WHAT was it like to be a gay policeman in the RUC in Northern Ireland in the 1990s before the Good Friday Agreement? That’s the question at the heart of Blood on the Dance Floor (Radio 4, Monday; all episodes available on BBC Sounds), Jordan Dunbar’s investigation into the murder of Darren Bradshaw, a 24-year-old police officer outside the only gay bar in Belfast back in 1997. 

Rewinding back to the gay culture in the city and within the police force 25 years ago, Dunbar discovers a more nuanced story than you might expect in socially conservative Northern Ireland. And one full of characters who might have walked straight out of a Colin Bateman novel. Like the police intelligence officer who took to wearing a monocle and carrying a cigarette holder. 

Bradshaw himself stood out, too. “This guy should be on stage having roses thrown at him, not petrol bombs,” Dunbar suggested at one point in last Monday’s episode.

The RUC (later replaced by the PSNI following the signing of the Good Friday Agreement) was a police force that was apparently less welcoming to gay officers than the Met in London (which, as we all know, is really saying something). 

READ MORE: Sylvia Patterson on staying alive, staying sane and staying herself

And yet, on the ground, gay officers were often supported by their colleagues, Dunbar discovered. In short, RUC police officers were not the homophobes. It was RUC management.

To be honest, I wasn’t expecting to laugh as much as I have listening to the first couple of episodes of Blood on the Dance Floor. But it’s one of the show’s strengths that it catches the absurdity and thrill of being young even in a damaged place.

But the damage can’t be ignored. This is also a series that looks at sectarianism and the cost of that; one that is still being paid every day in Northern Ireland. I’m steeling myself to hear about Bradshaw’s murder and its consequences in the later episodes, but this is a true crime story that never feels voyeuristic and pulls back the curtain on a hidden subculture. And any show that uses the word “hallion” has to be recommended.

I will be mostly trying to ignore the ridiculous folderol that is going on today at Westminster Abbey. I’ve been trying to avoid all the breathless previews on TV and radio too. But I did catch Len Pennie’s Stone of Destiny on Radio 4 on Monday night which was also more fun than I was expecting. 

That’s largely because Herald columnist Pennie, while never doubting the sincerity of the Scottish students who stole the Stone from Westminster Abbey in 1950, pitched the story as something straight out of an Ealing film, tracking the plots to steal the stone that came before, mostly foiled because the wannabe thieves liked alcohol a little too much and kept telling passing journalists their plans.

In short, if anyone fancies being the Scottish Richard Curtis this might be the perfect inspiration.

Sometimes the pleasure of radio is just the joy of hearing people speak. In Revolutionary Letters (Radio 4, Sunday) producer Eleanor McDowall gave us an account of Beat writer Diane di Prima and her Revolutionary Letters project.

The result was a soundscape made up of a cat’s cradle of voices and the crackle of old recordings. You can probably tell whether you’ll respond to di Prima by the way you respond to the idea of a “beat writer”, but I found the result hypnotic.

 

Listen Out For: On Portobello Prom, Radio 4, tomorrow, 7.45pm

Sara Sheridan’s short story about young love and big decisions is read by Jessica Hardwick.