Irreverence on Radio 2

Paul O'Grady. Picture: BBC News

Thank the Lord for Paul O’Grady.

I am technically still boycotting Radio 2, in the post-Jonathan Ross/Russell Brand era, with a weary reluctance to return to what Miranda Sawyer has called its old-style golf club and cardigan programming. But some of my radios are still pre-tuned to the station, hence yesterday afternoon in the car I caught Mr O’Grady covering for someone on Radio 2, in his words, “online, on digital and on medication”.

He immediately apologised for his irreverence, insisting he’s not a radio professional and was merely “helping out”, presumably at the last minute. Thing is, when a personality doesn’t need to care about what they’re doing, they are usually at their best. Hence also O’Grady’s adlib after reading out a demurely worded apology for some “language” in a particular musical number. “What language? There was no language. Please God, can we not go back to a world of Songs of Praise and Alan Titchmarsh,” intoned Mr O’Grady in his trademark Scouse.

Hear, hear, Paul. And you were great. I doubt you’ll be invited back. Pity ex-Radio 2 controller Lesley Douglas: years of work kicking Parky and the like off air, all undone in the space of two weekends.



ITV chairman Michael Grade 

Swearing is a subject close to my pysche and, since I read something by Stephen Fry in which he swore blind to stick to swearing because he enjoys it, I’ve become even more addicted to it.

But like all behaviour, some people like it and some people don’t. Sometimes it’s inappropriate. Sometimes you can’t help yourself. Since the Jonathan Ross/Andrew Sachs row last week, swearing on TV and radio has been under the spotlight although, let’s face it, it’s a perennial topic for the ‘country has gone to the dogs’ brigade who read the Mail and Telegraph.

The ‘debate’ about swearing was further stoked on Monday when ITV chairman Michael Grade was asked a question at a BPG lunch with journalists. Grade complied by saying “the prevalence of the F-word is a little bit unrestrained”.

Before we go on, can we just stop being lazy and say something true for a moment? Standards of behaviour and language aren’t slipping. That’s a subjective, pejorative judgement. Standards are CHANGING – they are always changing. Language can be offensive, always will be, but it’s a moveable feast. That’s why we have editors and people to make judgements about what is or isn’t appropriate in a certain context. (Except on a blog, of course, where’s it’s just me fucking things up.)

For Christ’s sake (sorry, Christians), if we eradicate all comment or entertainment that is potentially offensive to some people from our airwaves we will merely be left with Richard Allinson, Ken Bruce and Fiona Bruce (no relation). Then I will have to kill myself. Barack Obama winning the US election is wonderful; but who and what is broadcast on the BBC that I pay for has far more immediate impact on my life. I look at the Mirror’s ‘Stop Swearing on the Telly’ campaign and shudder.

While I’m ranting, Radio 2 has made a mistake with Michael Ball on Sunday lunchtimes. I wasn’t a fan of Parky who was super-annuated and had started slurring his words as old people somtimes do. But Ball is just a chubby singer who is presumably popular with ladies of a certain age. His interview with Philip Glenister last Sunday exposed Ball as woefully unwitty and poorly educated. Get him off. Glenister would be better, though I doubt he’d do it.

Can’t comment on other TV/radio stuff as I am truly disenchanted with the whole blinking lot and not watching/listening to much. Won’t get to see Mock the Week tonight as I’m socialising. Missed Little Dorritt as I was in a TV-free house last week. Will try to find them on the iPlayer if I can be arsed.


Pause for thought

I should just move on. I’ve suffered sudden bereavement before. But I can’t help wondering whether Jonathan Ross will return to BBC 1 and Radio 2 after his three-month suspension. Jeremy Vine and Terry Wogan have apparently cast doubt on the idea.

For what it’s worth, I reckon Ross and his agent Addison Cresswell will wait to see what the BBC internal inquiry reveals on November 20 before deciding whether to return or not and that will depend on how the BBC and boss Mark Thompson handle the thing at that point.

Thompson could still exonerate himself in this ridiculous affair by saying he had to pull Ross off air because of the scale of the reaction to the faux pas on the Russell Brand Show (35,000 complaints). If Thompson blamed the newspapers and online media for stoking the reaction, rather than blaming Ross and Brand for the original broadcast, and if Thompson holds Radio 2 managers responsible for letting the stuff be broadcast, he might just come out of this with a bit of editorial integrity left.

