Television
Well-disposed
Richard Ingrains
For the first time for some months I find I feel reasonably disposed towards the television companies this week. It may mean that I am losing my grip, but more probably it is just a sign that the long season of summer repeats is at last drawing to a close and some new faces are beginning to be seen. A welcome returnee, to use Frostie's charming old formula, was BBC2's architectural expert Alec Clifton-Taylor, who launched a series on Tuesday called Six More English Towns. There is no better telly to watch than a travelogue done by someone who knows his onions, and, as A.J.P. Taylor showed in his recent programmes for Granada, there is no need to go far afield to find things of interest. Like his historian namesake Alec Clifton-Taylor is a man of strong views who is able to communicate enthusiasm. Taking us on a guided tour of Warwick, he made it interesting by being personal and saying what was good and what was bad about it — notably in the bad class, a hideous new office block erected by the county council, which blocks the view of the church.
Later, on BBC1, in a programme presented by Richie Benaud, an attempt was made to tell the best story of the summer, the comeback of Ian Botham and the winning of the Ashes. The best bits, of course, were the simple shots of the giant Botham lashing the Australian bowling like a batsman in a dream, when it seemed that almost every ball was hit for four or six. But it needed a better narrator than Benaud to do justice to this Boys' Own story and one was again reminded that with the departure of John Arlott there is no one at the BBC who can talk about cricket in a memorable way. Besides which this programme, perhaps because it did not wish to bring back unhappy memories to England's newfound hero, skated over the beginning of the season when Botham could do nothing right. Again, half the fun of the Old Trafford century was that it came after a morning in which the other England batsmen like Tavare had plodded along in a quite uninspired way. Unless you show some of this plodding the excitement when Botham broke through is not communicated. It was a pity too that we had to see so much of the idiotic figure of Peter West, who always reminds me of a terrible saloon bar bore buttonholing the players at the end of the day's play: 'Now, tell me, Ian, just how did it feel?' etc. It was, of course, an unforgettable Test series. But it was a pity that, throughout, the BBC was unable to rise to the occasion.
Wedgwood Benn continues to provide some of the best moments on the telly. He appeared this week along with his two rivals for the Labour deputy leadership on a special Panorama dogfight in which groups of supporters for each candidate were arranged in a crescent around the chairman, David Dimbleby. The strong antipathy that Wedgwood Benn generates was obvious from the way people couldn't help shouting at him, but Benn doesn't seem to mind this and just sits there grinning at everyone in such a way that they get madder still. Healey weighed in towards the end of the debate with some fairly heavyweight insults and Wedgie didn't bat an eyelid. You feel that nothing short of an assassin's bullet will stop him in his tracks. If he fails to win the deputy leadership he will stand, stand and stand again.
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