Television Monitors

Meet the BBC’s new boss. Same as the old boss.

Who is the bravest man in Britain?

There’s a long list of contenders.

Maybe it’s some tough as nails SAS warrior, currently on a clandestine mission in Ukraine, or the Gulf.

Or closer to home, anyone daring enough to wear a Rolex in Mayfair, or take a phone call on Oxford Street. Nick Timothy. Or perhaps an ambulance driver in Golders Green.

Or anyone with the balls to say that the appropriate place for a bear as twee and annoying as Paddington, isn’t enjoying afternoon tea with the late Queen.

It’s being chained up, and dancing for pennies, in a Russian circus.

These are all worthy suggestions. But nope.

The bravest man in Britain today is Matt Brittin.

Who has just been appointed as the new Director General of the beleaguered BBC.

The broadcaster is being sued for $10bn by Donald Trump.

And since the president is busy turning ‘madman theory,’ into madman fact, by gaily despatching the heads of foreign organisations he doesn’t like, with unannounced drone strikes, Matt Brittin is clearly taking his life in his hands.

In case you had forgotten, and it might have easily slipped your mind, what with all that has been going on lately, the BBC felt compelled to defenestrate both its last Director General, Tim Davie, and its Head of (Fake) News, Deborah Turness, after an internal report ‘revealed’ that the state broadcaster has spent the last few years peddling all manner of misinformation to its ever dwindling audience.

I put ‘revealed’ in quotes because while the disclosure of widespread and systemic bias might have come as a shock to the performatively incredulous Guardian classes.

It was already pretty obvious to the rest of us.

The charge sheet was damning.

Promoting climate fantasy as scientific fact.

Using Hamas personnel, and even top terror bosses’ children, as TV presenters.

Pushing bonkers trans ideology on impressionable, vulnerable kids.

And of course re editing Donald Trump’s speeches to make him spout the opposite on BBC telly, to what he was actually saying, in real life.

(Don’t matter of course. The defence went. It’s the ‘sort of thing’ he’d say anyway. So it was actually fine.)

Chastened, and repentant, the BBC has spent the last few months listening to its critics, and come to the inescapable conclusion that what it needs to refloat this sinking ship, rebuild the trust of viewers, and finally deliver mainstream programming which appeals to everyone, not just progressives, activists, and angry minorities, is an ideological reset, and change of direction yet another left wing chief, with a PHD in wokery.

Meet the new boss.

Same as the old boss.

A quick look at his CV reveals Matt Brittin has an incredibly broad range of media experience.

Stretching from the nation’s most left wing tabloid, The Daily Mirror, all the way to becoming top boss of the most far-left broadsheet in the country, the Guardian.

A newspaper which has never seen a ‘current thing’ it didn’t endorse, a museum it didn’t want to ‘decolonise’, a monument to a dead white guy it didn’t want to topple, and a gay child it didn’t want to castrate.

But Brittin’s biggest claim to fame is that he was, until recently, the head of Google in the UK.

Another notoriously progressive media organisation, which does its best, at least when I’m researching these articles, to filter out even the most milquetoast of right wing sources, in its search results.

And we’ve hardly got time to mention how he also headed up a charity pushing for civilisational collapse worldwide net zero by 2050.

So, yeah, as modern media moguls go, Matt Brittin is hardly Steve Bannon.

It’s when it comes to broadcasting that things get really interesting. Matt Brittin’s TV experience is literally nil. Zero. Zilch. Nada.

He’s genuinely less qualified to run BBC TV than Greg Wallace.

I’m not even sure he’s watched that much of it.

Last year Matt gave a speech to the Royal Television Society, and made a point of singling out for especial praise, his favourite ever show, Dr Who.

This is the IP which the BBC has managed to turn from one of its best loved, and more importantly, money spinning, legacy brands, into an idiotic woke fest of such execrable quality, that even Disney refused to fund any more of it.

