A day to remember

THERE’S often the joke that a passport is needed to access certain, shall we say, more rural areas of Ireland but I think it was actually the first time a passport was needed to enter an Irish village.
While US President Barrack Obama’s historic visit to our fair shores is now just a memory for most of us, for one town in the Midlands it’s a story they’ll cling to forever.
The Road to Moneygall on RTE ONE on Tuesday night went behind the scenes in the months leading up to the president’s stroll through the streets of the Offaly town with his wife Michelle.
The locals of Moneygall were more than willing subjects in giving their views on what the possibility of a visit by Obama meant to them and it captured brilliantly the excitement that ensued before the big event
It was a day Henry Healy had dreamed of for four years but I’m sure the organisational nightmare it would turn out to be hadn’t crossed his mind. 
Like all good events in Irish life, a local com-mittee was set up to take a hand in the organisation. Never was parish politics more in evidence than when trying to decide who would get to attend and who would be left out. How to divide the parish, above the church or below it? How many houses would have visitors on the day and would they want to go? We’re all familiar with the scene. In the end, the secret service took the decision out of their hands and issued a ticket system (along with producing your passport on the day), which may ultimately have saved said committee from not being on speaking terms with a number of neighbours for years to come.
To give the committee their due, they were on the ball when it came to the myriad of companies and organisations that were at pains to get a slice of the action and some good old publicity to boot, down to Dulux even offering to repaint the town for them. They dutifully decided not to be swayed by financial gain and instead strove to keep it as locally orientated as possible, ensuring to keep the real Moneygall at the centre of it.
Getting to see just how excited the locals were about the whole event grounded the visit in reality, rather than the gloss sheen TV coverage on the day offered. The work that went in behind the scenes was phenomenal and they deserve their 15 minutes in the sun for it. 
One of the more hilarious scenes was when the secret service pitched up in a bus to inspect the place, complete with gawking locals and a few ‘d’ya see that’ nudges. Never was the gap between rural Ireland and the ‘Big Leagues’ more colourfully illustrated than the sight of a suited man in shades with ear pieces handing out of him standing beside a council worker in his luminous jacket, shovel in hand and woolly hat sitting halfway back his head, as he propped himself against a trailer with a grin back to his two ears.
The spin-off from the Obama encounter didn’t do the town any harm either and the level of tourists coming through beforehand was a huge boost to the area. Even down to an opportunistic hen party that arrived in a party bus just to say they had a drink in Moneygall. I wonder if the sozzled woman gyrating with her mate curled under a cushion on seeing her antics. The poor woman behind the bar, who had been unable to contain her enthusiasm for Obama’s visit for much of the programme, noted that she was glad hen parties didn’t happen every other week or she might be carried out in a coffin sooner than hoped for.
The visit had a few threatened derailings, not least of which the announcement of Osama Bin Laden’s death but the locals were adamant the ‘show must go on’. Even the weather refused to play ball but in the end, Henry got his family photograph with his long lost cousin, so all’s well that ends well.
Whoever came up with the reality TV concept must have to pinch themselves daily that over a decade later, their idea is stronger than ever, with production companies willing to make a show about literally anything. Or maybe they are kicking themselves that the formula wasn’t patented and that everyone who made a stab at ‘Find the next Agatha Christie’ had to pay them a fee. When Nigel Lythgoe first appeared on our screens in early 2001 on the judging panel of Popstars (and later Simon Cowell on Pop Idol and later Pete Waterman and Louis Walsh on Popstars: The Rivals and later…I could go on), I don’ think the world fully realised the enormity of the assault that was about to be unleashed on our senses.
Anytime I hear of a new attempt to ‘Find the next Jamie Oliver’ and such nonsense, I automatically recoil. Peter Kay’s ‘Geraldine’ is the only one that deserved her crown as Britain’s Got the Pop Factor and Possibly a New Celebrity Jesus Christ Soapstar Superstar Strictly on Ice (say that with a mouthful of cornflakes).
The newest addition to the family is The X Factor Does Intentional Comedy. No, not really, but the audition shows of that venture provide far more entertainment than Show Me The Funny, which is supposed to contain both professional and amateur stand-up acts. Ho, ho, ho, it is not. I cannot honestly review the whole programme in fairness, as I had to switch it off before the end but suffice to say after Welsh/Spanish Ignacio Lopez tried to entertain over 200 Scouse women with some horrifically crass humour, I began to curl into a ball as nausea-inducing cringing took hold.
Alan Davis has for some reason decided to get involved with this (you know, the one Stephen Fry tries to make look like a dolt on QI). I honestly expected better of him. The premise is to ‘Find the next Jack Dee’ with 10 hopefuls battling it out, the worst of the comedic bunch being shown the door each week. The winner gets £100,000, a multi-date tour and their very own Christmas DVD. Sigh! If you must it’s on Sunday at 9pm on ITV.
One to watch: The Hour on BBC1, Tuesdays at 9pm. Set in a 1950s TV newsroom, the timing couldn’t be better with Murdoch-gate unfolding. Gripping stuff.