Raising Reith

Watching television as a critic is an artificial way of watching television. For the most part we see DVDs supplied by the television companies. We start and finish when we like. If the phone rings, we don’t groan and bark ‘yes?’ — we can press pause and settle down for a leisurely chat about our double-glazing needs. If we miss part of a programme, we can catch it again. We are a little like those restaurant reviewers who write: ‘Dinner for two, with a glass of champagne and a bottle of Volnay, came to a very reasonable £165,’ because they aren’t paying. We are privileged.

In the same way we rarely stumble across a programme merely because we’ve casually flicked on the box, live, on air. That is how I accidentally caught The Weakest Link Special on BBC1 (Saturday). It was the kind of shock from which the pampered critic is usually protected. I felt like a food writer who’s been to Le Gavroche and been served with spam and a fried slice.

It was one of those shows that makes you think, ‘Lord Reith would be turning in his grave!’ (Have you noticed how the gyrating director-general is always Lord Reith? No one ever says, ‘John Birt would be turning in his grave, if he were dead,’ or refers to earlier, forgotten DGs: ‘Sir Cecil Graves would be turning in his grave!’) The participants were ‘glamour’ models, which meant that in normal circumstances most would be bare-breasted. This time they were swathed like Egyptian mummies. The questions were not difficult. ‘The round object in a car used for changing direction is a “steering” — what?’ was one they got. Others were more problematic. ‘A single leaf of grass is called a what?’ had them stumped. ‘Which “E” is the highest mountain in the Himalayas?’ brought the answer ‘oxygen’.