This article about men wearing the colour pink certainly isn't the worst thing on the BBC website ever. That's in no small part because this, about some bloody television programme that isn't even on the BBC, is.*
The politics of pinkness have been batted about this week by the media, like a lazy cat patting a ping-pong ball under the settee, and what we've got is stuff like this:
In many areas of British life, like the City, pink shirts are seen as normal workwear. Pink ties are normal. Even pink socks make an appearance.
Even pink socks. Look, I don't mean to have a bash at the BBC because I do love them so much, and they're so much more interesting and diligent than certain other media outlets we could name, but I can't stand much more of this.
"We have come a long way even compared with 20 years ago," says Johnston. "Pink was the last taboo colour-wise."
I fear that's not quite the case, and I have a photo to prove it:
Look at that pure windblown, open-necked, medallioned, cravatted sex. Look at it! Look at it right there!
No further questions.
* Can't we have a return to the bad old days, when you had to buy a separate TV Times and Radio Times; and each channel pretended the other didn't exist; and Morecambe & Wise, Brucie and all those other channel-hoppers made clunky jokes about 'the other side'? Why must the BBC drool all over the wiltingly awful music-is-sport karaoke shitsack that is the X Factor, as if it's anything culturally important, let alone any good? Oh, Auntie. I thought I knew you. I was wrong!**
** Look, I don't want to blame the reporter who put that together. It's not as if it's a badly written article or anything. It's just that it exists at all that makes me want to burn myself on something to make the pain go away.***
*** Not as much as those TV trailers for Noel's Christmas Presents, obviously.