So the big question this week is: is the Today programme a viper’s nest of evil pinkoes, all of whom should be put in sacks and dropped into a deep well?
And the answer is: yes.
Shame, though, really, because wrong and bad though it is I do have a soft spot for Today. I like the poshness of the cars they send to pick you up when you’re on it and the producers’ apparently genuine gratitude that you’ve agreed to appear at such a hideously early time. I like the teeny-weeny half-nod of acknowledgement which is all you get from the presenters when you creep to your mic in the studio because they’re busy concentrating and guests are two-a-penny. I like the fact that everyone you know hears you when you’re on it and takes you seriously for at least ten minutes afterwards. I even like Jim Naughtie, for God’s sake.
Why, then, must they all die? Well, it’s so obvious, I should have thought, that it’s barely worth explaining.
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