It is always a shame when a talented performer is taken away in the prime of their life. Last night the highest rating television star of recent years was killed. His debut show on Friday night attracted an audience of millions. Now, alas, the star of the show is dead and we will never know how good Raoul Moat’s series was going to be.
Satire!
Friday’s rolling news on the BBC news channel displayed the fundamental flaw with 24-hour rolling news. Namely, that there is not enough news for it to ‘roll’.
I was in a spot of bother with some people from up north on twitter, for putting out some thoughts on the Moat case. Someone, presumably from the area said: ‘What do you think it’s like for people in the northeast?’ . I replied (jokingly) that I felt very sorry for the people of the northeast, as it is a shit hole.
Anyway, twitter was once again the only place to keep up with the news. Obviously watching the news was another. The night panned out like election night in that you plan to stay up all night with it, but you give up and go to bed and nothing much has happened when you wake up.
BBC News 24 was a tragicomedy story of sensationalism over content from start to finish, and an abject lesson in the cult of celebrity. Flicking between BBC and ITV did not leave a great deal of difference. The whole night could have been dealt with during normal bulletins delivered every hour or so, like they used to do. At no point during the night did this warrant the media circus that prevailed on a sleepy village.
Another problem facing the media is the fact that they were all about ten miles away, as the police has cordoned off the immediate area. So all the news reporters did was realise that they knew shit all about what was going on, and made up something instead. The television cameras did not notice the arrival of Paul Gascoigne to save the day, so when it appeared on twitter I assumed it was an elaborate joke that someone had managed to spread. Especially when Emma Kennedy announced that Jimmy Nail had arrived with cheesecake.
To be honest, we all knew the ending to this soap opera. This was not going to end on a drum-beating cliff-hanger to be picked up on Monday, this was happening and we had spoilers. He was going to end up dead, by police, suicide or getting into a car with Paul Gascoigne.
Given that the police and the media were getting in each other’s way, things got a little messy. I saw a reporter bullying members of the public into calling relatives and putting them on loudspeaker for the benefit of us unfortunate enough not to have ringside seats. A filler report that Raoul Moat had stolen (maybe) a cucumber from an allotment was enough to wring valuable minutes out of what was becoming a disappointing story.
The unfolding nothingness that spewed out from our television sets could have been offset with a bit of entertainment. Could the BBC not have had Ant and Dec up there in time to do a phone vote on who wins? Or Harry Hill to announce that the only way to decide the outcome was to FIIIIGHT!
The sad truth is, that if there had not have been the exclusion zone then things could have worked out very differently. Celebrity and our obsession with it have created a world where we want to watch a mad man possibly kill on live television. If he could ice-skate, he would have had a Dancing on Ice gig this year.
Now he is dead, he has achieved bizarrely, saintly eulogies about what a decent man he was. A decent man who shot his ex-girlfriend. When you are dead, all misdemeanours are forgotten. Just ask Michael Jackson!
