We all like to think the best of ourselves, but we all have moments when we let ourselves down so it is ill-advised ever to get too cocky. That said, here are two things I would like to think: First, that I would never demean women in general by going on the podcast I co-host with Sarah Ryan and simulating Rose of Tralee contestants performing fellatio.
Second, that if I did make an error of judgement on that scale, Sarah or Gary or some other of my colleagues would immediately say “John, we can’t publish that, cop yourself on”.
All of which brings me to our old friend Joe Brolly, and his podcast co-host and sidekick, Dion Fanning. Here they are in the latest episode, comparing the Presidential Election to the Rose of Tralee. If you haven’t seen it, I advise sick bags at the ready:
The context for that charming performance was Brolly deciding that it would be good to compare the Presidential election between Fine Gael’s Heather Humphreys and Independent far-left TD Catherine Connolly to the Rose of Tralee festival. Where exactly the simulated blowjobs fitted in in Joe’s mind is not clear.
There are a few things that strike me, watching that: First, Dion Fanning’s obvious and apparent discomfort, which we might surmise wasn’t enough for Fanning to be able to tell his co-host that perhaps that segment didn’t reflect well on him and shouldn’t be published. Fanning clearly is less culpable than Brolly in terms of performing the act, but how long have we heard left-wing people telling us that as men, we have a duty to call out other men for their “bad manning” when it comes to matters sexual? Fanning had the perfect opportunity there to say “that’s a bit gross, Joe”, but sat instead in silence.
That says a lot, I think. And it might prompt us to think about how easy it is to challenge a friend when that friend is behaving awfully in a context like this one. I like to think I would speak up and call that person to order, if they behaved like Joe Brolly in either public, or private. Perhaps I am wrong. In any case, Fanning has not covered himself in glory.
Second, there’s Brolly himself.
It goes without saying, because it is blindingly obvious, that Joe Brolly has never simulated oral sex while discussing a male competition. He’s reserved that particular performance for a Presidential contest featuring two women, while comparing it to the country’s foremost beauty pageant for young women.
Perhaps the cheapest mental exercise known to man is “what if the other side did it”, but it’s genuinely worth considering what might be said about, say, this writer if I was to do something like this on camera: Sexist, creepy, disgusting, appalling, and revealing his true character would, I’d guess, be the limit of what might be said. And in fairness, the social media reaction to Brolly has said all of those things.
But what about the media that has elevated him to his current exalted position? What about his colleagues and editors at the Sunday Independent? Have they nothing to say?
Brolly’s descent in recent years has been rapid and unrelenting. A few weeks ago, as I wrote, he said unambiguously untrue things about the late Charlie Kirk in the aftermath of Kirk’s assassination. He has become notably angrier, more partisan, and less careful with facts than one might expect from a nearly 60-year-old barrister.
He’s also embraced, on this occasion, conduct that he’d be quick to accuse others of: Outright, demeaning, disgusting misogyny, in which women are reduced to sex objects.
It is not for me to say what the Sunday Independent should do with him. But if he was my columnist, working for this outlet, he would no longer be writing for us after that performance.
That’s not cancel culture, by the way. That’s just basic standards.
But finally, there’s another group I’d like to mention: Ireland’s legion of female journalists and opinion writers. Your Roisin Ingles. Your Una Mullallys. Your Jennifer O’Connells and Alison O’Connors: These are the people who set themselves up as the guardians of decency in our media, and are never found wanting in general when there’s a man to be condemned for misbehaviour, especially misbehaviour with a sexual angle. Where are they? Why are they silent?
It is hard to shake the sense, as ever, that there is one rule for ordinary men, in the eyes of some of these ladies, and quite another rule altogether for their perceived ideological allies. When George Hook got the boot (for something much less disgusting than Brolly’s act above) it was largely Ireland’s legion of female journalists and opinion writers who led the charge to make the media a safer space for women.
But when it comes to Brolly, they are apparently content to remain silent and force other young women to share a newsroom with him.
It’s all very revealing.
Editor’s note: An earlier version of this piece erroneously described Mr. Brolly as a “King’s Counsel”. He is in fact just a regular old barrister. My apologies for the error.
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