Ranting BBC Horrors
The red-top tabloids might be festering barrels of all that is base and contemptible in human nature, but you'd have to be a real sourpuss to deny they do come out with the occasional classic. I have no idea why the Daily Star thinks that the news that Davina McCall's flop chat-show is to be boosted - erm, in theory - by an appearance from Jordan is front-page news, but it does allow them to use the magnificent headline "POUTY TO SAVE SHOUTY". Actually, that was probably why they put it there.
The failure of McCall's chat show is, of course, a symptom of where the BBC are going wrong so often at the moment. They assume, for some reason, that when people turn on personality-led entertainment they want to be hectored and shouted at. Look at Radio 1 - for all I know, Zane Lowe's show might be as good a mix of music as Mark Radcliffe's, if not better. I don't know, because as soon as I hear the bellowing wanker start up his 'edgy' between-song chat, I throw the radio through a plate-glass window.
(Obvious, too, to point out that Radio 1 is and has been for some years a weird looking-glass version of its 1980s self; just as conservative and vacuous, but with a superficial veneer of coolness. I like to think that there's some poor functionary in the basement whose job it is to update all those horrid old Rayjo Wun catchphrases with trendy 'dark' elements. "Don't RAPE that dial!" "It's a lovely sunny afternoon, and it's twenty-five Rayjo Wun minutes to CANCER OF THE BALLS...")
A quick note on work. It is amusing that my view of Faisal is now the entire office's view of Faisal.
Jazz: I didn't want to tell him that you knew [about his booze blow-out yesterday], because it would have implicated you.
Me: Yeah, I guessed, I tagged along with it. Thanks for that.
Jazz: Now, if it was Faisal, I wouldn't have done that.
Me: You'd have said he bought you the bottle, chose the brand...
Jazz: Tied me to a chair and hooked it up to my veins...
The failure of McCall's chat show is, of course, a symptom of where the BBC are going wrong so often at the moment. They assume, for some reason, that when people turn on personality-led entertainment they want to be hectored and shouted at. Look at Radio 1 - for all I know, Zane Lowe's show might be as good a mix of music as Mark Radcliffe's, if not better. I don't know, because as soon as I hear the bellowing wanker start up his 'edgy' between-song chat, I throw the radio through a plate-glass window.
(Obvious, too, to point out that Radio 1 is and has been for some years a weird looking-glass version of its 1980s self; just as conservative and vacuous, but with a superficial veneer of coolness. I like to think that there's some poor functionary in the basement whose job it is to update all those horrid old Rayjo Wun catchphrases with trendy 'dark' elements. "Don't RAPE that dial!" "It's a lovely sunny afternoon, and it's twenty-five Rayjo Wun minutes to CANCER OF THE BALLS...")
A quick note on work. It is amusing that my view of Faisal is now the entire office's view of Faisal.
Jazz: I didn't want to tell him that you knew [about his booze blow-out yesterday], because it would have implicated you.
Me: Yeah, I guessed, I tagged along with it. Thanks for that.
Jazz: Now, if it was Faisal, I wouldn't have done that.
Me: You'd have said he bought you the bottle, chose the brand...
Jazz: Tied me to a chair and hooked it up to my veins...