...I shit you not.
I was shocked at first by this revelation myself - I didn't expect the world to work this way. I didn't think, one day, that I'd be sitting around praising Jason Donovan's journalism skills. Let alone thinking he was more of a journalist, with more integrity and more cojones, than the capricious, wilfully thick banality of 'Ooh, John on the M4 says everyone should be murdered, thanks for that John, keep your texts coming in' performed by the likes of Vine and Derbyshire on a tedious daily basis.
I can take about 20 seconds of Vine or Derbyshire, 30 at a push. I was in Kwik-Fit the other day and I could hear Vine on the radio - I nearly had to drill my face in with a compressed air wheelgun to try and take the misery away.
Useless, pointless, vacuous. "Hello caller, What do you have to say?"
"Well I think it's terrible."
"Well why do you think that?"
"Because it is, isn't it? I blame that Tony Blair. Tony Blair, Tony Liar more like?! Things are bad and I think it's terrible. I fought and died for my country. Things are not quite the way I'd like them and therefore I blame everyone and everything other than me."
"Thanks for that, I've got an email in from Jacqui in Basingstoke. 'Why are we employing immigrants in this country? I'd like to see how I got on in Saudia Arabia! People should be less tolerant and more bad at basic human qualities like compassion and caring about things.' Thanks for that Jacqui..."
And it goes on, and on, and on, and on. You might as well employ a relatively talented chicken to press a button that plays a prerecorded "Thanks for that, keep your views coming in, we want to know what you think..." load of old schtick, and save the cost of a journalist. Trained journalists, these people. And they sit there saying, well on the one hand Clive from Ipswich says we should burn children alive, but on the other hand Mrs Loony from Swanage wants children to be dipped in acid and then vomited on for 25 hours. Drivel! Balls! Double balls and bollocks.
Donovan, on the other hand, he ploughs his own furrow. I was listening to his programme on commercial radio last night and something magical, something beautiful, happened. Donovan - not a trained journalist, I might remind you, but just some bloke off the telly - read out a text and disagreed with it.
Yes, he did.
He disagreed with it. On air. Actually did something other than read out what someone else had to say about something. He said something along the lines of: "Well, I'm not sure I agree with that". He didn't shit himself about having an opinion about something! Not in a Gaunt/Ferrari/any of those other nonsensical twats kind of way, but in a "Well, this subject might be a little bit more complex than you simply trying to write it all off in one sentence" kind of way. Had I not been driving at the time, I would have leapt up into the air and sent thousands of fireworks into the night sky; as it was, I just banged the steering wheel with delight and carried along my way.
Vine; Derbyshire. Why the fuck do you bother? Jason Donovan is better than you.