Post 327. ANOTHER DIRE WARNING

FROM THE READILY AFFRONTED MILITIA. 

 Danny Baker (above) has been sacked (again) by the BBC.

God help him, he posted a bloody silly picture in respect of the new royal baby. 

PC National Command (see Post 307) instantly issued a condemnation order and all anti-racist hell broke loose. The popular programme presenter rapidly discovered his mistake. What a celebrity posts online in this day and age is strictly monitored by the Readily Affronted Militia and no apology, heartfelt or resentful, will ever satisfy them. 

So he was swiftly skuttled for this moment of madness and not even a successful, post bollock dropping, gig in Nottingham can disguise the ignominy of it. 

Let's be sensible, though. He's not a terrorist. He didn't kill anybody. He just incorrectly interpreted what today's public might regard as funny. 

Well, he's a quick-witted scrapper who reputedly has many friends throughout the media, so he'll survive. 

I think the Beeb was a bit hasty. Worry about listening figures I suppose. And it can't always be easy reining in the skittish selection of moderate talent allied to massive ego that fights for fame in Broadcasting House. 

ON THE COMMERCIAL FRONT 

Jeremy Kyle hit trouble, too. A former guest on his ITV show committed suicide. 

I saw very little of Kyle, and what I did see only confirmed my opinion that all reality television, including Love Island (which has similarly led to deaths), is crap. As far back as 1968 Nigel Kneale wrote a disturbing play, The Year of the Sex Olympics, where a pathetic populace was moronically fixated on 'live' television. I am reminded of it whenever I chance upon the 'reality' stuff now. 

It should be scrapped en masse. 

What? Oh I know you don't watch it. 

You wouldn't be reading this if you did. Which nicely leads on to...
TELEVISION. 
Game of Thrones

 If ever a final series was destined to go out in a blaze of glory, this Sky Atlantic epic is the one. We had the penultimate episode at the beginning of this week and now, like a perfect holiday, we just don't want it to end. Will Peter Dinklage (above) be left alive? Will anyone?

The acting has been splendid throughout and the special effects are good enough for a blockbuster film. When it finishes we shall be hard pressed to find a replacement. Unless, that is, George R.R. Martin has a sequel up his sleeve? Keep hoping. 

We bade a fond farewell to The Durrells, too. 

They were wonderfully eccentric pre-war Brits writ large for the American market. Loved 'em and loved Corfu. 

Happy viewing, texting, whatever...