The Future Now

The BBC gets it right for once

The BBC's decision no longer to use Carol Thatcher to work as a 'roving reporter' on its peak time The One Show suggests the corporation might finally have got its balls back.

In a conversation in the green room after a broadcast, Thatcher referred to an unnamed black tennis player as a golliwog.  Despite being given ample opportunity to apologise publicly, she has declined to do so.

This is not a case of political correctness gone mad.  This is a well-known public figure (if only because she is the daughter of a former prime minister) making a blatantly racist statement in a room full of TV people and journalists.

Thatcher's response - that she only used the term jokingly - is typical of many of her ilk who simply don't understand the power of language to reinforce prejudice.  Despite great progress, there are still millions of people with deeply racist attitudes.  When they hear a well-known public figure use such language it can only serve to reaffirm their outdated and bigoted beliefs.

There are only two positions in the debate about racism and racist language.  Either you accept racism and see such language as harmless fun, or you oppose it and condemn language that gives succor to racists.  Thankfully the BBC has seen fit to do the former.  In doing so, it redeems itself, slightly, for its refusal to give airtime to the Disasters Emergency Committee appeal for Gaza.

Please get lost in the jungle

The only good thing about Brian Paddick signing up to appear in the upcoming series of I'm a celebrity get me out of here is that it should put a permanent end to his political career.

His candidacy for Mayor of London under the Lib-Dem banner did untold damage to that party's future electoral prospects at a time when Britain desperately needs a strong third party to counter the conservatism of Labour and the Tories.

The new series will likely have two things in common with the mayoral election campaign:  Paddick will lose badly and in the process will piss everybody off, including most of his putative supporters.

Apart from having to endure the slimy Ant and Dec, the new series should make entertaining viewing though, peppered as it is with the usual mix of ego-driven attention seekers, and ex-soap and pop stars trying to revive their flagging careers.

Ester Rantzen really should have been put out to grass long ago.  And quite what Martina Navratilova is doing there I don't know - surely she doesn't need the money.

Simon Schama, Magnus Pike and the typical blowhard

Alongside the obvious pleasure at Barack Obama's victory in this week's presidential election, there was much to smile at in the election coverage.  The sight of Jeremy Vine on the BBC struggling to get his touch screen controlled map of the United States to work properly will have brought pleasure to many people who, like me, spend hours cursing such devices for their inability to deliver a simple train ticket.

But the highlight of the last week has to be Simon Schama's pre-election rebuttal of a rather unpleasant American gentleman on Question Time from New York.  Against my better judgement I really rather like Schama, although as you can see from the clip, without his own production team to restrain his bizzare limb, and indeed whole body, movements, he is rapidly turning himself into a new Magnus Pike for the noughties.

Why can't we do it?

For me, the 1950s and 1960s are perhaps the most interesting decades of the twentieth century.  Admittedly, they came after two world wars and the biggest depression in history, and they preceded the free-market revolution which laid the foundations for economic globalisation.  Nonetheless, what happened socially and culturally in these two decades set the political agenda for every decade since; and helps to explain why our social and moral aspirations are now so out of synch which the direction of economic advance.

If you doubt me, you should tune into Mad Men, the latest quality drama from the United States.  As most critics are saying, it is almost perfect: rarely can a TV drama have re-created an only recently bygone age so effectively.  Watching last night's episode, I quickly forgot it was television, it's almost too good for that medium.

I have long wondered why the Americans are so good at producing top quality original drama when we Brits have such a poor track record, especially recently.  You can only flog the Poliakoff horse so often.

In yesterday's Observer, Will Hutton had a go at answering that question with some success.  Although his conclusions do not bode well for the prospects of a revival in British TV drama.

As he says,

Too many people believe public-service broadcasting is outdated, hindering television; it will take a cultural revolution at the channel to persuade commissioners that paradoxically the best way of systematically delivering great programmes in a British market is to fuse public-service broadcasting values with commerciality.

Hutton's article is worth a read, and if you haven't watched Mad Men yet, there are two repeats of this weeks episode: on Tuesday evening on BBC2, and again on Thursday evening on BBC4 (yes, it's on the Beeb so no bloody commercials!).

Sharing a bed with Graham Norton

I guess you know you've made it, admittedly in a rather strange kind of way, when, as you help him manoeuvre an unbelievably heavy mattress up impossibly awkward stairs, the courier who delivers your new bed says,

You're in good company, guess who I just delivered a bed to?  Only Graham Norton.

Not only did Mr Norton help carry in some of the bits (although his assistant dealt with the mattress) but according to my man, he was charming throughout.

I'm also able to report that he only has a standard 6' 6'' bed.  Ours is 7' long (made to order).  So last night, for the first time since I was 14, I slept in my own bed without my feet hanging off the end.  And a darn good night's sleep it was too, thanks to the clever, helpful and efficient people at Bedsteads.

Selling myths on television

This is a good little piece by Ros Coward, who points out something that's quite obvious but has gone largely uncommented on: the way television, both commercial and public service, has been used to promote the recent craze for investing in residential property. 

It's fair to say that the decisions of commissioning editors in respect of the multitude of property programmes that have hit our screens in recent years have had a direct impact on house prices, particularly at the lower end of the market where first time buyers are struggling like never before.

As Coward says,

Its hard to imagine another business being given a free rein to promote its worldview on television like this. Especially one with such important consequences for individual lives.

Absolutely right, its another example of how every every corner of our culture is now subject to a relentless pressure to commercialise.  And another example of the fallacy that everyone can become rich quick if they'd just take a few risks.

A home is a place to live: everyone should have the right to a home, and to home ownership if that's their choice.  By treating home ownership principally as an investment opportunity, we have created conditions in which growing numbers are denied those rights.

Buttocks are not a sexual organ

This unbelievable but true story from Fred Foldvary over at The Progress Report provides another reminder of why the world, and growing numbers of Americans, are so looking forward to George Bush's departure from the White House and his likely replacement by a Democrat, be it Barack Obama or Hillary Clinton.

The cultural impact of such a seismic change in the corridors of power will be considerable.  Although neither has yet made any reference to specific parts of the human anatomy in their campaign speeches (as far as I am aware), I'm sure Obama and Clinton would both take a much more sensible approach to uncovered buttocks on national television.

Ski-less Sunday

I have a piece over at comment is free just now lamenting the dumbing down of much of what is shown on TV these days.  Specifically the new format applied to the BBC's Ski Sunday which, on the evidence of last weekend's programme, has pretty much dispensed with skiing.

A sense of humour at the BBC

Someone at the BBC must be having a laugh.  They've put a reporter on the Greenpeace ship, Esperanza, tracking the highly dubious Japanese whaling fleet in the southern ocean.  Our intrepid correspondent's name?  You guessed it: Jonah.

Fiona Bruce managed to introduce his report last night without so much as a wry smile, but thankfully at least one sub at the BBC has got the joke.