'SUNDAY BREAK'
SIR,—What an admirable programme The Sunday Break seems to be whenever I am not watching! Frankly, I am a little surprised that after the last exchange Mr. Penry Jones has the nerve to come back again, but then I suppose if you put on The Sunday Break you have nerve enough for anything.
A pity, though, that losing on points, he flails rather wildly with his facts. As any- body bothering to trudge back to the beginning can see, my original side-swipe at The Sunday Break in a piece devoted mainly to Oh Boy! was not meant to refer specifically to the Whitsuntide number, which I have never pretended to see. But I have seen numerous Sunday Breaks apart from the two following his former letter, which I described specifically in order to illustrate my point—indeed, I wrote about the programme some time ago in the Spectator. Not to understand that it is possible to dislike and distrust a programme which may none the less be, in a sense, the most important on television, makes argument with Mr. Jones a little difficult. However, the delightful thing (clear enough, I think, to those who have been patient enough to follow this correspondence) is
that, in his last effusion, Mr. Jones quite splendidly makes all my points for me.
My original comment started from the proposition that The Sunday Break catered for the same audience in frequently the same jive idiom as Oh Boy! This Mr. Jones's letter helpfully confirms. Then I note that my viewpoint is based 'on the extraordinary ground that if teenagers wanted religion they could get it in church.' Comment unnecessary, I think. Again, is it not possible to point to the danger of losing the full impact of dogma by express- ing it in super-simple ways, without accusing the Bishop of Leeds or Dr. Soper of watering down their views? 'A pro- gramme that includes music and dancing' is a charming euphemism for forty-five minutes dominated by bop and jive. As for all these sneers about Top People and 'critics' culture', Mr. Jones seems to have a chip on his shoulder about education which it would be irrelevant, though tempting, to interpret.
Then, he writes: 'Discussion, even if sincere and muddled, is better than propa- ganda.' So much for evangelisml And I know that none can be so speciously woolly as the blindly sincere, but how can Mr. Jones really think that a few minutes of utterly inconclusive argument among a group of rehearsed self-conscious, camera- loving kids, with a brief summing-up from a clergyman, amount to 'the applica- tion of Christian belief'? I for one would be very sorry to think 'some young people will identify themselves with the average youngsters on The Sunday Break.
Finally, Mr. Penry Jones says, 'in a religious club programme, I find a song about chewing gum on the bedstead more tasteful than religious "pop".' But are these really the only two alternatives? Mr. Jones could not have borne me out more clearly. With the whole fabulous heritage of Christianity to draw upon, he thinks in terms of chewing gum on the bedstead and religious 'pop'.—Yours faithfully,
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