An unwatchable rainbow spewing carbuncle of degeneracy, self indulgence, proselytising, and historical ignorance. So devoid of wit, reason, and intelligence, that had it limped on for another series, the Time Lords would have been obliged to rename the Tardis, the Retardis.

Look, I don’t want to go after Matt Brittin personally.

I don’t know the guy. And I bet he’s as pleasant and thoughtful a representative of the progressive cultural elite as you’re ever likely to meet.

But that’s the problem. These people are all of a type. A breed. A set. A club. A cabal.

Convinced of their own moral, intellectual, and cultural superiority, they are congenitally incapable of reading a room. Responding to criticism. Or accepting another point of view.

With its average viewer now aged over sixty, finding a young person who tunes in, unbidden, to the BBC, is as likely as finding Mandelson- mate, Morgan McSweeney’s ‘stolen’ iPhone.

Or a 20 year old lesbian with tattoo-free knees.

But it’s not like people aren’t watching stuff.

You just have to sit in a cafe, catch a bus, or try talking to a teenager, to know that most people are watching screens, most of the time.

But increasingly, what is on those screens, isn’t the BBC.

Except maybe the occasional Tik-Tok edit of the Traitors Final.

Or a news report about how Broadcasting House has been forcibly evacuated. So that it can yet again, be swept for paedophiles.

But why are viewers deserting in such droves?

It’s a mystery. Which is apt.

Because there might be a clue in the recent BBC adaptation of Agatha Christie’s Murder is Easy.

Which reimagined the 1930s whodunnit as an opportunity to once again lecture us all on the evils of something the BBC considers far worse even, than cold bloodied murder.

Colonialism.

This constant Lammyfication of our history has resulted in literally every story set any time prior, to the day before yesterday, being reinterpreted as a riff on the evils of Empire, white people, white men, and white Britain.

It is grating, tedious, clueless, graceless, and wrong.

Last year the BBC watched in wonder as universal praise was heaped upon Netflix by the ruling class, the progressive elites, and even our tone deaf, thick as mince, Prime Minister, after it produced a fanciful drama (or if you’re Keir Starmer a ‘documentary’) blaming the epidemic of stabbing, misogyny, and violent crime which is sweeping our nation, firmly at the feet of working class white boys.

And quickly decided that this was one ‘far-right bandwagon’ it was happy to jump aboard.

The result is series three of The Capture.

Full disclosure. This is not a show I have ever watched, I’ve just seen the clips doing the rounds on the internet. But according to Wikipedia it involves a tough, no nonsense, and diligent female cop, called DCI Girlboss who uses toughness and no nonsensing to diligently smash gangs of dissenting misinformationists who threaten the diverse utopia of progressive modern Britain.

OK. So maybe I’m paraphrasing from the Wikipedia summary a teeny tiny bit. But that’s certainly the general gist.

From all accounts the first couple of series were pretty good.

But it’s in this current, third series, where it all goes a bit Adolsecence.

All hell breaks loose when a white working class British man (Boo!!! Hiss!!!) posts on 4 Chan (no idea. But I think it’s like a far-right Mumsnet) how he used a series of Freedom of Information requests to discover that the British government has been concealing from voters, the full scale of our illegal immigration crisis.

Ikr? Pretty far fetched stuff.

The top cops are incredulous that anyone, let alone some random white bloke, would have the temerity to use a perfectly legal journalistic tool to question the multitudinous equivocations of Britain’s Janus faced junta.

And so, with the rainbow hued harmony of multi cultural Britain in jeopardy, DCI Girlboss and her diverse team of lovely law ladies swing into action to hunt him down, like the dog he is.

It’s edge of your seat stuff.

Well at least, I was on the edge of my seat.

Because judging what I’d seen so far, I figured I’d probably need to get up off my sofa at any moment, to answer the door to a squad of angry lady coppers who’d taken issue with my last Substack post.

Everything about this show seems over the top and ridiculous.

