Television
Spruced up
Richard Ingrams
It amazes me to say so but Tonight has improved out of all recognition. It is still on at the same God-forsaken hour of the night, With the result that I for one am not among the regular viewers. But on several occasions when I have tuned in during the last month or so I have been surprised by the air Of brisk efficiency which prevails in place of the ramshackle shambles of yore. There is a new editor called Michael Townson, Denis Tuohy presides with authority and seems a competent no-nonsense kind of interviewer. Even old Ludicrous Kennedy looks Spruced up and alert instead of resembling, as he has done on occasions not so long ago, an ageing member of the Drones Club reluctantly roused from his post-prandial Slumbers in order to appear on the box.
His interview on Monday, which followed a vivid glimpse of the indignation Prevailing among the firemen of Merseyside about pay, was with Dennis Potter Who also looked a new man thanks, apparently, to a new drug that controls the painful illnesses which have plagued him for so long. Potter quite rightly referred to 'the downward drift of television', the lack of courage and openness and the marketing of Programmes as though they were products like toothpaste. It just seemed bad luck on Tonight that it should feature this attack when, as I say, the programme has not succumbed to the downward drift. No doubt the BBC will now prove Potter right by taking it off the air completely. Owing to a power cut I missed the last episode of Reginald Perrin in which the reluctant tycoon apparently took another trip down to Chesil Beach, this time accompanied by his wife and most of the staff of Grot, his multi-million pound rubbish marketing business. However, I was delighted two nights later to see another bizarre performance featuring a somewhat eccentric millionaire in the shape of my old friend Sir James Goldsmith, appearing on the second of two Money Programmes. The previous week John Roberts had produced an interesting and apparently balanced history of the astonishing growth of Cavenham Foods, as rapid and dramatic as that of Grot. The idea of the second instalment was that Sir James should be interviewed by two financial journalists, James Bellini and Hugh Stephenson. Instead of which the excitable tYcoon launched into a vociferous tirade against the lies and libels of Roberts's film Of the previous week. Struggling in vain to Jump out of his executive's Relaxi-chair the entrepreneur ranted on about the pioneering invention of the Oxo cube and the malignant conspiracy which was destroying Britain from within — 'Many of us feel uneasy. We are fed false statistics about immigration. Our traditions are eroded,' etc etc. It was by far the best thing he has done since his dramatic appearance in the witness box at Bow Street last year. After a bit Stephenson and Bellini gave up trying to interrupt him and sat back to enjoy the show.
Many of the people I have spoken to since were of the opinion that Goldsmith had won hands down. The Money Programme, it is true, made an elementary blunder by not having John Roberts present to answer any attack on his programme. But Goldsmith's uncouth response gave the game completely away. Beneath the bluster and indignation one could without too much difficulty discern an exceedingly desperate man, determined to do anything rather than answer the kind of questions which he feared might be forthcoming. Perhaps he too will join Reggie and C.J. on Chesil Beach.
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