Television
Too dreary
Richard In grams
Having mocked the SDP to begin with, the media men, in the week of the Crosby by-election, have now become verY deferential indeed, as though aware that they might possibly be dealing with future Cabinet ministers. On Weekend World (LWT) Brian Walden seemed almost to be bowing and scraping and rubbing his hands like Uriah Heep as he sat opposite Roy Jenkins in the latter's booklined study at East Hendred, Berks — or Oxon as it maY now well be. As for the great Woy himself, he had plainly been puffing himself up ill the last day or two like the frog in Aesop's fable until he now shines with self-esteem and complacency. It may be that his television image is deceptive and that in real life Jenkins is a joky and companionable fellow well aware of his own failings, but on the telly he comes over as quite intolerable — smug, arrogant, well fed, and a crashing bore to boot. He said little to Walden of any interest but with a busily fluttering right hand hummed and ha'ed and hedged, leaving one with the impression that there was a whole range, or `wange', of issues which the SDP would be considering 'vey vey carefully' before deciding what their line was to be. Cautiousness is the watchword and for a party that is gaining hundreds of recruits by the hour, cautiousness is the right idea. Jenkins will obviously go far. But it would be a mistake to regard him as some kind of crusader and personally I don't think I could bring myself to vote for a party headed by such a complacent and boring person. I can understand why, for all his obvious abilities, he never got far in the Labour Party.
After the undignified sacking of Jocelyn Stevens from the Daily Express last week I thought 'Sir' John Junor had a fairly good cheek to go on television on Tuesday and tell us that Fleet Street is not a place of ferocious feuding but more like a little village where everyone is friends and neighbours. Looking disconcertingly like the late Mao Tse-Tung, 'Sir' John was being interviewed at his country home by Norman St John Stevas, who I am glad to see has heeded some of the strictures made at the beginning of his series, and manages to keep himself rather more in the background. I remember once many years ago trying to get 'Sir' John on to the television for an interview, but he declined on the grounds that a newspaperman's place is in the Street of Shame sitting at a desk with a green eyeshade, rather than posturing on the box. Now with the passing of the years his view has changed.
Not that he gave much away, either about himself or the Sunday Express. I was slightly startled by his claim that the Sunday Express is the most profitable newspaper in Europe — possibly even in the whole world; meanwhile we waited with some trepidation to see if Norman would get on to 'Sir' John's wellknown antagonism to homosexualists. When in due course it came, I seemed to detect a mischievous flicker in the old man's eye, as if he was well aware of some humorous implication in the proceedings. His reply however was unexceptionable: that he had the greatest sympathy for individual pooves, but objected to the proselytising that goes on. I hesitate to accuse such an eminent figure as 'Sir' John of hypocrisy, but I found it bard to believe he was being absolutely sincere when he said that he hoped the forthcoming Sunday Mail would be a great success.
Having missed the last three episodes I was slightly surprised to find that Brideshead was still grinding away on ITV. Apart from the fact that the arch-pain Lady Marchmain has turned her toes up — a welcome bit of news — nothing much appears to have happened in the interim. Ryder is even more drippy and pompous than before and for the early scenes in this week's episode sported a manky beard and smoked one of those yellow pipes, neither of which did anything to enhance his appearance. Jane Asher did very well as Mrs Ryder and there were some genuinely sickmaking scenes aboard the storm-tossed Queen Elizabeth, but otherwise the whole business, my dears, is just too, too dreary for words.
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