Self-censorship won’t help the BBC or its viewers

by Greg McDonald

Mock the Week’s cruel jibe about Becky Adlington’s appearance was the sort of cheap bullying the “character” propping up your local bar would be ashamed to call comedy – but that doesn’t justify outlawing things simply because they offend us.

Yet the BBC Trust’s new guidelines on comedy do precisely that.

And while the Trust is surely right to lance as "humiliating" Frankie Boyle's squalid line that Adlington resembles someone "looking at themselves in the back of a spoon", the regulatory body has a difficult balance to strike.

For while thick-skinned celebrities may graciously forgive being called a “Paki” and hardened political leaders may laugh at being called a “one-eyed idiot”, it’s not such a giggle when these lines are repeated in the playground.

Yet as cheap as Boyle’s line was, perhaps the greater danger is that banning “offensive” routines sets us on a slippery slope to censorship.

For at its irreverent best, as in BBC shows like The Office and Have I Got News For You, comedy can undermine prejudice, challenge ignorance and open eyes – indeed, it’s a shame Rory Bremner won’t be sitting opposite the BNP’s Nick Griffin on Thursday’s Question Time, for if we need a reminder of the dangers of censorship we need look no further than Nazism.

The BBC Trust is right that Frankie Boyle’s joke was offensive rubbish we could do without – but censorship remains the greater evil.

A long way from reality

by Greg McDonald

A star is born! Yes, the irresistible sob story of Britain’s Got Talent warbler Susan Boyle’s overnight transformation from unkissed spinster to Britain’s best loved soprano is a producer’s dream – and represents all that’s shallow and ugly about Britain.

In case you missed Saturday’s freak show, muck-raker Piers Morgan gulped, rent-a-blonde Amanda Holden blubbed, and nobody noticed that Boyle’s performance – consistently off time, occasionally off key, weak on the high notes – was world-class theatre and remedial class karaoke.

Of course, the roaring mob weren’t there to listen – they were there to see slightly funny-looking people humiliated.

And that would be revolting enough – but to the talentless wannabes queuing round the block, the wider lesson of reality TV stardom couldn’t be clearer: why graft away thanklessly in a society where quiet work is no match for a mediocrity with a sob story?

The interest in Susan Boyle – like that in Jade Goody and the world’s ultimate reality TV star, Princess Di, 20 years earlier – is not the enduring compassion felt for family and friends: it’s a cheap diversion like that provided by a soap character.

In bored lunch breaks we thrill to hear that Kerry’s back on coke! Diana’s got cellulite! Jade’s sickness has worsened! Whether the star lives or dies is inconsequential. What bothers us is that there’s a new titbit.

For Susan Boyle’s sake I hope she gets trounced in the show. But more likely she’ll be next on the treadmill: shy Diana Spencer, pig-faced Jade Goody, unkissable Susan Boyle – transformed into princesses by the froggy kiss of fairytale fame! Isn’t it time we grew up?

Bring back public service sportcasting

By Greg McDonald

Millions watching last night’s FA Cup derby between Everton and Liverpool saw ITV make an inexplicable goal-missing blunder, which should prompt a long overdue change in our attitude to televised sport.

By missing the only goal of a two-hour encounter by cutting to unscheduled adverts during the dying minutes in many regions, ITV made the best possible argument for our national sports being shown free and uninterrupted on the BBC.

Unlike American football fans, for whom sport is the bits between the Coke ads, British football fans pay a license fee to the Beeb, and it’s time we demanded our money’s worth.

National sports like football, cricket and tennis owe their success not to commercial channels or a few greedy stars, but to hundreds of years of communal culture in which rules have developed, techniques have evolved, fitness has advanced, and a unique character has emerged as one generation inspires the next.

We whine that not enough of our kids want to play sport – but it’s hard to be inspired by Steven Gerrard when he only plays on Setanta at the Dog and Duck and under-18s aren’t allowed in.

It’s time we – the kids especially – all got our sports back, particularly since the tedious old argument that the BBC shows too much sport is long out of date in a digital age of vastly increased choice.

Sport is part of our national culture and common heritage. Last night’s ITV bungle was mere incompetence – the wider acquisition and exploitation of our common culture is inexcusable.