Post by Teddy Bear on Jul 6, 2012 20:00:34 GMT
I watched the last of the series last night and thought the BBC had reached a new low, if that was possible. Not only the usual majority left-wing audience and panel, but the presence of Johnny Rotten, who doesn't know just how stupid he sounds, but thinks he's intelligent, and his constant interruptions made it fairly unbearable.
Why did the BBC allow Johnny Rotten to play the pub bore on Question Time last night?
By Cristina Odone
Pub bore of the western world
"Did you see Johnny Rotten on Question Time last night?!" my friend rang, indignant, this morning. "He was the worst pub bore!"
I rushed to my computer to watch the programme. Before I could see anything a warning flashed on: the debate "Contains Strong Language". I knew who'd be to blame – Ed Davy, Alan Johnson, Louise Mensch, and Dominic Lawson would never turn the air blue. Rotten had no such qualms, though, and peppered his interventions with "crapheads" and "twat". But the foul language was not as offensive as the self-important ramblings that spewed forth from the former lead singer of the Sex Pistols.
I'm just a bystander except I have a Barclays account… this worries me, right? how on earth is Parliament going to discuss this when both sides, Left and Right are connected this, right? This is not going to work… hello? both parties are… fiddling with rates, right?
I've heard more coherent arguments at 11 pm at The Rose and Crown.
Not only did Rotten bore on. He couldn't bear anyone else to speak. He interrupted almost every contribution to make some asinine point, and drag the attention back to himself. He even interrupted a questioner from the audience, who cried out "John I love ya but will ya let me finish?" Even the unflappable David Dimbleby looked positively cross by this stage, but nothing and no one could stop the motormouth.
As he banged on about drug legalisation, "for me personally I don't want my drugs taxed", Rotten was in fact the worst possible advert for letting anyone get their hands on class A or D drugs. The anti-drugs lot could run campaigns starring this sad figure with spikey hair and ear rings: "Smoke pot and you too will end up looking like this. Droning on about "let us as human beings determine our own journey". I bet if they'd shown the young Louise Mensch what taking drugs had done to Rotten, she would have just said no. (As it is, she had to admit that her use of Class A drugs "messed with her brain" and caused "long term mental health effects" on her.)
So why was this has-been dragged into our home by Question Time? You'd have thought that the programme producers had learnt their lesson about chasing the youff audience with rockers on the panel: when they invited Alex James, the Blur bassist turned cheese-maker, on the show, he couldn't string two sentences together. ( "Look, I'm about cheese and I'm about music," he later said. "Did you see me on Question Time? Politics is just not my thing.")
I blame the BBC populist agenda: because Rotten paraded his "man of the people" credentials – "I'm a solid working class boy" – the former bad boy of rock automatically earned a place at the BBC table. I wouldn't mind if they welcomed him behind the scenes, into their production teams, as a "consultant" on street slang or drug dealers' habits. But I don't think they should impose his ranting and raving on us. If I want to listen to someone shoot off their mouth and monopolise a debate, I can go round the corner: there, at least, my money gets me a pint of lager. My television licence fee, though, gets me the bore without the beer.
By Cristina Odone
Pub bore of the western world
"Did you see Johnny Rotten on Question Time last night?!" my friend rang, indignant, this morning. "He was the worst pub bore!"
I rushed to my computer to watch the programme. Before I could see anything a warning flashed on: the debate "Contains Strong Language". I knew who'd be to blame – Ed Davy, Alan Johnson, Louise Mensch, and Dominic Lawson would never turn the air blue. Rotten had no such qualms, though, and peppered his interventions with "crapheads" and "twat". But the foul language was not as offensive as the self-important ramblings that spewed forth from the former lead singer of the Sex Pistols.
I'm just a bystander except I have a Barclays account… this worries me, right? how on earth is Parliament going to discuss this when both sides, Left and Right are connected this, right? This is not going to work… hello? both parties are… fiddling with rates, right?
I've heard more coherent arguments at 11 pm at The Rose and Crown.
Not only did Rotten bore on. He couldn't bear anyone else to speak. He interrupted almost every contribution to make some asinine point, and drag the attention back to himself. He even interrupted a questioner from the audience, who cried out "John I love ya but will ya let me finish?" Even the unflappable David Dimbleby looked positively cross by this stage, but nothing and no one could stop the motormouth.
As he banged on about drug legalisation, "for me personally I don't want my drugs taxed", Rotten was in fact the worst possible advert for letting anyone get their hands on class A or D drugs. The anti-drugs lot could run campaigns starring this sad figure with spikey hair and ear rings: "Smoke pot and you too will end up looking like this. Droning on about "let us as human beings determine our own journey". I bet if they'd shown the young Louise Mensch what taking drugs had done to Rotten, she would have just said no. (As it is, she had to admit that her use of Class A drugs "messed with her brain" and caused "long term mental health effects" on her.)
So why was this has-been dragged into our home by Question Time? You'd have thought that the programme producers had learnt their lesson about chasing the youff audience with rockers on the panel: when they invited Alex James, the Blur bassist turned cheese-maker, on the show, he couldn't string two sentences together. ( "Look, I'm about cheese and I'm about music," he later said. "Did you see me on Question Time? Politics is just not my thing.")
I blame the BBC populist agenda: because Rotten paraded his "man of the people" credentials – "I'm a solid working class boy" – the former bad boy of rock automatically earned a place at the BBC table. I wouldn't mind if they welcomed him behind the scenes, into their production teams, as a "consultant" on street slang or drug dealers' habits. But I don't think they should impose his ranting and raving on us. If I want to listen to someone shoot off their mouth and monopolise a debate, I can go round the corner: there, at least, my money gets me a pint of lager. My television licence fee, though, gets me the bore without the beer.