26 June 1996, Richie Taylor in The Irish Mirror
Funnyman Dermot Morgan will forever be grateful to Father Ted.
Just when it looked like his showbiz career was finished, the zany TV show came along and gave mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to his ailing career.
Barely two years ago every door in RTÉ was securely locked against him. The future looked bleak for the Dublin comedian.
He had sailed too close to the wind and had cut too close to the bone. His Scrap Saturday show had been axed as RTÉ showed the outrageous comic the door for the last time.
There were even rumours that some of the politicians he had lampooned had brought pressure to bear on the powers that be.
So with a new baby son and two teenage boys from his first marriage, he didn’t have his financial problems to seek.
He played the pub circuit to make a living, but his heart remained in radio and TV as he dreamed up new ideas for programmes and sitcoms.
Then he got wind that two young Irish writers had him in mind for a new Channel 4 sitcom.
Dermot won the part, and became the star of the off-the-wall TV series about three deranged priests on an island off Ireland’s west coast.
It quickly became a huge hit and recently landed a BAFTA award.
And now after years of rejection and unreturned phone calls, Dermot can thumb his nose at RTÉ.
“I’d have been in trouble if I hadn’t landed Father Ted,” admits the 44-year-old. “But I’d have kept going. I’m a determined sort of guy. You have to be in this business.”
Dermot is relaxing as we have lunch near the flat he shares in London with his partner Fiona and their two-year-old son Ben. Our taxi driver has already recognised him as “that Irish priest guy”. When he walks the streets people call out “Oi, Father Ted” or Father Jack’s war cry of “Drink.”
Dermot loves it. He’d be worried if people didn’t recognise him.
“My fame used to stop at Heathrow,” he says. “It’s been great to watch it expand. It means people are really watching the show.”
The exploits of Ted, Father Dougal played by Ardal O’Hanlon and Father Jack played by Frank Kelly have captured the imagination of over four million viewers a week.
A Christmas special is in the offing, and it looks like there will be a third series. In the meantime, Dermot is furiously working on screenplays, scripts, and anything else that comes to his mind.
After 18 months spent commuting to London, Dermot, Fiona and Ben have let their home in Dublin’s Sandymount and moved into a two-bed flat in Richmond. Producers and writers are all taking his calls and listening to his ideas – a far cry from his treatment at home.
“I eventually realised I was never going to be able to do any business in RTÉ, so I’d better get out. It was just like petty office politics.”
He’s glad to have started afresh, but the scars from Scrap Saturday have yet to heal.
“Scrap was a huge hit,” says Dermot. “Everyone loved it. But RTÉ couldn’t get rid of it quick enough. The public loved it, so it was like they didn’t care what the public liked. It’s meant to be public service broadcasting, but it’s really civil service broadcasting.”
Dermot admits to having a chuckle at recent events at RTÉ, with Gay Byrne and Pat Kenny switching over as audience figures go down. “The fuss they’re making over that is unbelievable,” he says. “All Kevin Healy, director of radio programmes, is doing is re-arranging the deck chairs on the Titanic.”
But he suddenly turns serious as the memories come flooding back.
“I still can’t quite make sense of my experiences in Ireland. Looking back, it was all very traumatic.
“I think the management in RTÉ is a disgrace. Do you imagine anyone there would have been able to make sense of Father Ted’s script? It took Channel 4 to see it.”
Now, irony of ironies, RTÉ are buying the show from Channel 4.
Despite the heartache, Dermot believes his experiences have helped to focus him.
“I liken RTÉ’s behaviour to East German TV. I felt ashamed for Ireland. Here was something people liked and their interests were not being catered for.
“It was like they don’t care about the new agenda where we’ve a woman President and the ban on divorce has been lifted. These people are all stuck in the 1950s.”
Dermot will be one of the first people to take advantage of the new divorce laws. He split with wife Suzanne a long time ago, and is painfully aware of the pitfalls of an early marriage.
“I doubt if we’d even date if we met now. We married in our mid 20s and suddenly there we were, two kids later.
“A lot of Irish people have been living in dead marriages for years, unable to do anything about it.”
His partner Fiona likes to stay out of the limelight. A fine foil to Dermot’s wacky character, she refuses to get into a family photo with Ben and Dermot. No amount of cajoling will change her mind.
“Oh well, I tried,” says Dermot as he lifts Ben on to his shoulders.
“I met Fiona after my marriage had gone for a hop,” he says. “Do I want to re-marry? Yes and no. We’re thinking about it.”
But right now he’s enjoying parenthood second time around.
His first sons Don, 17, and Bobby, 16, live with their mum, but hope to visit dad in London soon.
“I feel the same about Ben as the other lads,” says Dermot. “It’s terrific. I’m 44 now and I’m getting a second look at that stuff.
“But I’m more reflective now. I was always very huggy with them – oh God, that sounds very Chris de Burgh.
“Myself and the big guys can go for a pint, but I can’t sit them on my knee without attracting a social worker’s attention,” he laughs.
Dermot adds: “The boys enjoy Father Ted. All their schoolpals love it. Ted is cool.”
And he has no qualms about Ben growing up in England.
“Sure, there’s more physical space in Ireland, and our house there is better, but it’s important people in the industry see I’m here.
“There’s no point in going back and not achieving in Ireland.”