Bashing the Beeb

The first of January is a time for fresh starts, new beginnings and changed behaviours. Most of us probably spent the best part of today nursing sore heads and swearing 'never again', some might even have come up with a resolution or two.

But not everyone is so keen on the concept of self-improvement; they're more than happy to keep doing the same things and pursuing the same predictably unhealthy activities. Take the Taxpayers' Alliance, for example. Despite the fact that it clearly gives them a communal ulcer just thinking about the BBC, they keep on conducting ridiculous studies into spending within the organisation, and churning out press releases for the right wing press to regurgitate verbatim.

Today's attack on the world's most respected public broadcaster, courtesy of the Telegraph, is a searing indictment of profligate spending and wanton recklessness. According to the esteemed broadsheet, BBC executives in Cardiff have been spending "more than £1,000 a day on taxis". In total, BBC Wales spent £595,551 on taxis over the last 18 months, a sum that the paper helpfully converts into "more than 2,800 annual licence fees".

To the organisation's critics, it's of little or no consequence that BBC Wales also managed to produce 1,500 hours of TV programmes, and another 14,000 hours of radio output in the same 18-month period. Not when accusations of 'Champagne socialism' can be thrown about.

The BBC is everyone's favourite media whipping boy - its directive to represent the opinions, perspectives and communities of all the audiences it serves, means that it's destined to be forever damned by anyone who occasionally finds a contrary viewpoint receiving airtime.

And even a comprehensive diversity, representation and inclusion policy isn't enough for some people. The gay community is currently up in arms about the corporation's recent coverage of Elton and David's newborn baby. They're unhappy with the fact that Stephen Green of Christian Voice was invited to take part in a discussion of the couple's December 25th miracle birth.

Green has something of a reputation for being anti-gay, having described gay rugby player Gareth Thomas as a "wicked role model for children" and compared H from Steps to a mass-murderer. To be fair, he did help to kill our fond recollections of Tragedy and Chain Reaction. 

So it will have come as no surprise to anyone that Green wasn't planning to send a gift-wrapped breast pump to the glowing new parents, telling the BBC “This isn’t just a designer baby for Sir Elton John, this is a designer accessory… Now it seems like money can buy him anything, and so he has entered into this peculiar arrangement… The baby is a product of it. A baby needs a mother and it seems an act of pure selfishness to deprive a baby of a mother.”

PinkNews.co.uk is currently advising its readers to complain about his inclusion in the coverage of the Elton story, and for the fact that the BBC neglected to mention some of Green's more extreme views. Whilst their intentions are noble, and their outrage understandable, it's important to remember that the BBC takes its responsibility for objective coverage seriously, even if that means giving airtime to objectional viewpoints. 

There's nothing homophobic about enabling alternative voices to participate in the debate. And demanding that they be silenced or excluded is to reject the very principles on which the BBC was founded. As long as gay marriages, adoptions and surrogacy are discussion points in the media, there will be pro and con arguments demanding to be heard. 

If we use our energies to decry every perceived slight or lapse of judgement, our argument is weakened when something genuinely outrageous occurs. Nobody wants to be the boy who cried homophobic wolf. 

Hard to Miss

When Pretty Woman was released in 1990, not everyone was taken in by its post-modern take on the Cinderella story. Arguing that the film couldn't have been more fantastical if Julia Roberts had faced off against a flaming Balrog, critics accused movie producers of portraying the world's oldest profession in an irresponsibly positive light.

They had a point. Vivian may have been treated to a shopping spree on Rodeo Drive, but for most streetwalkers, real life is decidedly less romanticised. And it's fraught with danger.

As well as STDs, dubious clients and unscrupulous pimps, prostitutes have a whole bunch of other risks to contend with. Thongs can cause terrible chaffing, stilettos lead to all manner of calf and ankle complaints, and then there's the hairspray asphyxiation. As careers go, it's more fraught with peril than mining in Chile.

Over in Spain, another occupational hazard has been identified for those hard-working ladies of the night - rural traffic. Apparently, hookers plying their trade outside of the Lleida city limits are hard to spot and have been told to don the appropriate safety apparel.

The women have a simple choice (no, not in-the-front or round-the-back) - wear a high-visibility yellow vest or face a €40 fine. Local police claim that they're not unfairly targeting the girls, but the policy was necessary because they actually pose a danger to drivers.  If nothing else, it's going to make curb-crawling a hell of a lot easier. 

Still, you have to feel for the women who are now expected to ensnare sexually frustrated yokels whilst wrapped in nylon outerwear seldom seen outside of a building site. Any man who finds the luminous yellow vest sexually appealing probably isn't looking for a comely young lass to spend the evening with. 

