It's not really Fearne's fault. I happened to be watching the TV when she appeared during coverage of the Jubilee celebrations, and interviewed the second world war veteran. I say 'interviewed' in the sense that she asked him very briefly about something to which she already knew the answer (although she got his name wrong to start with!), and thus relayed to us details, getting an occasional nod from her subject.
"I believe this that and the other happened?" [Question mark optional, as irrelevant in real life]
"Yes, that's right."
"And then, you went hither, thither and back again!"
"I certainly did."
"That must have been very rewarding/exciting/surprising/dangerous/nerve wracking."
"Oh, it was."
I think you get the picture. As I said at the beginning, it's not Fearne's fault. Fearne is what she is, and she does what she does. There is a single side to her that affords a single approach, and the one size does not fit all. Why then did the BBC think it was appropriate to take her off 'backstage' duty, and away from dumbed-down chit chat with illiterate singers and fans? Someone must have decided to offer her a gig with some oldies, which just about sums up the approach she took in completing the task. The disrespectful style was, I suggest, not disrespect from Fearne herself, as I doubt she realised anything at all, but something the nation was forced to witness because of the mismatch. It's unfair to pick on Fearne for being given a job. Tess Daly was just as bad - actually, worse. John Sergeant was out of place, bumbling about on a bridge. In fact, the BBC seemed to have decided in the planning stage to get just about every camera-facing employee to 'do something' whether the styles of the individuals concerned were appropriate or not, and regardless of their capabilities.
I have just finished watching the BBC's coverage of the Germany v Holland match at the European Championships. It seems that it was not enough to have to endure input at some considerable length from Alan Hansen, Alan Shearer and Clarence Seedorf in terms of analysis after the game. They were of course prompted to fuck by Gary Lineker, who prodded the three of them way past their ability to contribute anything more at all without repetition, deviation or hesitation. He was like a cat pawing a dead or near-dead sparrow on your doorstep, in his efforts to try and eek out [eek (?) so perhaps a mouse then, rather than a sparrow] a conversation on a topic that was in fact a dead duck [wow, these metaphors are getting brilliantly mixed now!]. No, all this was not enough; despite the four overpaid presenters talking to death the performances of the teams in the 'group of death', and my being bored to death, we had to have extra comment and input 'from the touchline' with Jake Humphrey chatting with Martin Keown. There was of course no cunting point in their involvement, because the sparrow / mouse / duck was already a dead donkey, and there was nothing left to say. The setting was wonderfully appropriate, then, because there were no fans in the stadium, and they may just as well have been on a bit of grassy wasteland in Poland.
As an aside, I can forcefully recommend a brilliant site should you wish to further explore grass, wastelands, pastures, soils and topography in Poland. I would urge you to visit the wonderfully informative site, at: www.fao.org/ag/AGP/AGPC/doc/Counprof/Poland/Poland.htm
Back to the plot, and the complete lack of plot; the two of them stood chatting to each other, holding oversized microphones, and occasionally eyeing the camera because they knew we were listening in. After a pointless interchange, Jake turned to the camera and did NOT say:
"What the fuck am I doing here? I watch fast cars at weekends, and have no business talking to Martin whilst standing on the touchline of a deserted football pitch. The four of you in the studio have already killed the fucking subject, and you expect Martin to chat with me about a fucking dodo without repetition, deviation or hesitation?! Nicholas Parsons would be awarding points for correct challenges every 1.5 seconds, the exact equivalent of my attention span when Martin Keown is bloody speaking! Arghhhh! Couldn't you have got Fearne Cotton or Tess Daly to stand here and talk shite? I usually take shite only from David Coulthard and the little chap with the open shirts whose name escapes me . . . ah yes, that's it, Eddie Jordan. If I have to do this for two more weeks of the Euro and associate with dead ducks, mice, donkeys, sparrows and dodos, I might as well sign up for the fucking awful Springwatch shite. Holy cow!
It's a shame he didn't say all that because the entertainment factor would have been rather better than the reality. Roll on tomorrow's coverage of the football, and the amazing army of pundits and critics who tell us the cunting obvious.
Elsewhere, there are deluded people maintaining that the BBC is getting things right! The Director General is among those who are seriously struggling with reality. Mark Thompson maintains that the BBC's coverage of recent events was a success, and is living in cloud cuckoo land [oops, there's another bird reference] if he thinks we'll fall for that verdict. He's leaving his job after the Olympics, so clearly won't be admitting he's fucked anything up. I'm sure the coverage of the Olympics will show the BBC to be useless - unless it drafts in the army of 'faces' to give inane input, and then the BBC will not be 'useless' but fucking 'dire and shit'. Until then, I'll leave the BBC to feel pleased with itself over the failure of The Voice, which apparently was a resounding success (Yes, this really is the unbelievable claim being made by the Beeb!). The BBC1 Controller (Danny Cohen) has said:
"The Voice has broken all records for a new entertainment show on the BBC."
Now, if he'd stopped there, I'd have whole heartedly agreed with him. It did indeed break many records, for being shit, awful, smug, wankerish and pathetic, to levels not seen before, to give an overall outcome of 'ghastly'. But he didn't stop there - he carried on.
"I'm really proud of the coaches, artists and producers who have achieved this."
Well, in theory I can just about agree, in the context that these people most certainly did contribute to the shittiest show imaginable. Obviously the 'acts' or 'contestants' were misnamed as 'artists' all the way through the competition, to the annoyance of anyone with a pulse, but that aside, I am sure a great job was job by producers and the coaches, who together produced shit. Sadly the judges/coaches are not losing out on exposure, because we saw Jessie J at the Jubilee gig wailing her stuff, Tom Jones at the gig shouting his stuff, and sadly also Will.i.am who should be stuffed! As for Danny, he's bagged himself a new girlfriend, by all accounts, called Bo. Meanwhile, Leanne, who won the competition, sold a handful of records and never made the charts! Success? This show failed dismally. Never mind, it only cost the BBC (so us) £22million.
[ * CIC = Cunts In Charge ]
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