It’s 2026, so of course the squad of tough as nails goodies is made up almost exclusively of ethnically diverse women of all shapes, colours, and sizes.

This flying squad is less The Sweeney after a couple of pints.

And more The Sydney Sweeney.

But only after you’ve had six pints.

(Whoops! A sexist joke. There goes my hopes of getting that job on Repair Shop)

The ladies are part of the best resourced squad in British law enforcement.

I know that Yvette Cooper, before being sacked from the Home Office for being rubbish, useless, and annoying, promised us an ‘elite unit’ of top cops who would soon be tasked with scanning our internet accounts, e mails, and personal messages, in the hope of finding fresh mums to imprison.

But we never expected they’d orchestrate it all from a base worthy of a 1980’s Bond villain.

These cops seem to have spent the country’s entire crime fighting budget on moody lighting, wide screen TVs, and the blanket satellite surveillance, of angry gammons.

No wonder there’s no money left to track down the real criminals; burglars, phone snatchers, shoplifters, and whoever dresses Hannah Spencer.

The Capture. Hi tech. Low IQ.

Worst of all, the drama also depicts it as a short ideological hop from putting in a Freedom of Information request about asylum seekers, to hanging out with a sniper rifle on a sand dune in Dover, with an adorable, if undocumented, kiddie migrant, in your sights.

Congratulations right-of-centre men, you’ve been promoted! From merely toxic, to baby killing monsters.

And that’s another thing. Where did he even get that sniper rifle?

Maybe it’s explained in the show. In which case, apologies.

But I expect that a sniper rifle is probably about the second hardest thing to obtain in Britain right now.

After an hospital appointment.

With the number of licence fee payers plunging by two million since 2018, the BBC’s problems are becoming existential.

It can do one of two things.

Start making TV shows which appeal to a broad cross section of the British public. Tone down the messaging. Stop villainising 50% of its potential audience. And diversify its politics.

Or it can lobby to get rid of the licence fee altogether, and replace it with a scheme to get paid out of general taxation. So it can force the British public to pay for its content, whether they watch it or not.

No prizes for guessing which one it has been going with.

(Culture Secretary Lucy Nando’s recently ruled this out. For now.)

There is of course, another way.

A funding method which seems to work perfectly well for Netflix, Amazon Prime, Paramount plus, Hulu, and even po-faced Guardian reader favourite, Apple TV.

Subscription.

If the BBC is really as great and good, as the great and the good keep telling us, then people won’t mind paying for it.

After all Netflix doesn’t have to threaten you with prison if you don’t fork out to watch K-Pop Demon Hunters. (Ok. I know I’m pushing sixty. But recommended)

But the fact that BBC bosses have been so viscerally repelled by the subscription model, perhaps indicates that they might be less confident in their product, and yes, it is a product, not a ‘public service’, than they make themselves out to be.

I’ve defended the BBC before. It has been, historically at least, a brilliant British institution. A cornerstone of our shared culture. The maker of some of the best television in the world ever. And the breeding ground for several generations of era defining talent. (No. Not you Naga Munchetty)

But judging from its more recent output, I can’t escape the conclusion that the BBC no longer believes its role is to inform, educate, and entertain. But rather it is to sit in condescending judgement over the low caste British public’s poor lifestyle choices, wonky politics, and blinkered sexual preferences.

It apparently views me, and people like me, as little more than far-right lunatics, jack booted fascists, and wannabe kiddie killers.

Or else we are credulous fools, mindless morons whose every wrong opinion, and hateful prejudice has been poured into our ever gullible skulls by Nazis, demagogues, and current bogeyman du jour, the ‘Manosphere’.

So good luck Matt Brittin, I’m rooting for you, I genuinely hope you can turn things around.

I love the BBC. At least I love what it was, and what it still has the potential to be.

But for now at least, I’ll be enjoying more honest entertainment. Watching silly people falling over, on YouTube.

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