RYAN TUBRIDY: HOW CAN ANYONE DENY THE HAPPINESS TAYLOR SWIFT BRINGS?

Hurricane Swiftie landed on Irish shores this weekend much to delight of excited children, exhausted parents and expectant businesses.

I’ve been tracking this phenomenon since it made landfall in Scotland before making its way south to Liverpool and onto the concert crucible of London’s Wembley Stadium.

The Taylor effect is phenomenal as it brings hundreds of millions of euro to local business and government coffers. In its wake, the pop-storm leaves a beautiful streak of wreckage comprising endless selfies, friendship bracelets and bottomless sacks of glitter.

Only a fool would throw shade her way. How can anyone deny the happiness Tay-Tay, (I know, I’m really going for it now) brings to the faces and indeed, lives of her adoring fans?

If it’s not for you, just hold your Leonard Cohen CD a little closer to your heart, safe in the knowledge that the storm lifts off in the early hours of tomorrow leaving a generation of besotted Swifties buzzing in the afterglow of this generation’s Elvis!

The Irish accent is as strong as the physical passport around the world in many ways. You could be in a bar in New York or a café in London and someone will comment on your accent, usually with a smile. It wasn’t always this way, as we know from the ‘No Dogs, No Irish’ era of emigration but those days are, I hope, far behind us.

After the Second World War, the great broadcaster Eamonn Andrews blazed a trail for ambitious Irish journalists who marvelled at how he thrived in the unlikely world of British broadcasters, but people had missed a trick.

Post-war Britain hankered after something a little less class-riddled and when Eamonn’s soothing tones emerged from the wireless, people didn’t know where he went to school, which university he attended or who his ‘people’ were. Listeners warmed to this neutral accent that knew how to tell a story.

Then came Terry Wogan who calmed a generation beset by The Troubles landing in Britain. His Irish lilt on the radio every day reminded people that not all Irish people were the same.

After Terry, the floodgates opened and now, you can’t throw a stone in British broadcasting without hitting an Irish person!

I’m taking a couple of weeks off radio and Diary duties for some summer time out and I was delighted when I heard that Vogue Williams will fill in for me for the first week and Angela Scanlon for the second week on the radio in Dublin on Q102 and in London on Virgin Radio UK.

I couldn’t think of two better people to do the honours. They’re both well established and highly regarded broadcasters in the UK already and the fact that they’re both Irish, replacing a compatriot, is a bonus.

I was presenting my radio show from Dublin’s Q102 studios last Friday when I bumped into my old friend Jim-Jim Nugent, of FM104’s always excellent Strawberry Alarm Clock.

We’ve always got on well despite the fact that he does a spot-on imitation of me that mocks my tendency to talk about the same things. A lot! So yes, he pretends to be me droning on about The Beatles and Roald Dahl and bookshops and what not. Sadly, it’s very funny and I can only laugh. Anyway, we got talking and for obvious reasons, Willy Wonka came into his mind as he passed my desk so he quickly recommended that I watch Remembering Gene Wilder on Netflix.

That night, I did just that and was treated to the most thoughtful and sweet story about a gem of a man who brought us the best Wonka, right, as well as classic movies such as Blazing Saddles and Young Frankenstein. Wilder’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis is dealt with very movingly, yet it’s a surprisingly upbeat and moving story of a life well lived.

These days, if I want to feel very old, I just have to watch the news both locally and in Europe and watch the falling average age of people in powerful political positions.

Locally, our Taoiseach is 37 and our newly appointed Minister for Finance is 33. In France, the current prime minister at 35 is likely to be replaced by a 28-year-old.

On the flipside, whenever I want to feel young again, I go to CNN to watch an 81-year-old slug it out with a kid of 78 so it all works itself out but on balance.