Standing Room

14 February 2009

It’s not just politically incorrect toys that need to be hidden in the attic; certain words also need to be junked.

It’s not just politically incorrect toys that need to be hidden in the attic; certain words also need to be junked. ‘Sorry’ has lost its mojo for me, it’s gone mainstream. It’s one of those words that began life as a covetable Chanel handbag only to end up as a worthless fake flogged on eBay. Saying sorry has become the must-have ‘get-out-of-jail-free’ card and is being used with all the insouciance of a patient suffering from the Coprolalia strain of Tourette’s. Everyone’s at it, especially the bankers, and therefore sadly there’s precious little redemption left in the act. It’s been devalued. Apologising is the buzzword of the naughty Noughties. Elton, you got it wrong: sorry no longer seems to be the hardest word.

Everyone is busy pimping their sorry slips with the ease of buying bogus pharmaceuticals from sites peddling Valium. The word has become a quick-fix balm with errant perpetrators meekly lining up to do time out squatting on the naughty step. The BBC should seriously consider saving both their time and our money by opening a Kindergarten School for Scandal. Last term saw Jonathan Ross suspended for behaviour that almost jeopardised his super-sized salary; Russell Brand retained his status as class clown by predictably taking the edgier option (delivering a rambling monologue of contrition before throwing all his toys out of the pram and jacking in the very radio show that got him into trouble in the first place); and John Barrowman was given a short, sharp smack after literally being caught with his trousers down.

This term has also started badly. Chris Moyles has been given a detention and made to write out 100 times: ‘Poles do not make good prostitutes and cleaners’; Jeremy Clarkson chalked up a conduct mark for offending the blind and Carol Thatcher was immediately expelled by Headmistress Hunt. I’m just waiting for the snitches to do their mea culpa acts and then we can all look forward to coming back after half-term and watching the whole process begin again, because I no longer believe in all these force-fed public apologies. They’re starting to sound very hollow. Being made to shout sorry from the redtops just in order to appease a nation of moralising nannies is surely missing the point? I’m old school and from where I stand a true apology should come from the heart. It has to be conducted in private, without being prompted, and accepted unconditionally in order for it to have one ounce of sincerity. I always used to warn my children that if they didn’t have anything nice to say then best not say it at all. And if they did go ahead and say it, then by Jove they’d better be fully prepared to take the consequences.

While not condoning the behaviour of those that have been placed on the BBC’s phoney at-risk register, we’re all guilty of overreacting to matters which don’t warrant policing by Big Brother. The latest tawdry examples illustrate just how far we’ve been pushed into an Orwellian landscape where alternative comedy has to be constantly monitored. It’s all bollocks.

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