Also for what it’s worth, those journalists who helped gun down Ross last week might just be persuaded that Ross is a talented broadcaster, even if we all agree that after nine years on Radio 2 his show had become formulaic. (So is Terry Wogan’s but millions still tune into it.) But as a TV journalist for The Sun told me last week, journos were equally keen to have a go at Addison Cresswell who is, to all intents and purposes, a pretty tricky character to deal with. Which probably makes him a rather good agent. Can he bring Ross back from the brink of obscurity for a second time in the broadcaster’s career?


So here’s the thing (Warning: this post contains strong language)

 Brand and Ross BBC DG Mark Thompson

This is the sort of intro Jonathan Ross used all the time on his Saturday Radio 2 show, before he was hysterically pulled off air by Mark Thompson last week in the Andrew Sachs row. I like “Here’s the thing” as an intro – it’s kind of American, a bit crass and ungrammatical but it absolutely lets you the listener know there’s a “thing” coming. The smile, if there’s one to be had, is in hearing what “the thing” is – it could be a piece of mindless trivia or a thought so profound that even Oxford-educated, staunch Catholic Mark Thompson hasn’t had it, standing on the side of a smouldering Mount Etna as he supposedly was last Monday while thousands of Britons were phoning the BBC to complain about what they’d read about in the Mail on Sunday and Sunday Telegraph.

So here’s the thing. I am bang in the middle of the target audience for Jonathan Ross’ erstwhile Radio 2 show. A late thirty-something mother of two, invariably at home or in the car on a Saturday morning with the radio on. I try to take care of my kids; I get stressed out by stuff; I like a laugh; I swear a lot although I try to observe decorum; I am sometimes hungover; I like some things; I hate a lot of other things. Blah di blah blah blah. Even on a blog I’m not going to definitively list my credo.

But because of the bile of a few journalists and editors who brought the public’s attention to a broadcast which precisely two people had complained about when they heard it, I cannot now listen to Jonathan Ross on a Saturday for at least the next three months nor can I try to stay awake until his final guest appears on the pre-recorded Friday Night with Jonathan Ross. That pisses me off. I might even complain to the BBC.

Those responsible for Ross’ downfall (I’m ignoring Russell Brand here because I’m not that familiar with his work apart from his Booky Wook which was quite entertaining) say one of two things about his suspension from the airwaves. Either Ross has done something unspeakable in the supposed phone calls to actor Andrew Sachs and deserves the punishment. Or Ross needed to be brought down a peg or two and deserves this punishment.

The idea of bringing Ross down a peg or two is all about how much he’s paid and how ubiquitous he is. Let’s go back to June 2006 when the then BBC 1 controller Peter Fincham signed Ross to the BBC for a further three years. At the time, the Mirror reported Ross would earn £6m a year under the new deal. That has now become gospel, though Ross himself has said it’s not that much and a BBC entertainment source has said the BBC is paying Ross substantially less than commercial rivals (C4, ITV) had offered him to jump ship from the BBC.

I was in the room at the Rose d’Or TV festival in Montreux in 2001 when the BBC signed Johnny Vaughan (tragically) for an exclusive deal and tabloid journalists wanted to know how much Vaughan would earn. Obviously, Vaughan and the various execs present refused to get into the detail, instead asking one femail journalist, the leader of the inquisition, how much she earnt. She replied with good grace – but still didn’t get the info out of Vaughan or the Beeb.

When the TV types had left the room, the leading hack said something like “I reckon it’s about £4m a year” and everyone else agreed. They wrote it down, the next day the stories were published and the figure passed into history.

But even if those semi-made up figures were true, the budget a broadcaster attaches to a show such as Norton’s or Ross’ includes production fees such as studio and crew hire. The presenter takes a good chunk of the budget but not all of it. Ross was supposed – according to that article back in 2006 – to be earning £530,000 a year for his Radio 2 show. So he’s getting another £5.5m a year for the Friday chat show and Film 2008? I don’t think so.

All of that is what the point is not. The point is, the BBC should pretty quickly and pretty loudly puncture the half-truths around these presenter salary stories that go into the collective consciousness (ie the electronic archive of newspapers). If the general public but particularly a handful of malicious journalists didn’t have such a bee in their bonnet about Ross being the BBC’s “£18m man” they wouldn’t have been so desperate to bring him down last week.

