Who dumbed it?

11 April 2012

Noel Edmonds, in a notable act of penance, has donned his hair shirt and admitted that he has been a significant contributor to the dumbing down of TV. But he adds in mitigation: 'I'm not quite so guilty as others.'

So, who could he mean? I suppose the first sign of a decline in standards came before World War II when the BBC decided that it was no longer necessary for presenters to read the news in a dinner jacket. But the real collapse, as Edmonds (the man behind Mr Blobby, the gunge tank and Crinkley Bottom) concedes, came in the Nineties.

It was then that the drive for ratings changed the search for quality popular programmes into an increasingly desperate bid to locate the lowest common denominator of public taste.

Smut, crudity and the glorification of laddish antics have replaced wit, subtlety and civilised behaviour as the hallmarks of peak-time programming on all the mainstream channels.

Putting a camera in front of 'real people' and encouraging them to act outrageously has become our national sport, a degrading - but very cheap - way of filling the airwaves.

As someone who has spent more than two decades writing about TV, I have compiled a list of my nominees to join Mr Blobby in the Top 20 graduates of the Noel Edmonds' Academy of Shame. Some are the usual suspects, others are less obvious choices - for dumbing down can take many forms.

Keith Chegwin: Made his biggest splash by appearing starkers in a game show for nudists on Channel 5. When executives misguidedly revived the hoary gameshow It's A Knockout - the first of many programmes that made ordinary people do ridiculous things - Chegwin (now clothed) was its host.

Graham Norton: A twinkly, camp Irish comedian whose deliberately smutty chat show dominates Channel 4's late-night schedules, proving that you can forge a career out of making outrageous double entendres and raising your eyebrows a lot.

Jerry Springer: The originator of the extreme audience participation show, where desperate people are persuaded to come into the studio and confront adulterous husbands, abused wives, men who have slept with their mothers-in-law - and those are some of the more orthodox scenarios. If the participants come to blows, so much the better. Springer has spawned a host of imitators here, including...

Vanessa Feltz: Her milder version of the Springer formula was axed by the BBC when it was found that her researchers were planting people in the audience specifically to stage confrontations. (So what else is new?) She also had a spell on The Big Breakfast, conducting interviews in bed - an art form pioneered by Paula Yates.

Robert Kilroy-Silk The former Labour MP's morning Kilroy show is a watered-down, non-violent version of Jerry Springer. People are bullied into revealing secrets that would have been better left in the closet. Maybe he should have stuck with New Labour.

Sara Cox (as nominated by Edmonds): Notorious for using rude words on her Radio 1 breakfast show, she made her mark as an up-for-it Lancastrian on Channel 4's The Big Breakfast, and then on the awful The Girlie Show. Maybe not the first female lager lout, but the best known.

Chris Evans(another Edmonds nominee I endorse): His cheeky, anything-goes approach on The Big Breakfast was refreshing when the programme made its debut in 1992, but soon began to go sour as his behaviour became more and more extreme, and he took himself into late-night TV with Don't Forget Your Toothbrush and the dire TFI Friday.

He has made millions out of the business, although he has just come out the loser in expensive litigation with Richard Branson's, Virgin Radio, which found him virtually uncontrollable.

Cilla Black: Her Blind Date on ITV was an inspired idea when it was launched back in 1985, but over the years it became less and less spontaneous, with contestants speaking rehearsed lines and the winners giving sometimes cruel and vulgar reports on their dates.

Antoine de Caunes: Presenter of Channel 4's aptly named Eurotrash, a fatuous round-up of pornographic and lewd junk TV broadcast on the Continent.

Davina McCall: Impossibly excitable hostess of the Big Brother programmes, she goads the expelled inmates into making indiscreet disclosures about their housemates.

Anne Robinson: As Chris Tarrant shows on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?, there is no need to embarrass contestants to make a gripping quiz programme. She is a victim of the media culture that decrees that nothing is interesting without conflict.

David Dickinson: Like other spin-offs from the Antiques Roadshow, his programme Bargain Hunt places less emphasis on the beauty of the objects and more on the greed of the purchasers. Art for the covetous 21st century.

Lorraine Heggessey: The controller of BBC1 has shown herself determined to outscore ITV in the ratings war, regardless of quality and ignoring the fact that viewers pay their licence fee so that the BBC does not have to follow commercial criteria.

Her latest trick is to copy ITV's Pop Idol with the inferior Fame Academy and schedule it at the same time.

Natalka Znak: The head of Reality TV at London Weekend Television (crazy name, crazy job title) has been responsible for plumbing the depths in such programmes as I'm A Celebrity . . . Get Me Out Of Here. For her previous employer, Sky One, there was Temptation Island and Ibiza Uncovered - the show that triggered voyeuristically sordid programmes about club reps abroad.

Peter Bazalgette: Best known as the boss of the company that makes Big Brother, he also pioneered mindless make-over shows - Changing Rooms and Ground Force, for example.

Dawn Airey: As head of Channel 5, she famously declared that its agenda should be 'football, films and f***ing', and, for a while, she was as good as her word. The late-night sex shows set an example that other channels emulated. She now runs the Sky satellite network.

Janet Street-Porter: She made a fair stab at introducing the dreadful 'yoof TV' to the BBC but blotted her copybook when she was picked to head the L!ve TV station. She was ousted before it went on air, with such joys as topless darts and Norwegian weather girls. The station folded.

Bob Geldof: The Irishman was a co-founder of Planet 24, the station that brought us Chris Evans and The Big Breakfast. The company, now owned by Carlton, was also responsible for Survivor, in which contestants battled to survive on an island, possibly the worst of the reality TV shows so far. And I've started, so I'll finish . . .

John Humphrys: It may be unfair to include him in this tacky company, but his style of hosting the revived Mastermind is typical of the touchy-feely approach that blights TV today.

Unlike the admirably distant Magnus Magnusson, he insists on getting close to contestants by asking them personal questions. This destroys the atmosphere that used to make the show such compulsive viewing.

The sad truth is that most of the contestants, while not dumb, are pretty dull.

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