Campaign castrated

Before dinner I was watching the George Alagiah show at 6 o’clock on BBC1. He referred to today’s Gordon Brown ‘bigot’ gaffe four times. First in his preamble, then in the main story which was again summarised after the mid-show break (during which gesticulating George as the star of the show shuffles and sometimes signs his papers, pretending that he is not reading the idiot board), then finally in his closing summary. This from the BBC which the Right claim has a Left wing bias!

Having dealt reasonably deftly with a chance encounter with a certain Mrs Duffy, she and Mr Brown went their separate ways on good terms. Mr Brown climbed into his official car with his microphone inadvertently switched on and effectively castrated his new ‘communicating with the people’ campaign with a careless aside made in private, so he thought.

One might argue over whether the Prime Minister should have made such comments but leaving that aside, what did broadcasting a private conversation achieve? The effect on Mrs Duffy being forced to listen to hurtful comments eagerly egged on by one of Murdoch’s Sky reporters was devastating judging from her televised reaction. A struggling widow concerned about the future of her grandchildren, she had been justifiably pleased that she had done her best for them by expressing her concerns directly to the Prime Minister. Now she is left dazed at the centre of a media scrum with policemen guarding her door.

As ever The Telegraph has been at the forefront reminding the public of previous gaffs by public figures but let’s face it, many of us make comments which we wouldn’t want broadcast, sometimes in vain attempts at humour, other times out of sheer annoyance just to let off steam. Things said in the heat of the moment rarely add anything meaningful to debate. The issues remain the same and, in this instance, with the same question: Who is best placed to sort out the problems we all face? If it were Gordon Brown (I am not suggesting that he is) what service has been provided by divulging information that should have remained private? We are no wiser, nothing has been solved and a poor widow has been reduced from elation to despair. What a good show!

Round 2

From yesterday's Fabian Society Blog, Next Left:

"The Sun's political editor has been reported saying "It is my job to see that Cameron ****ing well gets into Downing Street”.

Despite earlier rumours, BBC political editor Nick Robinson has suggested tonight that The Sun did not, after discussions, buy the story or any exclusive interview with Mrs Gillian Duffy after today's political storm after Gordon Brown's insult, because they did not think it was "interesting" enough."

Need one say more?

On Newsreaders and Weatherpersons

Perhaps I should have used the title "In Praise of Ben Brown". Increasingly irritated by current news/weather personalities, Ben stands out as an old school model which other media persons would do well to follow. His unassuming reporting and news reading present content without imposing himself. Come back Moira Stewart! Spare us from gesticulating somebodies, unable or unwilling to sit down. We even have some on the fringe channels with just one cheek wedged on a ledge and a laptop perched on a pillar for balance. But I am a BBC man at heart.

As an ancient Briton I have fond memories of those glory days when the original McDonald, McDonald Hobley, resplendent in DJ, and Sylvia Peters looking sufficiently alluring without having to glare seductively into the camera made watching television a pleasure without distracting irritants.

What has triggered this outburst? Principally gesticulating George, OBE - no, not 'other buggers' efforts' as some would have it but an Officer of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire no less, though a lot less than the later McDonald, Sir Trevor of the opposition channel.

Whether reading the news or reporting from afar the ever popular George waves his arms about like a graduate from the Toscanini School of Conducting, stabbing here, pointing there as though the news has no impact without his personal intervention. Now they're all at it. And what does he scribble on his script at the half-time break? Probably "Up yours Humphrys!" after the BBC's Rottweiler reportedly said, “You are on air for about four minutes by the time they have taken out all the filmed reports and everything else, reading from an autocue. It's not a job for a grown man, I'm afraid, or woman." Perhaps that is why George pads out his show by dismissing reporters with an "Alright [whoever]" after they've delivered their minor walk on parts. To conclude his bulletin we have a grinning introduction to the football item as if to say, alright we've got over the dull stuff, now for the really interesting bit before you have the news from where you are. Regional and local news perhaps?

And what of today's Weatherpersons? (I avoid the term 'Weatherman' because it will offend those of a delicate PC disposition while 'Weatherwoman' sounds too much like Wonderwoman. - Close!). Apart from the odd exception they illustrate the same flapping trend looking as though they went to a flying school for people with a speech impediment. Arms flying in all directions, they break their sentences into weatherspeak chunks as though two half sentences make for better weather than one. But can that be any worse than the inert who appears to have just got out of bed to deliver a monotonous confidential chat that leaves me groping for the remote? Come back Sian Lloyd, all is forgiven!