Ross is not, as one TV correspondent said to me last week, arrogant and a prima donna. At least, he doesn’t come across that way on the radio. If he talks about his own life, and he often does in skits about having work done on the house, looking after his kids etc etc, he’s always gracious enough to acknowledge he’s rich as Croesus and can afford to either stay in a hotel or has lots of paid help with the family etc etc. He doesn’t sound arrogant, he sounds honest.

And I shall not be jumping aboard the now fashionable media bandwagon bearing those who say Ross and Brand’s broadcast at the heart of this row was puerile, disgraceful or whatever. Show me a journalist in the country who isn’t puerile and disgraceful as they sit in the comfort of their newsroom calling people a bunch of cunts who have it coming to them in whatever context.

Sometimes people are disgraceful. Particularly journalists working in a quickfire, usually macho culture where decisions are made under pressure to get words and pictures on a page, screen or wireless. Sometimes language is offensive; sometimes it helps dispel the reality of a situation, as when a news editor I worked with yelled across the room about an obituary “What page are we putting the stiff on?” Clearly, to some people, that “stiff” was a much loved and sadly missed person. But it still makes me laugh and context is everything as is separation of target audiences, as any economist knows.

Last but not least, the BBC must surely dwell on the precise timing of the various interventions in the row in its future rumblings on this whole fracas (an inquiry is being led by BBC “head of music and audio” Tim Davie and is due to report on 20 November. Let’s hope its first conclusion will be that we can still call audio radio).

It’s not good enough for Thompson to protest that the BBC issued a full and frank apology the day after the Mail on Sunday’s story broke. A named BBC executive – Thompson himself – didn’t speak out until Wednesday morning, after both David Cameron and Gordon Brown had waded into the row on Tuesday. As with Crowngate, Thompson was very much reacting to the tidal wave of complaint, not anticipating it which doesn’t sit well with his categoric rejection of Ross’ and Brand’s comments. If he thought they were that bad he should have said so immediately, not waited for the politicians and press to set the agenda.


Mark Thompson is utterly spineless

11.49am Wednesday 29 October 2008 and news has just broken that the BBC director general has decided to pull Jonathan Ross and Russell Brand off the air while their lewd prank call to Andrew Sachs is investigated. Such is the scale of this row today. On Monday it was being covered on a few websites; today every single national newspaper has the story on its front page. At the last count, according to Radio 2’s 11am news bulletin, complaints to the BBC had reached 18,000.

Jeremy Vine is shortly to feature a discussion on the whole thing, no doubt inflating the issue further. But the BBC and Radio 2 can hardly avoid such a massive story, even if it is at the centre of the storm. I can feel Stuart Maconie’s nervousness, covering this week for Ken Bruce on Radio 2, as he hastily backtracks on every slight joke at someone’s expense to point out that it is in fact a joke and no offence is intended. Nerves must be truly wracked at BBC Towers.

But Thompson’s decision – announced in a statement, issued while Thompson is on holiday, presumably trying to enjoy half term like the rest of us – to suspend Ross and Brand from broadcasting duties is spineless in the extreme. Just like the excessive hand-wringing over the so-called Crowngate affair last year, in which the BBC showed misleading footage of the Queen to a bunch of journalists, Thompson has crumbled too soon.

I know Thompson was effectively brought in in the wake of Greg Dyke, who was bounced out of the BBC for having the temerity to preside over a broadcast that questioned the government’s claims on Iraq’s weapons of massive destruction. You’d expect a more conciliatory approach from any successor to Dyke. But the BBC needs a stronger champion than it’s currently got in Thompson.

Given the scale of the reaction to this story about Sachs, Ross and Brand (whipped up the media, of course), Thompson should of course have broken his holiday silence to issue a full and frank apology. But he should then have gone on to say there is a due process for such complaints, allowing the inquiry which is due to end on 20 November to take place. Then it should be decided what to do with Ross, Brand and the various execs including Radio 2 controller Lesley Douglas who sanctioned the broadcast. Even Peter Mandelson was investigated before being ceremoniously ejected from the cabinet on the last few occasions.

