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Ireland's political and cultural magazine
44 July 2022
menters. And commenters drive trac.
It was no longer a forum of playful all-sorts
that could click you from a breaking news
thread to a culture-ri, to the anticipation of
what might be under a Meanwhile in. It was
no longer bringing out the lols for lurkers. Its
big reads got too frequent and seemed deter-
mined to be as divisive as possible.
Its band of updated content got too narrow
and before long it was firmly identified as Anti
Vax Conspiracy Hooked Rapture waiting Ab-
surds. Its daily meeting point – the papers,
became an insurrection of the above Absurds.
One time, long long on the internet ago,
identity was your accent, your club, your coun-
ty colours. They are what formed our handles
and our avatars.
The internet widened, and then woke itself
over Broadsheet’s almost 12 years, thinning
the original settlers out. Its comments sec-
tions overgrew its original content mission –
to laugh at Preposterous.
We are all now boxed in by our selected
identity and social media profiles. Your gen-
der, your choice of pronoun, your sexuality,
your diet, your healthcare choices and who
you vote for. Were you a Johnny or an Amber?
One time, we early settlers just used a t-shirt
or a few badges to tell the World who we were,
and what we were for. Now everyone can align
themselves more precisely to the finer points
of dierent and unique.
Identity spectrums now provide classifica-
tions that give you the ability to define your-
self exactly how you want. While allowing a
formal recognition of the equal status of all, it
also divides us more finely.
It was the Internet, that fifth estate, that
changed. Not Broadsheet. And certainly not
John Ryan.
Of all the talents recorded in the messages
of condolence the Broadsheet shutdown pro-
voked, none mention John Ryan’s ability to con-
vince by leaving no trace of his tactics behind.
His greatest work to date, Broadsheet.ie,
put us together. I was a part of it, for better
and for worse. John Ryan enabled the anony-
mous bawdy uncut Frilly to strut all over his
home because he knew how to make that pro-
ductive for him. He even rolled up his sleeves
for some corner-boy big-talk himself; “Fight!”
Which all fused to generate the forum he built
and curated for a few of its better seasons.
Ploughing Championships.
When it ended, it was him I missed. Not the
writing, not the escapades and skirmishes of
the Frilly Keane comment sections, or the Ce-
lebrity Accountant Vanessa o the Telly lark. It
was my writing partnership and rapport with
John Ryan.
I have seen many of the dierent diagnoses
and conflicting ‘post-mortems’ of Broadsheet.
ie. Most are all fulla-shyte; a technical term
I am qualified to use. Posts of condescend-
ing gu that read like hummed condolences.
And from fulltime writers and media-0verified
whatnots. Maybe fate had a good reason that
I shouldn’t hide under a name of convenience
anymore since I’m calling out the mainstream
floaters they are if 15-year-old photographs
and spiel is all they’ve got to resource their
columns and comments.
On a day-to-day level, Broadsheet needed
two essential components, Content and Com-
ments.
When the former tacked more to the Alt
Right Freedum hit makers, it was a natural
consequence that that political bias would
seek out that tailwind. Over time Broadsheet
only became relevant to that cohort of com-
S
INCE I am the Village local with the
most words sunk on the departed
Broadsheet.ie it comes to me to say
a few words.
There is only one name that
comes with Broadsheet at a time like this,
and that is its founder, its shaper, and its last
man standing, John Ryan Junior. He needs no
introduction to Irish media; most know him
longer than I do, and much of it in better days
and younger times. Of pretty parties and cat
walks.
All that is no loss to me.
John Ryan held my words in his hands as a
master craftsman of the published word.
But there is also scar tissue. Not only did we
each maintain two separate Broadsheet parts,
we were stuck together between all of them in
dierent combinations, and across dierent
themes and streams.
Plus, we were both high-
functioning divas
I have come to recognise that it was never
the anonymity the nom de plume Frilly Keane
looked like it gave me that made it all work; it
was the freedom to use words whatever way I
wanted. I got to break every rule of language
and its written word. I had John Ryan on my
side, so I could do anything with a word and
make words do all sorts of things. Until I
didn’t anymore.
Then I had to rely on the nine-to-five-land
side of the Celebrity Accountant Vanessa O
the Telly that John Ryan concocted.
‘Brodsheet on the telly’
Broadsheet.ie and
its talented editor
never changed
though the world
got woker
By Vanessa Foran
aka Frilly Keane
MEDIA
In memoriam
Bodger
