Two words with lots of the same letters in them. But if that were all that mattered I could have called this pooper scooper. And I nearly did. Anyway I’m talking about the kind of people who see TECHNOLOGY as a sign and symptom that all is not right with the world, who look at tape players and Commodore 64s through a permanent Valencia filter and believe that the WORST thing to happen to humanity is MODERNITY.
Look, I’m a nature lover. I’ve lived on a farm, and get so anxious when I’m trapped indoors for long periods that I’m liable to throw things. Sharp things. But it doesn’t bother me ON AN INTRINSIC LEVEL to see other people cooing into their cracked smart screen disciplining rows of sweets or firing aggravated birds like chemical warfare. Sorry about the casual allusion to chemical warfare. What really bothers me is the EASE with which so-and-so-know-it-alls castrate these poor lambs with pointed patronism as if this intense connection with the screen was DISCONNECTION to everything else.
You see, in a funny way, all our clicks and swipes and checking and double-checking is in fact our modern-day homing mechanism. Globalisation, immigration, cultural disassociation (and other ‘ations) mean ‘home’ is no longer a place (was it ever?) but a connection – and it is that connection we seek through our plastic portals into the social methersphere.
And the disconnection thus arises not out of a lustful obsession with technology (like men who fuck bicycles) but from way before when cavemen (probably) reprimanded cavewomen for spending too long perfecting that last hieroglyph and missing out on the beautiful sunset. We’re human. We like to be enthralled by things, to lose ourselves in something, anything, and this is no less real than “being present” in any other moment. Unless you happen to be enthralled by your iPrick whilst walking in a malformed zigzag with the pace and grace of a dying sealion and thus WALKING INTO ME which is fucking irritating, you prick, get off your phone and look where you’re going. Prick.
Anyway. Aggressive nostalgia (I am hoping this term will catch on) is lazy and boring and I look back fondly at the time when we didn’t have so many ready-made heuristics to substitute proper thinking. Those were the days.
We like to think of ‘news’ as being something isolated, objective. It happens and we report on it. It exists over there, somewhere. We are mere observers.
Well, not quite. These days, we make our own news. A rumour starts – on Twitter, let’s say. A reader, curious, searches official news sites. Nothing. Questions it, out loud. The rumour circulates. Develops. Mutates. Suddenly the rumour itself is news.
It’s the old ‘tree falling in a forest’ argument. Does it make a sound if no-one is there to hear it?
The answer is: it doesn’t matter. Whether or not the tree makes a sound – or falls in the first place – is secondary to what kind of story we can create from a simple question. From uncertainty. From fear.
Straight to it with no foreplay, Krishnan Guru Murphy kicks off BAFTA TV Question Time with dour debate on whether we can still trust the BBC post-Savile scandal. 4 to 1 say we can. Auntie is too important an institution to let fall to the gutter because of one incident that was (while inexcusable) a symptom of the times.
Content is next. Why don’t British broadcasters make great drama, like the US? Stuart Murphy alludes to a ‘minimum level’ of programming to secure a subscription – who cares if people actually watch it? (Only 10% of Sky’s revenues come from advertising.) And as to whether the nation’s ADD (multi-screen, multi-channel) is affecting the prevalence of quality, long-form narrative, Peter Kosminsky argues that a strong story will always hold your attention, and the temptation to incorporate transmedia storytelling will only prove effective if the story is, well, effective. Naturally. Concludes with a defence of new commissions like Girls and C4′s Utopia as proof that broadcasters are risk-takers and just as good as the US. Ok then.
On to diversity. Why do all gameshow panels, continuity announcers and comedians have the same tone of voice? Because they all come from the same place, argues Grace Dent (mostly white, confident, middle class backgrounds). What are broadcasters doing to break free of this? Not enough, agrees the panel. Stuart Murphy shifts a little in his seat as he jokes that white, confident, middle class men aren’t all bad – after all, he is one. Titter.
As to the future of TV? Great content that challenges those in power and speaks to all audiences, not just those who produce it. Less lazy thinking. More risk-taking. Sounds good to me.
Looks at me
no time for who, if, why
I cut past him
slice and shatter
I am the world
And I’m watching you, London
What is there to see I haven’t already seen
Don’t tell me, you’re gonna wheel out the Queen?
Sex Pistols, dancing nurses, Roger Waters?
This was a story for your sons and daughters
Lit by a burning empire and the rest of us
A house made of movies and a dance of true love
007 falling from above
Grime and punk and a world wide web of confusion
5 gold rings ring out industrial revolution
(Liberal shit, an angry Tory tweets his resignation)
NHS, CND, what does it mean to me?
Mary effing Poppinses
The world is your stage London and you’ve certainly set it
But I’m not British and I’m not sure I get it.
Now this is interesting.
After last week’s disastrous O2 network issue, hoards of angry customers reacted negatively against the brand.
Compare this to giffgaff: a smaller, community-owned and operated network (currently asking for consumer’s suggestions on their The Big Bang Theory sponsor ads).
giffgaff piggyback on the O2 network, so they were equally affected by the issue, and yesterday announced that all customers would be compensated with an extra 10% on top-up credits.
Not only are hoards of calm and reasonable-sounding giffgaff users not complaining, they are going after those customers who do complain: “Members do not deserve anything more than what we get, so I will not be topping up … as I feel I get a good enough deal already” (You can read some of the comments here.)
In some ways the two companies are the same. Both are owned by the same network and both suffered a significant blip in service.
But the relationship they have with their customers couldn’t be more different.
In front of me, Spencer Matthews (sexy rogue-type whose daddy owns superstar hangout the Eden Rock Hotel in St Barths) is dressed in nothing but a skin-tight jumpsuit, performing a range of contortions that wouldn’t look out of place in a 70s porn film but are somewhat at odds with the demure surroundings of the Valmont Club, where we are filming. My stage directions are to converse with my drinking partner, then (at a given cue) frown in subtle disapproval, and walk off screen (quietly – in one take, my 6-inch Ted Baker heels forced a re-shoot).
This is ‘constructed reality series’ Made in Chelsea’s end of season show, where ‘some scenes are filmed for your entertainment’ – and they’re not exaggerating. Lines were fed to the cast (some members, although it would be indiscreet to say whom, struggled to remember simple sentences) and the scene was conducted by a bad-tempered, badly-fitting-jeans-wearing director (like any advertising shoot, basically).
My favourite moment was a conversation with one of the cast (again, to remain nameless) about the force-to-area ratio of 5mm diameter high heels – it was my attempt at a chat-up line but the result was a blank expression and a flicker of panic behind the eyes. The moral of this story? Don’t let strategists near celebrities.
Catch the end of season show on E4 tonight at 10pm or on 4oD.