Would it hurt English TV to celebrate St George's Day

Well, that’s a relief. I turned on Wednesday’s Good Morning Britain to hear Sir Keir Starmer give us permission to fly the English flag on St George’s Day. We should celebrate “our country, our values, our history” with pride, he said.

If ITV’s political correspondent Louisa James had any doubts about the Prime Minister’s sincerity, she kept them to herself. Although had Andrew Neil been questioning Starmer, he might have asked how committed he is to English history given that he had pictures of Elizabeth I and Walter Raleigh taken down from the Number Ten walls last October. Neil might also have asked if the PM’s conversion to patriotism was a cynical election stunt, if Emily Thornberry still sneered at public flag displays, and how celebrating our values sat with covertly subverting Brexit , selling out our fishermen, persecuting veterans, and cracking down on free speech.



..I could go on, but as someone who has called for TV to celebrate England’s national day for decades, any coverage was an improvement on the media class’s haughty default setting of self-loathing.

BBC Breakfast ran a short clip of a 60ft by 26ft St George’s flag being unveiled in Nottingham, while ITV’s This Morning – vastly improved under Cat and Ben – sent Dan Hatfield to a West Sussex antiques fair to consort with Morris Dancers. He also met purveyors of James Bond books and Star Wars toys (made in England, like the original films). There was less cheery patriotism in evidence in the evening.

BBC1’s EastEnders has celebrated everything from American Independence Day to Diwali, but the only time St Geo’s Day featured, it was an Alfie Moon scam. Ian Dury once sang ‘There are jewels in the crown of England’s glory, too numerous to mention but a few’, but BBC2, who found time to celebrate Irish pop and rock for St Patrick, were disinclined to do the same for England’s rich musical tapestry. Why though? Would it really hurt for a single major broadcaster to devote one evening a year to English culture and achievements? A bit of Sharpe and Hornblower, some sporting glory, authors, playwrights, artists, inventors, Nelson, the Kinks, Arthur Daley, the Tolpuddle martyrs.

.. Sadly little of England’s unique comic legacy would get past today’s dim-witted censors.

The Cancellation Of Kenny Everett was the latest reminder of comedy we’re no longer allowed to laugh at. Kenny, aka Maurice Cole, was a “sparrow-limbed, bird-brained disc-jockey” whose TV career began with ITV’s Kenny Everett Video Show in 1978. His anarchic humour packed in zany mimicry, jolting jump-cuts, jingles, bloopers and cartoonish characters like swaggering rocker Sid Snot and televangelist Brother Lee Love.

Later he added Cupid Stunt – a bearded transvestite with a huge bosom and restless legs who was prone to shrieking “It’s all in the best possible taste!” At his peak Everett pulled in 15million viewers. His fans included Elton John , Sting, Freddie Mercury, and Rod Stewart who happily embraced his daft encounters. Ken was still in the closet when Elton quipped, “He doesn’t look very butch, does he?” The charges for the prosecution were: the recurring use of risqué dancers Hot Gossip, slow-motion close-ups of Cleo Rocos’s “knockers” (Ken’s words), and black face – none of it an issue at the time.

In fact, BBC1 happily poached him to host The Kenny Everett Show. Cleo defended Ken, but Channel 5 rolled out three Gen Zzzz-ers to tell us why Ken’s madcap mirth was unacceptable. Enough! Censorious children may believe our minds will curdle with unacceptable prejudices if we laugh at Kenny or Benny Hill, but they should accept that comedy, like drama and art, reflects the values of its time.

Over-sensitive, box-ticking executives have all but driven laughter out of prime-time TV. Even the immortal Dave Allen and Monty Python would run afoul of today’s puritans. Many of us groan every time some nitwit slaps a warning on the innocent joys of Dad’s Army or Victoria Wood.

The only rule in comedy should be: Is it funny? Frank Carson popped up on The Wheeltappers & Shunters Social Club (TPTV) doing daft gags like “Your uncle Joe drank a bottle of varnish, he had a horrible death but a lovely finish.” Well, it was the way he told ’em. Belfast-born Frank once asked me to write his memoir, but no publisher would touch it.

Millions loved him but book company sales teams hadn’t heard of him. It was surreal seeing Broadway legend Howard Keel on the same Blackpool social club bill. But, with Marti Caine and Kenny Ball performing too, it was the week’s best variety show.

Finally, while Doctor Who lectured us on American racial politics (again – never the sins of Stalin or Pol Pot for the Doc), The Last Of Us roared back to life after a lackadaisical season opener with a thrilling episode including a mass invasion of fungus-zombies and the brutal murder of a key character. The Sky Atlantic series has scenery superb enough for Race Across The World, plus real jeopardy. How it can keep us hooked without Joel is the big question, but at least the mushroom-brained undead have a future as Channel 5 comedy censors.

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