Once again, Thompson has been too previous with the cat-o-nine-tails and let MPs and his own media bully him into a hasty decision. I for one won’t be listening to whoever sits in for Ross on Radio 2 on Saturday and I hope the crew who were expecting to record Jonathan Ross’ chat show as usual tomorrow night will still get paid, despite having no show to produce this week.


Jonathan Ross, Russell Brand and THAT phone call

OK, so these are the lengths I will go to, to keep abreast of meeja issues while I am a) unofficially on holiday (ie taking calls and juggling freelance commitments, but essentially just listening to the radio all day) and b) redecorating my dead mother’s house in a bid to buck the plummeting housing market. Like a bit of natural hessian paint is going to make a difference and like this is actually a holiday.

I have just listened to a bad YouTube recording of Russell Brand and Jonathan Ross’s now world-famous prank call to Andrew Sachs’ answer phone, which featured in Brand’s Saturday night Radio 2 show on 18 October. As I write it is Tuesday 29 October and today the number of complaints to the BBC over this incident has risen from around 4,500 (about the number of complaints the Beeb had about Jerry Springer, the Opera – and that was an orchestrated campaign) to more than 10,000. The day started with ex-BBC chairman Sir Christopher Bland and comedian Alexander Armstrong commenting on the story and ended with prime minister Gordon Brown referring to Ross, Brand and Sachs by name. What has the world come to?

Most noteworthy, for me, was the means by which I tracked down the actual broadcast. I am almost in media limbo with only the wind-up radio and dial-up internet via a mobile phone for company. So listening to the extract from Brand’s show involved buffering literally every 3 seconds. Yet I persisted, for the duration of the 4 minute 48 second clip I chose on YouTube. All I got for my pains was Jonathan Ross shrieking “He fucked yer grand-daughter” during the duo’s first answer phone message.

Granted, the words grand-daughter and fuck aren’t often combined in the same sentence, but I doubt whether it was an out and out first on either the part of Jonathan Ross or the BBC. Yet it was on this basis that Sachs took offence, complained to the BBC and an astonishing 10,400 have so far done the same. Surely someone is orchestrating this as a campaign? There were just 67 complaints on Monday, before the MediaGuardian and others went big on the story.

All those mitherers should just leave Jonathan Ross and Russell Brand alone and get a sense of perspective. Far worse things are said every week on Have I Got News for You and on Jonathan Ross’ other shows – not to mention Brand’s, which naturally I don’t listen to having something of a life on Saturday nights. If these entertainers weren’t allowed to push the boundaries of taste they wouldn’t be worth listening to. Just look at Graham Norton since he moved to the BBC – no surfing the internet for glove fetishists who will flick themselves off as Joan Collins removes a pair of elbow-length black numbers. It just isn’t the same and, as a result, Norton doesn’t get the critical attention or, dare I say it, the ratings he used to at C4. We don’t want the same fate to befall Ross or Brand.


Old timer makes an arse of himself

A short postscript to my (rather long) post about the BPG lunch with the BBC’s Michael Lyons. Sadly, not all BPG members are as young as they used to be. Quite a few are freelance (including yours truly) and quite a few probably haven’t hacked in earnest for years (I am not, yet, one of their number). I hesitate to use the term old fart, but you can see where I’m coming from.

So Sir Michael had to endure a few questions along the familiar lines of “why does the BBC have to be so damn popular and air such popular things, instead of making things that are more PUBLIC SERVICE?” by which the questioner usually means “boring”.

The obvious answer is the BBC has to be universally popular because it’s funded by a compulsory tax, the licence fee. Lyons banged on about being convinced by a particular piece of research that the BBC does not “make a market” by paying Jonathan Ross millions of pounds a year, but responds to the market and pays market rates for talent the BBC cannot do without. Hear hear.

Our intrepid (ex-)correspondent wasn’t amused, however, and was still muttering about a waste of taxpayers money as he collected his coat. I suggested his idea that the BBC should stop showing “popular” programming might leave the BBC looking like PBS in the States which is, as I understand it, really quite dull. I’ve never actually watched it. This aged journalist said no, it’s not at all dull. It airs two-hour debates of an evening on really important subjects. I rest my case.

You will be delighted to know I then found this ancient, male simulacrum of a journalist in the ladies loo. He was presumably unable to decipher the minimalist M and F glazed lettering on the lavvy doors. Note to self: give up when you get embarrassing.