Then again, what do I know? The Telegraph reports that a recent survey found that one in four men has paid for sex, so in theory the women could dress themselves in binbags and still not see a dip in trade. And if they decided to add a few bedazzlements to pretty up their work-wear, they'd be even easier to spot on a moonlit country road. Everybody wins. 

Pointing the finger

If you subscribe to the Richard Littlejohn worldview (and if you do I can recommend some powerful anti-psychotics), you probably think the world's going to hell in a handcart. You take a look at the youth of today, and you see a general lack of respect, work ethics and comprehensible dialect.

So whose fault is it? Well, obviously not the parents, because that causes some uncomfortable questions to be asked.

It's much easier to pass the buck and blame someone else. And today's easiest scapegoat is reality TV, particularly Big Brother and I'm A Celebrity...

A recent survey of 800 teachers found that the vast majority feel that reality TV shows have had a negative impact on pupils' behaviour. Reporting on this study, the Daily Telegraph rather cleverly picked out one quote from Robert Holroyd, Head of Repton School in Derbyshire, who said that "teachers should encourage pupils to watch the news and read quality papers including The Daily Telegraph to provide a reality check."

According to Holroyd, "An increasing number of young people think that celebrity status is available to everyone, usually through television." But I think he's missing the point. The fact is, celebrity (in its current incarnation at least) has indeed been democratised and devalued to the point that people can be elevated to that glittering status simply by remembering to turn up for work.

Thankfully, not all 'reality' shows are in his bad books - he clearly has some time for Britain's Got Talent: "At least that may make children look at their own performance and think 'what would Amanda Holden or Simon Cowell say about me?'"

So fly-on-the-wall shows are bad, but it's OK for young children to spend time worrying about how that notable icon of talent and tenacity, Amanda Holden, might judge them.

After a couple more well-chosen shout-outs for the Telegraph, the article points out that this study follows "research from the Association of Teachers and Lecturers which warned access to inappropriate TV was turning young children into Vicky Pollards." And that's precisely the problem with studies that are quick to place the blame for these kinds of social issues on popular culture.

The reason Vicky Pollard resonated with TV viewers is that, like most comedy grotesques, she represented a painfully familiar truth. Vicky didn't create chav culture, she simply reflected it.

Whether you're blaming faux-documentary formats for unsustainable ambitions for our young people, or using outdates comedy characters to define society's ills, it's clear that reality is in the eye of the beholder.

A pain in the arias

Just when you thought that the dead donkey of reality TV had endured its final flogging, along limps one more attempt at stirring emotional contestants, excitable audiences and humourless judges into a grey sludge of schedule-filling desperation. ITV's Popstar to Operastar (is that even a word?) takes successful pop singers and, well, you can probably guess the rest from the title.

But even though the show itself is as surprising as an episode of The Waltons, its nothing compared with the painfully predictable outcry from the opera enthusiasts who rushed to condemn this bastardisation of their art.

Leading the charge like Braveheart in a cravat, is Telegraph 'culture critic' Rupert Christiansen, who adopts such an elitist air it's likely he'd turn himself away from his own birthday party. You see, Rupert 'gets' opera - he can name-drop Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg, whereas the rest of us have trouble telling Westlife from Boyzone.

The contestants are 'hysterical', the audience 'moronic' and the judges 'mediocre' - but the show's greatest abuse is the way it handles the music itself. Reading the bitter, angry article, you can picture Rupert, indignantly coughing up globs of Foie Gras, as some oik out of Pop Idol butchers that song off of the football:

"All it presents is a few B and C list celebrities singing some familiar operatic numbers, using mikes. There is no attempt to present anything in dramatic context, and the arias are cut and transposed."

Honestly, next you'll be telling me that the celebrities on Masterchef aren't really chefs.

Whatever you do, don't try and tell him that it's about 'bringing opera to the masses' - "I shall explode" he promises. In fact, Rupert believes that the show will put people off opera, "confirming prejudices that it is something naff, cheesy and banal".

I think he's got it wrong. It's the aloof, inaccessible snobbery that people find so off-putting, and the idea that you need to have written a Masters thesis on La cambiale di matrimonio to even be able to buy a ticket. In fact, precisely the kind of supercilious tone that he evidences throughout his critique.

Once again, it's a case of real culture versus popular culture, and for Telegraph readers there can only ever be one winner. Broadsheets frown on 'dumbing down' and the need for emphasis through repetition.

So it's ironic that Christiansen was recycling an almost identical article that he'd published two weeks previously, slating the show for exactly the same shortcomings. Although at least in the former piece he was imaginative enough condemn the series without having actually seen it.