Does anyone love the BBC? I don’t mean love this programme or that presenter, I mean love the BBC as an idea?

There was a time when I - and all right-thinking people - would have immediately said: yes, of course. But after the events of last week I’m beginning to wonder if we Beeb lovers are in denial. The sad truth is that the BBC we grew up with and say we love has long been gone.

And the BBC is partly to blame for this. Every time I turn its television programmes on I get darts, makeover programmes or some bossy person telling me how to dress. I tell myself: well, I still love Radio 4. I couldn’t live without it. And then when I think about how much I actually listen to it, I realise I’m kidding myself. Yes, I love the Today programme, the Moral Maze, Desert Island Discs and um . . . that’s about it.

BBC controller Mark Thompson may cut staff and streamline this and merge that, but he hasn’t faced the real question: what is the BBC for? The real problem with the BBC is that it is a public service network that doesn’t believe in the ethos of public service. It got rid of that old Reithian paternalism in the 1960s, but has never really found a guiding principle to put in its place.

God knows that good old Auntie has tried to move with the times, got down and funky with digital channels, websites, magazines and even the purchase of the Lonely Planet travel series, but why?

Why can’t the BBC do what it used to do best - news, current affairs, comedy and drama, leaving the travel guides and youth market to others? I can’t imagine that young people will grow up loving the BBC the way previous generations did. Theirs is a multi-digital world and the BBC is just another viewing/listening option among many. And yet it is hell bent on trying to secure young audiences with channels like BBC3 which is a yoof nightmare.

And look at the salaries commanded by its top presenters. Thompson told a meeting of these people at the BBC that the average payment to a presenter was £375, to which Today veteran John Humphrys replied, “An hour?” He must have been thinking of Jonathan Ross’s £18m “over three years”.

I love the way the BBC always adds that “over three years” to Ross’s salary as if it will make us less annoyed.

Thompson claims that the BBC has always had to pay top dollar for talent - even in the days of Morecambe and Wise. There you have what’s wrong with the BBC.

The brilliant comedians’ Christmas special in 1977 drew an audience of 28m people. That was the BBC we all loved. We still enjoy the repeat. In 30 years’ time will audiences still be as excited to watch the likes of Ross? I doubt it.

Another opinion poll has just been published which claims that “Britain remains dominated by class division, with a huge majority certain that their social standing determines the way they are judged”. The conclusion of the poll is that, “after 10 years of Labour government, social change in Britain is almost static”.

Polls like these reinforce one of the great myths of contemporary Britain - that we are a nation “obsessed” by class. Funny, that: for the past decade most commentators in Britain have claimed we are a nation “obsessed” by celebrity. You can’t have it both ways.

Curiously, I never hear ordinary people - at bus stops, in pubs or radio phone-ins - talking about class.

The only time they discuss it is when they answer questions on class for surveys.

If you doubt the power of celebrity over class as a form of social aspiration and cultural identity, pop into your local newsagents and see how many celebrity faces (as opposed to faces of the posh) are on the covers of magazines. Without the existence of William and Harry, the posh might as well not exist.

No sane person would claim that we are a classless society or that class does not affect social mobility or opportunities, but the belief that we judge people by their class and not the character of their clothes or even their celebrity standing, is just wrong.

The party’s sooo over, darling

What a week for parties it’s been in London. There was the Cartier party (Joely Richardson, Rod Stewart), the Vogue cover party (Claudia Schiffer, Sophie Dahl) and the Fashion Rocks party (everybody in the universe and their uncle). When you look at pictures of these events, you might think that they are the most fabulous and exciting of social occasions. You might even feel a little envious of those fortunate few who get to go. Please don’t. The truth is that nobody ever has a good time at these parties. Not even the celebrities.

You don’t believe me? I’ve interviewed many actors who have been to the Oscars and the parties that follow. They’ve all said the same: it was boring beyond belief. Last week I went to the London Film Festival to rub shoulders with the greats and the groovy of screen such as Naomi Watts, Colin Firth and Elle Macpherson.

If you want to know exactly what it was like, here’s what you should do. First, get dressed in your best outfit. Then pour yourself a glass of mediocre wine. Head off to a London Tube station at the height of the rush hour, push your way into a carriage and stand there, drink in hand, and try to make conversation with the person next to you. In fact, that would be more fun.

Liz’s gift fails to cushion her from miser jibes

Poor Elizabeth Hurley, caught up in what I can only call the cushions-for-cash scandal. Eight months ago Hurley married her wealthy husband Arun Nayar at Sudeley Castle, Gloucestershire, followed by a blessing in its private chapel. The vicar of the area’s cash-strapped parish, the Rev John Partington, was expecting a donation of £1,000 for his services.

So you can imagine his surprise when instead of a fat cheque from Liz - who is said to have pocketed £1.5m from Hello! magazine for wedding photo rights - he was promised a dozen new hassocks, or kneeling cushions, for worshippers at the chapel.

Now Liz is being portrayed as a “penny-pincher”, rather common and behaving in bad taste. I think it’s the first time the middle-class Hurley has truly acted like the posh person she always longed to be. Putting comfort over cash is a sign of class - especially when the kneelers are going into a chapel that only a privileged few get to use.

Yes, the Lord works in a mysterious way and so does Liz.


We may be living in the year 2007 but sometimes I wonder: are we are still living in the 1960s?

In two weeks I have been confronted with newspaper photographs of JK Rowling’s spilling cleavage (revealed on her recent reading tour of America), Nigella Lawson’s breasts (beginning to pop out on a night on the town), Tracey Emin’s breasts (always popping out at a gallery near you) and Sir Terry Wogan’s manhood. Yes, there it was during a broadcast of BBC1’s Points of View last Sunday, his moleskin trousers clinging in a way to scare the horses and plenty of housewives.

Back in the 1960s who then was confronted with Jimmy Young’s manhood or Patience Strong’s cleavage? The Age of Aquarius returns.

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