Yes, it gives Nigel Farage too much airtime. Yes, sometimes it makes me want to bang my head on the desk. But for better or worse, it's oursby Stuart Maconie / February 16, 2018 / Leave a comment
Ironically, the tweets and texts started to ping into my hand as I strolled across a freezing piazza to pick up my new BBC pass. Yes, Salford does have a piazza—and whilst it may not quite be Venice’s St Marco, what it lacks in overpriced buskers it makes up for in statues of Pudsey, Petra the Blue Peter dog and Oopsy Daisy from In the Night Garden.
Salford is the home of the BBC’s MediaCity, its base in the north. When it opened in 2012, it attracted no small amount of footstamping ire from those broadsheet journalists who would now have to get a train to the frozen north to plug their efforts on “the sofa.”
This time, the commotion was started by Andrew Adonis, Blairite wonk turned ennobled adviser to this and that. He was causing some minor kerfuffle with a “random” (as the kids would say) tweet about the BBC. Oddly inelegant and apropos of little, it had the flavour of one of Trump’s three AM whinges about CNN.
“BBC on the ropes” it said, going on to delineate its many failings chez Adonis in the realms of sport, news and drama before making the obligatory laudatory noises about Desert Island Discs and (marvelous) foreign correspondents. I was amazed he didn’t mention the Shipping Forecast and Gardeners Question Time.
God, Auntie and Wigan Athletic
Given, as one of its many freelance employees, my almost daily vexation and incomprehension at the workings of the BBC I was surprised at my reaction—which was to jump up, fists clenched and coat off, to its defense like the punchy mate in a pub fight.