By Sandy Scandal
Seán Murphy, an ex-Blackrock College student, and current “looking for opportunities” graduate had a dream. Not a noble dream, like helping others, or launching a start-up that definitely wouldn’t collapse. No, Seán’s dream was simpler: get on television. Any television. Preferably where he wouldn’t have to do too much.
And so, naturally, he arrived at the RTÉ studios to audition for The Late Late Toy Show.
It didn’t matter that he was 23. Or that he had no child. Or that he had borrowed the toy from his little cousin, who was still crying about it back in Dun Laoghaire. Seán simply reasoned that “age boundaries are a social construct” and that RTÉ couldn’t turn away potential talent.
Inside Studio 4, actual children performed chaotic wonders; juggling slime, somersaulting off beanbags, playing the tin whistle like they were being chased. Meanwhile, Seán rehearsed his introduction in the mirror.
“Hi Patrick,” he whispered, adjusting his hair for the fifteenth time. “I’m here to show Ireland this fantastic remote-control tractor… and also my good side.”
A producer approached, perplexed.
“Are you… a contestant’s parent?”
“No, no,” Seán said. “I’m the act.”
She stared. “You’re twenty-three.”
“Yes, but I have a youthful energy. And a tractor.”
Despite several warnings, Seán somehow ended up on the audition stage. He held up the toy tractor like it was the crown jewels and began his pitch.
“This tractor is a metaphor,” he announced proudly. “It symbolises drive, ambition, and my ability to handle live broadcasting environments. Also I’m available for panel discussions, weather segments, guest judging-”
The tractor sputtered, veered left, and crashed off the table.
When the producers gently escorted him out, Seán comforted himself with the thought that not all heroes succeedsome simply get camera-adjacent.
But as he posed for a selfie outside the studio gates, he knew the truth:
He’d be back next year. With a better tractor. And maybe a spray tan.