsessed culture, one where interest can be aroused simply by the mention of the word ‘pint’ in isolation, or any context.
And yes, okay, that’s probably “technically” true, but it’s not the whole story.
Concern over what, on the face of it, appears to be a meagre increase in the price of a good that a) is supposed to be consumed in low moderation and b) is available for less money in a supermarket, actually tells us a lot about the broader anxieties currently faced by modern Ireland.
The first is the ongoing cost of living crisis. This is the second increase in the price of pints made by Diageo in six months. The company bumped the price of its draughts by 12c back in February. In order for publicans to maintain their margins, even greater price increases are then passed down to the consumer. When these costs and additional VAT are into account, the latest increase could be more like 10c per pint at the bar.
The secondary issues centre around problems such as rural isolation, a lack of cultural spaces, and a society where the pub still represents the number one outlet for socialising whether you are living in Dublin city centre or a town of hundreds.
Seen through this lens, the consternation over climbing prices is easier to understand. A pint of economic misfortune with a lack of public investment head, if you will. In some pubs they call that ‘a special’. With all due respect to Chris Martin, if it’s costing us somewhere in the region of €2,440 to see Coldplay, something is badly wrong with either the domestic economy, or with our valuation of a band who have not written anything to rival The Scientist in the ensuing 21 years since its release.
And oh, we came close. We came so very close to not mentioning RTÉ this week.
With the Dáil in recess and Kevin Bakhurst apparently asking everyone on earth (including Ryan Tubridy) what he should do about Ryan Tubridy, it seemed as though we were being given at least a weeklong reprieve from national broadcaster cock-ups.
That was until the FIFA Women’s World Cup kicked off and it immediately became clear that while the picture was coming in from Sydney, the audio was obviously coming in from George Hamilton’s home base on Rigel 7.
After the painful few weeks RTÉ has had, coverage of an inspiring World Cup campaign should have been an open goal (this pun is neither intended nor unintended and it would be best if you simply ignore it). Instead, many viewers will have flocked to ITV in order to watch Ireland’s unfortunate 1-0 defeat to Australia. Ireland put up a valiant effort, and the real loser of the day was, sadly, RTÉ.
Good coverage of Irish sporting events is utterly essential to RTÉ’s mission, and most of our fondest memories of the broadcaster likely include George Hamilton’s commentary of Ireland’s Italia ’90 penalty shootout against Romania, or Sonia O’Sullivan’s silver medal win (in the same stadium RTÉ struggled to broadcast from on Thursday).
Those trust-building, hopeful, joyous moments are RTÉ’s foremost unique selling point. Making a balls of them is the last thing they need right now.
So let us spare a thought in these times for the struggling institutions who have blessed us with so many sweet memories — those moments of glory, narrated by RTÉ, blaring out over a pub full of excited patrons gripping their pints, often in warm weather.
A thought for RTÉ and their barter accounts. A thought for Diageo, whose operating profit grew 15.2% to €3.7 billion, according to their most recent interim results report in January. A bone or three for poor Cerberus. They are doing their best.
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