What the Great British Bake Off really says about Britain

There was an interesting news item on the television the other day. A transgendered chap was hoping to become the world’s first dual-purpose father and mother to a baby. He had frozen his semen before the surgeons came along with their secateurs and staple gun. I turned to my wife and said: ‘One day the chill wind of Odin will blow down from the icy north and cleanse our nation of all purulence and disease.’ She said nothing by way of reply — but a moment or two later announced that she was going to bed, and would be sleeping in the spare room. She had a distressed expression upon her face.

I was left alone to mull over the possible cause of this sudden estrangement. Could it have been the Odin stuff? I suppose my statement did have a slightly right-of–centre ring to it and lacked a little empathy. But I meant the transgendered man/lady no harm and later, when I read a little more about him, I came to the conclusion that he seemed a fairly harmless creature who was not attempting to burden the taxpayer with his dream.

The problem is television, I think. Whenever I turn the set on, horrible thoughts of Odin charging down from the north invade my mind. It’s not just Fergal Keane and Huw Edwards, either; almost every kind of programme has the same sort of effect — costume dramas, sportscasts, light entertainment, reality shows. Especially, it has to be said, on the BBC.

Something called The Great British Bake Off has apparently been obsessing the country for the last few weeks — and particularly the final episode in which the winner was announced, a young Muslim woman called Nadiya Hussain. Some 14 million people tuned into the denouement, a fact which again summoned Odin borne on the baleful north wind, and into my head.