“Whatever you say, say nothing,

…when you talk about you know what …”

So the song goes. And it fits a certain forelock tugging, fawning to authority picture we Irish have of ourselves. Mind your own business. Say nothing to no one. Mind your back.

As inquiries into child abuse and investigative reports into Church and State handling of sex abuse allegations against clerics are published, it’s difficult to ascertain just who knew what.

How could such a thing happen on such a scale and so few people have the guts to say anything? Let us be clear what we are talking about here, the systematic rape and torture of children, children, by those trusted to take care of them. Adults the children called Mother, Father, Sister, Brother.

2011 was the year the cover was blown.

The Taoiseach lambasted the church following the publication of the Cloyne Report , “This is not Rome,” he said. “This is the ‘Republic’ of Ireland 2011 … where the delinquency and arrogance of a particular version of a particular kind of ‘morality’ will no longer be tolerated or ignored.”

And then came the plays.  In an extraordinary year for theatre, young companies and writers produced searingly honest, uncomfortable and deeply moving work that charts the fall out and aftershock.

And you realize the ‘saying nothing’ wasn’t simply obsequiousness, it was fear. And in the case of The Blue Boy the silence is an eloquent reminder of children robbed of their voice.

Well, the lid is off. The Vatican recalled the Papal Nuncio, our Government recalled our Ambassador. We’re out of control. Free to answer back. To tell. To make. My faith in Irish theatre has been restored.