Friday Night With Jonathan Ross
BBC 1
THERE were prolonged cheers from a hyped-up studio audience when Jonathan Ross stepped through the magic doorway after his three-month spell of gardening leave.
“So where were we?” he asked innocently, echoing Ken Livingstone after his post-Thatcher triumph as Mayor of London. Yes, his chat show Friday Night With Jonathan Ross was back, and this seemed to be the same old Wossy: cocky grin, geezer swagger, dandy hair and suit. He compared his sudden exit to that of George W Bush – “What kind of idiot says stupid things like that, knowing he would be recorded?” – before launching into a brief, scripted apology: privilege to be a broadcaster, hurt and distress caused and so on.
It sounded as sincere as you could expect under the circumstances, if a little rushed. It was hardly calculated to appease the wrath of thespian and revered elder Andrew Sachs, however, whose grand-daughter had been insulted by Ross and comic Russell Brand on BBC Radio 2. Duty done, Ross then attempted a little nob gag: “Talking of enormous cock-ups, may I introduce my house band…” to show he could still be a naughty boy. “It’ll be a gradual change, obviously”, he added.
In fact, it seemed to be quite an instant one. His first celebrity guest, comedian Lee Evans, set up (consciously or unconsciously) several smutty gags for Ross to step in, but his host stepped around each of them like dog mess on the pavement. “This set still looks like a brothel”, complained Evans, “the same old S&M sofa”, before describing his teenage daughter’s newfound interest in sex. This prompted not a nibble from Ross, who humbly confessed: “I’m easily excited these days – I’m excited just being out.” Stephen Fry was gentler with Ross – “I’m honoured to be one of the guests to help you off the naughty step” – boring him (and us) silly with worthy talk of filming rare wildlife in New Zealand.
By the time that star guest Tom Cruise came on, Ross had warmed up a little. He ribbed the diminutive movie star about his embarrassing on-screen sofa-jumping incident. When Cruise did not retaliate in kind, he grew bolder. When breaking wind in bed, did Cruise fan the duvet or “lock down”?
It seemed to be an image pregnant with meaning for Ross himself. Sailing closer to the wind, he asked the star: did he ever answer the phone, put on a foreign accent and pretend to be someone else? This time, the studio audience remained horribly silent – was this a self-knocking gag or just a Freudian slip?
That’s going to be the dilemma for Ross: can he avoid the temptation to flip his own “taste and decency” transgressions into defiant comedy? Can his guests? If he tries to be good, he’ll be pulling his punches and losing his edge. If he goes for it, the newly-puritan viewing millions and the BBC top brass will go for him.
That’s why, despite surviving the re-opening of his TV show, I can’t see much more mileage in it. Even before his sexist remarks on Radio 2, I thought his chat show had run out of steam – a tired format and increasingly rushed and sycophantic delivery from Ross. I was hoping he’d branch out into more interesting areas – exploiting his passion for film, kitsch and popular culture, perhaps.
I suspect, however, that – after a suitable spell proving the BBC still needs him – he’ll allow himself to be lured away to ITV or one of the digital channels. Either that or go out in a blaze of glorious four-letter words, waving two fingers at the lot of us. It would make a great gesture against the new puritanism, but somehow I doubt it will happen.
Helen Chappell
