“THIS IS WHERE the executives in the RTÉ green room start worrying if they’ve got the wrong guy,” Patrick Kielty told the laughing audience.

By this point, he was about three minutes into an opening Late Late Show monologue that had only one focus: the RTÉ payment scandal of the summer gone by.

Straight off the bat, Kielty stepped out in front of the new, deep blue set – designed to banish the last four months from our memories – and reminded us that the Late Late Show under him would be one where “the host asks the questions, instead of answering them in front of an Oireachtas committee.”

It went on like that. Kielty joked that based on the latest TV licence figures, only 27 people would be tuning into the Late Late Show’s return, which was “twice as many people as saw The Late Late Show: The Musical”.

The 52-year-old from County Down would have been no more sparing were he a club comedian or, at least, a particularly sharp pantomime satire. The intro ended any suspicion that Ryan Tubridy’s successor would be ignoring the circumstances around the former host’s departure from RTÉ. It was also likely comprehensive enough to snuff out any need for him to dwell on the matter any further for now.

Kielty’s jokes were, throughout, a welcome and weird touch, with the audience not always sure how to react. This is, perhaps, because The Late Late Show has never truly been “funny” before. This is new territory.

Some of the territory, however, was old.

The RTÉ show famous for interviewing presenters from other RTÉ shows began its new era by interviewing presenter-of-an-RTÉ-show Tommy Tiernan, who was at least joined by his podcast cohosts Laurita Blewitt and Hector Ó hEochagáin.

The ensuing conversation, one-against-three, was an awkward choice for a first interview. It seemed that the goal may have been to let the three popular figures on the stage and just tell stories to the audience. This didn’t feel like an interview so much as it felt like watching an in-joke between friends, with too many stumbles and interruptions.

Mary McAleese (another reliable Late Late choice) brought a politician’s calm and composure to proceedings, focusing the conversation a bit more and working in some nice anecdotes about Joe Brolly, who is married to Blewitt.

Still, the conversation was, for better or worse, very “Late Late”. The only way that it could have intensified is if they brought out The 2 Johnnies, which they duly did.

The Johnnies, an omnipresent duo promoting their own RTÉ show, at one point making the comment that “lads know women have a certain way with children.” 

Final guest James McClean – making what was shockingly his first ever appearance on the show – was a breath of fresh air. The Wrexham and Republic of Ireland footballer spoke in detail about the sectarian abuse he has received while playing in England, his daughter and his own autism diagnosis, his own retirement, and spoke diplomatically on the future of Ireland manager Stephen Kenny.

This interview was by far the clearest of the lot, and spoke to Kielty’s skill as a serious interlocutor. It will have teased viewers that Kielty might indeed be the man to instil some confessional spirit into the Late Late Show guest chairs.

Still, one can’t help but feel that Kielty was most comfortable in the moments where he was by himself.

A segment in which a screen showed patrons in Patrick’s local waiting for him to say the name of the town so they could all get a free drink was delivered with whimsy and the kind of innate comic timing that was previously lacking from the role. 

Another lengthy (way too lengthy) segment saw Kielty literally wade into the audience and sit among them as he played a game with an audience member. The smooth crowd-work on show felt nearly like he was showing off tricks that the old dog just didn’t have.

The first Late Late of the Kielty era treaded plenty of old boards but some promising new ones too. They should lean in to the latter.