dom.blog

I interrupt this desert of blogging mostly to wax lyrical about Four Lions. Yes, Chris Morris made a film! Yes, the same Chris Morris who created the best television of the 1990s! And yes, you ought to go see it!

It was this kind of instant enthusiasm for a slapstick satire about suicide bombers which got Lucy and I to make plans to see it on Saturday, as it happens. (Bit of a weird day, incidentally, since my mum and three of her friends also found their way to mine for tea – forcing me to resort to using the novelty ‘sloping’ mug which is the perfect demonstration, should you ever require one, for why mugs generally don’t slope.) But since Four Lions didn’t suggest itself to be the world’s most romantic film ever, I also gathered a fine collection of people-who-don’t-revise-through-the-night to come along. And so it was that Oliver, Simon, Eamon, Patrick, Caroline, Flora, Matthew, Laura, Lucy and I (phew) ended up at the Cambridge Picturehouse on Saturday night, facing a rather perturbing snaking queue and worrying mutterings that it was totally sold out.

Being resourceful people, however, we began a trek to the Out Of Town Soulless Multiplex (TM) which – amusingly – is located right next to the ‘Cambridge Central’ Travelodge. But not wanting to face the embarrassing prospect of being turned away once again, I also commandeered Caroline’s iPhone in order to book us all tickets. And it was at this precise moment that I first came face-to-face (or voice-to-voice) with those awful automated phone booking systems – y’know, the ones which require you to walk down the street shouting out “FOUR LIONS” or “YES” or “STUDENT” at regular intervals. (And why waste my time offering me a ‘plot summary of the film you have just selected’? Does anyone actually use this?!)

Anyway, the point is that the whole experience reinforced my view that there is probably no crime in Cambridge at all, because I was walking down the road desperately trying to punch debit card details into an iPhone and still nothing happened – a rather pathetic indictment of the ability of local criminals to respond quickly to opportunities. (Although I suppose I’ll have to eat my words if I log onto internet banking later to find that I’ve bought a yacht or something.) But yes. We got there, and it really was a superb film, and I highly recommend it.

(Oh, and this week’s Doctor Who was similarly excellent. Though I hope it doesn’t persuade a generation of kids to throw themselves off hill-tops in the hopes of waking up in the TARDIS. At least save that for the night before your HAP exam, kids!)

Dear James Murdoch,

I’m really, really sorry. Really, I am. I’ve let you down so really terribly badly, and the least I can do is apologise right here and now.

As you so rightly noted, the BBC’s callous ‘dumping’ of content onto the people who paid for it makes it tremendously hard for hard-working media executives like yourself to get by. You toil away, day after day, and yet with little or nothing to show for it. But the truth is, James, it’s not just the BBC frustrating your ability to put a roof over your head. It’s also me.

That’s right. Over the course of my life I’ve been shovelled money by the government. Child benefit, free education, student loans… I’m a tax-funded monster, really, just as bad as the BBC. Under your intelligent and wise definition of the word – which I heartily suggest we adopt unquestiongly – I am an arm of the state.

And what do I turn around and do with this unfair funding advantage? Why, produce this very blog of course! I pour out content here – all for free – which sucks up my readers’ time and interest away from you. Why read The Sun when you can read The Musings of a Red Dalek, indeed?

The BBC – and me – are both total anachronisms. We belong to a bygone age, and we must adapt to a future of unlimited choice and competition by closing ourselves down immediately so as to provide less choice and competition. It might sound severe, but this really is the only way of ensuring that your business model – handed down from father to son in one of those timeless traditions which we must all surely protect and cherish – can remain exactly the same in this so-very-changed world.

The alternative is truly too ghastly to even consider, and I’m glad you came up with the ingenious idea of using George Orwell’s little-known novel 1984 as a warning against the dangers of having the power of the media concentrated in too few hands. Orwell himself, a fervent defender of the unregulated free market, would have well approved.

So battle on, brave James – ever the feisty underdog. I too share your confidence in the power of privatised plurality and I firmly believe you will attract a broad range of supporters in the media world. From The Sun, News of the World, The Times and The Sunday Times to The Wall Street Journal, Sky and Fox – the plucky independent media will stand with you in your hour of need.

And so will I. This will be my last blog thrusted onto the world without appropriate recompense, destroying your very lifeblood. Regular readers should look out for eye-watering annual subscription offers, starting soon.

With very best wishes and – again – my sincerest apologies,

Dominic Self
dominicself.co.uk