Liam Fay: Paranoia lies at the Corr of the protests against Sellafield

One issue that has consistently exercised Corr is the high rate of cancers allegedly generated among the Irish populace by radiation from Sellafield, the nuclear-processing plant on the Cumbrian coast. A Dundalk native, he is a zealous advocate of claims that Sellafield has brought death and disease to thousands in the northeast, and Louth in particular.

Last week, however, this hypothesis was once again blown out of the water by a "cancer atlas" published by the National Cancer Registry (NCR). The atlas confirms that the incidence of some cancers, most notably stomach cancer, is higher on the east coast but comprehensively rules out any link to radiation from Sellafield.

Though his website offers running commentary on news, Corr's refusal to acknowledge the NCR's findings is hardly surprising, as conspiracy enthusiasts instinctively dismiss inconvenient data as establishment whitewash. What's more significant is that the report has also been ignored by supposedly more "responsible" campaigners against Sellafield. For decades, unsubstantiated assertions about carcinogenic emissions from the Cumbrian plant have been a central rhetorical plank of Ireland's anti-nuclear movement, and have been cited by figures as diverse as U2, the Green party and the Catholic hierarchy. But few have done more to propagate the myth of Sellafield as a cancer-causing agent than Louth's leading elected representatives.

Take Dermot Ahern, the justice minister. "Nobody in this area believes that discharges from Sellafield have not affected the health of people on this side of the Irish Sea," he declared in 2002.

Fine Gael's Fergus O'Dowd has used even more emotive language. Interviewed by The New York Times about his anti-Sellafield crusade in 1996, the former mayor of Drogheda depicted the plant as the most grievous English threat to his town since Oliver Cromwell.

Tugging on the heartstrings of his American readers, he said his 10-year-old son had recently asked him: "Daddy, is there something in the air from England that could kill us?" O'Dowd told the boy there was.

Then there's Arthur Morgan, the Sinn Fein TD who largely built his constituency profile by campaigning against Sellafield. No doubt relishing an opportunity to bash the Brits while posing as a defender of his homeland, Morgan continues to claim there are proven links between the plant and Louth's cancer rates.

At the heart of the NCR research is compelling evidence that the key factors in cancer risk are lifestyle and income. Men in deprived areas, for instance, are 70% more likely to get lung cancer than those in the wealthiest areas. For parish-pump politicians and self-styled messiahs, this is a drearily complex proposition. It's much easier to indulge in grandstanding about malign foreign powers or knee-jerk denunciations of the big bad nuclear industry.

Jim Corr is a comic manifestation of the would-be superhero who prefers fighting voodoo villains over mundane hazards. But in an age when rational scepticism is giving way to irrational paranoia, he's singing a song many want to hear.

Plumming the political depths

It's not easy to further dampen spirits in the midst of a flood but, somehow, Brian Cowen did. As the clean-up of ruined homes and businesses reveals the scale of the devastation, many inhabitants of the disaster zones that received "morale-boosting visits" from the taoiseach are still flabbergasted by his ability to make a bad situation worse.

Slouching around with hands in pockets, wearing shoes rather than boots, he wasn't just out of his depth but seemed positively dumbfounded to discover that depths came this deep.

In Athlone, he was offered waders so he could plunge in and meet the worst affected but he declined on the basis that he was rushing back to Dublin for a cabinet meeting. By right, the cabinet should've convened in Athlone, the eye of the storm.

When his leaky premiership eventually sinks, Cowen's Athlone washout will be his epitaph. Not waving but drowning.

Knock shrine is a site for sore eyes

Jesus heals. But, faced with acute medical emergencies, even the fanatically devout prefer professional healthcare.

Ophthalmic surgeons in Galway are treating several pilgrims who damaged their retinas by staring at the sun to see apparitions at Knock.

For people who've been blinded by the light, the appeal of modern science is obvious. After all, Biblical remedies for visual impairment are not exactly far-sighted. "If thy eye offends thee," says St Matthew, "pluck it out."

At a time of scarce resources, however, those who risk injuring themselves for religious reasons should pay extra taxes to compensate for the social burden they represent. The state could then provide the full range of medical services that supernatural thrill-seekers need. At long last, they could have their heads examined.

A recipe for hypocrisy

Mairead McGuinness believes that farming is an environmentally wholesome pursuit that should not be polluted by the slurry of celebrity.

The Ireland East MEP lambasted the European Parliament's affording of a political platform to Sir Paul McCartney, the rock deity and vegetarian evangelist who's campaigning for people to abstain from meat one day every week.

McGuinness, a carnivorous publicity hunter, dismissed McCartney's Brussels visit as a "media circus".

Mixing agriculture with showbusiness, she said, is "highly objectionable". Meat-eating must impair memory function. McGuinness once fronted an RTE reality show called Celebrity Farm.

Night of the living dread

RTE has endured many difficult times. However, there is no more treacherous date in the broadcasting calendar than New Year's Eve. December 31 programming is invariably abysmal but, if RTE persists with current plans, it will never be forgiven.

Two episodes of The All Ireland Talent Show are to be the centrepiece of the forthcoming festivities. In the second instalment, spanning midnight, the judging panel - Bláthnaid Ní Chofaigh, Daithí Ó Sé, Shane Lynch, John Creedon and Dana - will regale viewers with their "party pieces". Following a year of quasi-Biblical plagues, the last thing Ireland needs is a pestilential outbreak of amateur theatrics from the Five Hams of the Apocalypse. Stop this madness now before it's too late!