Television
Whiffs of the past
Simon Hoggart
History will prove me right,' said Anthony Eden on being told that Nasser had died. No it won't. History can't prove anything. It's in a permanent dither. Histo- ry hasn't yet figured out Richard III. If His- tory were able to leap out of the lab shouting 'Eureka! We've just proved Anthony Eden was right about Suez!' there wouldn't be any need for programmes like Reputations (BBC 2). History involves end- lessly chewing and re-chewing the same material. As with the whole of this series, the fascination lies not so much in the events and their interpretation (Eden was probably wrong about Suez, probably wrong about the Common Market, and only right about Hitler after a fit of pique) but in the social details of the time. I liked his American mistress, who pointed out that in her day all the upper class were shagging each other with an enthusiasm winch made Steve Norris look like a dilet- tante (or Inobbing nobs' as the Sun would possibly have put it, had it had been pub- lished at the time). At least, unlike an earlier Reputations subject, Liberate, Sir Anthony didn't have his lover's face cosmetically altered to resemble his own. This would have offend- ed the strict etiquette of the day, which was fascinatingly illustrated by Bill Deedes: 'He occasionally preferred the double-breasted waistcoat — something which I have always had a slight doubt about, and my tailor has always had a slight doubt about ... he was always pretty correct about the neck, though.' The late Alan Clark thought that he smelled delicious, whatever Trumper's had just made up . . . ' Like Jermyn Street unguents, these programmes bring a pow- erful whiff of the past which will be worth preserving while historians continue their unfathomable debates.
The Talk Show Story (BBC 1) was fasci- nating too. At first in the 1950s the hosts were humble broadcasting mid-range Celebrities, middle-aged chaps in glasses whose job was to make the stars look even more glamorous by comparison. Then Johnny Carson, David Letterman — they became richer and more famous than the people they were interviewing. Next the show began to disappear up its own funda- ment as the guests became mere straight men for the comical host — Mrs Merton, Alan Partridge, Ali G. Already we've had straight hosts interviewing non-existent guests, as when Michael Parkinson has Dame Edna Everage on to do his turn. On So Graham Norton (Channel 4) the guest is a mere afterthought, a bit of useful ballast. Finally I suspect we'll have a reversion to the original, with middle-aged men in glass- es saying, 'So, please tell us about your exciting new film, which is in cinemas all over the country from 9 June . . . '
It was curious how much the audience took the guests' side. They applauded Grace Jones attacking Russell Harty, and Emu savaging Michael Parkinson. Elton John told Wogan, 'It's nice being on TV with anyone who's fatter than me,' and they cheered. They loved Cher telling David Letterman that he was 'an asshole'. Why do we instinctively dislike chat-show hosts, even the most popular? It may be because we think it's too easy and too well-paid. But I've done it once or twice, and it's tough. (I had Kiri Te Kanawa on in 1980. The researcher told me, 'She has a fabu- lous story about her first night at the Met.' So I asked her about it. 'Yes, it certainly was fascinating,' she said, and nothing more. Being useless at the job, I sat with my mouth flapping like a nervous goldfish.) I used to wonder why the BBC ever employed Ruby Wax, and I'm still not sure. However, Ruby's American Pie (BBC 1) was a marginal improvement on the recent past, being about women wrestlers getting `in touch with their inner hoochiness'. When we lived in the States we used to rent huge camper vans, drive to see fabu- lous scenery, then ruin it by parking in front. In the same way Ruby Wax gets fas- cinating topics, then stands right in front of them. It seems inconceivable, but at some point the producer must have said, 'That's great, Ruby, but we need more of you in shot.' I'd love to see Dame Edna interview her; what a battle of titanic egos that would be.
Baddiel and Skinner Unplanned (ITV) is billed as 'Two Blokes, One Sofa, and No Script'. The credits show dozens of jolly folk singing a song of which the only line is: `It'll never work', which is a risky start to an impromptu comedy show. The part I watched didn't work at all, though to be fair I didn't give it a chance. After they moved on to coke-head Danniella West- brook's missing septum and pondered whether it would be possible to have sex with her nose, I'm afraid I chickened out and switched off.
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