Red nose irritation

It's Comic Relief's Red Nose Day this week, as A K Haart's timely post reminds me; a worthy idea that has been hijacked to incorporate and give licence to irritating behaviour on a national scale while, it turns out, being funded in part out of the television licence fee.

The original inspiration had much to recommend it, and the comedians who started it up put a great deal of time and effort into creating something that offered decent comedy in exchange for public contributions, but in the years since, it has expanded to become a BBC-led extravaganza of celebrity glitz and trivia accompanied by a national idiocy-laden free-for-all.

With the notable recent exception of the' Great British Bake-Off', the BBC has largely taken the lazy route of replacing established comedians performing sharply-written sketches with 'Oooh! Look at the celebrities doing funny things'; the trouble is that one man's 'funny' is another man's 'bloody stupid', and there's a distinct whiff of lowest common denominator about the whole thing.

And then there's practice of replacing the speaking clock and inviting people to ring it to donate, though at least this year it's Clare Balding rather than sound-effect-laden silly messages read by Radio 1 DJs. That was a particularly low point; it used the usual number, the one dialled by anyone who really needs to know the exact time, in which case the last thing they are likely to want is someone messing about on the other end.

But what I really dislike about the whole business is the thinly-disguised witch-hunt on the part of some participants; if you display anything less than inane enthusiasm when accosted in the street by an over-excited shop assistant in an expensively-hired chicken suit waving a collecting bucket, you are somehow guilty of wanting African babies to starve.

Well, this year, at least, I have the moral high ground; I have a funeral to go to on Friday and anyone who tries anything unreasonable on the way is likely to get a loud and cathartic earful on the subject of inappropriate importuning of the public.

A small and utterly reprehensible part of me is secretly hoping it will happen.

'Er...I'll have the second prize, please'

It's been an odd week for fundraising. First, the Urchin's school holds a sponsored swim to fund a playground for Guatemalan orphans and rewards the year-group that raised the most with a mass outing to a theme park - 'Hey, guys, we've bought you a tyre swing; now we're off to Alton Towers to celebrate!' - and then one of the least desirable raffle prizes ever is offered in the USA .

'In an e-mail sent to millions of people who supported Hillary Clinton’s White House campaign, the former President asks: “How would you like the chance to come up to New York and spend the day with me?” For those who would like the One-Day-With-Bill prize, an online donation of as little as $5 will buy them the chance.'

It seems it's a costly business running for President - estimates of debts run up by Hillary during her campaign run at about $25m, which rather takes the shine off the assertion that anyone can be president of the United States. As Secretary of State, Hillary is barred from fundraising so Bill has taken on the task.

This is apparently the second time this year he has raffled himself - the article doesn't say what happened last time; perhaps it's still sub judice - even though the Clintons aren't exactly short of cash. Their joint earnings from speaking engagements and memoirs 2000-2007 are estimated at $109 million.

And there's a horrible future spectre looming - if, as we heard yesterday, Cherie Blair took to sitting in on Cabinet Meetings (h/t Mrs Rigby), could she be harbouring future leadership aspirations? And if so, will we one day see Tony Blair selling himself to fund his wife's political ambitions?

Astral Projection, Cosmic Chakras and Fake Charities

For reasons which are too complex to explain, I have been reading a description by David Icke – pastel-tracksuited self-proclaimed son of the Almighty, remember? – of how he was chosen to fulfil the destiny of his ancient soul (or, if you prefer, how he was taken for a ride by an assortment of New-Age charlatans).

An ancient Chinese mandarin, improbably communicating through a medium called Betty, warned Icke of impending global disaster in the late 90s. Guided by various astral beings (as interpreted by helpful local psychics), Icke dutifully toiled round Britain and Canada unblocking cosmic energy channels and re-aligning the Earth’s chakras.

And it’s a good thing he did, it seems, because thanks to his tireless efforts, the global catatrophe was averted or at least reduced to minimal scale, and the dangerous years passed with no major incident. This, says Icke triumphantly, is conclusive proof of the success of cosmic intervention.

And that reminded me of something I read recently. As a newby to fake charity spotting, I may have this a bit wrong, but it strikes me that this story admirably conveys the essence of fake charity logic; see, they say, there is an urgent need for action to avert a crisis! Give us public money and resources NOW!

And when no crisis materialises, far from being abashed, they rejoice publicly that their prescience and prompt action prevented the impending disaster. See, they say, our strategy worked! How much more we could do if our importance and funds were increased!

Unless, of course, you prefer to attribute it all to astral intervention.

(H/T Mark Wadsworth)

Comic Relief - a Counterblast

Will somebody please tell me what’s happened to Comic Relief?

I know it raises vital funds and helps save lives, and I appreciate that people dig deeper into their pockets when prompted by such an incentive, but does it have to be a national festival of inanity spreading its unwanted influence into every sphere of life?

Don’t get me wrong – I have the greatest respect for Lenny Henry and the other celebrities who have worked hard for the cause for many years and I wish them well in their fundraising endeavours – but enough is enough; I am happy to participate by choice but less so when it is forced upon me.

Now it’s over and the danger of red-nosed lynch mobs is past, I can say I am not a fan of being accosted by someone dressed as a chicken rattling a collecting bucket – how much does he have to take just to cover the costume hire? - or of the slogan ‘do something funny for money’. The problem is that one person’s ‘funny’ is someone else’s ‘bloody stupid’ or worse.

We are in danger of creating a sort of All Fools’ Day, giving license to the most puerile and tasteless pranks as long as money can be made from it. As an example, I offer the 6-weeks ‘celebrity’ Speaking Clock; Chris Moyles et al using silly voices, blowing raspberries and generally messing about – 10p per call to Comic Relief.

They obviously hope Radio 1 fans will call in in droves to listen, which would have been fine had the joke recordings used a separate telephone number. The continued existence of the Speaking Clock suggests that people still use the service; someone who needs to know the exact time badly enough to pay 30p for it is hardly likely to want it embellished with infantile pranks.

What next? Customer services staffed by the cast of Eastenders? Tax helplines manned by footballers? 999 calls answered by Jonathan Ross? By all means raise money for charity, but leave the country’s infrastructure alone.