Just a Thought: De Burgh Spoils Breakfast

Had to share this lovely item, depite it being over a week old now.

Chris De Burgh appeared on BBC Breakfast to sing a tribute to the families of the Hillsborough victims in their week of grief, happily coinciding with his new album release, Footsteps – which judging by the snippet we heard is, as expected, bloody awful. In the clip, De Burgh manages to soil the memory of Byrds classic, Turn Turn with that trademark yawning vocal.

From his feigning shock at the presence of a 12 string, his outright destruction of a Beatles classic, his bizarre acapella tribute to ther scousers and the fawning smiles of Silverton and Turnbull, everything about this seems designed to curl the toes and put the viewer off their tea and toast.

Or maybe it’s just me.

Enjoy – and see you on the new site – if I don’t click the wrong button and blow it up over the weekend…

Snow Reportage – LBC & BBC Breakfast

Bill Turnbull and Sian Williams were trying to survive the sudden blast of snowfall without any guests – apart from Rory Bremner, and he doesn’t really count. They kept having to cut to the weather, which was on every 20 minutes in extended 15 minute blocks, meaning that most of the morning’s scheduling was dedicated to the white stuff. (It’s snowing, apparently).

Bill and Sian were also having to put up with the constant appearance of a bespectacled, unshaven drunk who claimed he was the expert on travel. Except he seemed to know as much as I know about the roads and rail, and was bluffing his way through an extended section because there weren’t any guests to speak to afterwards.

Over on LBC, Ferrari, that portly prick who’s employed solely to stoke the fire in the bellies of the small-minded, seems forlorn. He’s without any health and safety practitioners to berate and hasn’t been able to have a pop at the politically correct gestapo all morning, with his show also focusing on this infernal blank rot falling from the sky. He’s having to talk to the kids who can’t get to school and the commuters freezing outside train stations, when it’s obvious he’d rather be ripping a part traffic wardens and congestion chargers.

I’m going to keep listening, in the hope he blames all this rotten weather on the Poles.

BBC Breakfast

BBC Breakfast is brilliant. I’ve tried Today on Radio 4 but the upper-middle class presenters (who all speak reeeeeeally sloooooowly) tend to make my early morning coma even worse than it already is.

I’ve no idea what’s on Channel 4 any more, since RI:SE was axed and the lovely Zora Suleman removed from our screens. The days of the Big Breakfast are long gone. GMTV is all soft-furnishings, cheesy grins and Ben Sheppard, so clearly it’s BBC1 all the way.

The set up is a big screen, a sofa, suits and presenters. Quite a sparse scene, so the presenters have to do all the work. Rather than come on like your childless Uncle and Auntie as they do over on GMTV, the BBC presenters look as knackered as you are. This results in them frequently fluffing their lines and wearing expressions that say ‘what the giddy fuckfuck am I doing out of bed at this ungodly hour?’.

Here’s a look at the ones I see in my window of viewing before I’m herded onto the cattle truck, with breakfast still dripping down my chin.

Sian Williams

Sian’s the most straightforward of the bunch. She’s a no bullshit presenter from the old school. Slick, professional and focused, she’s the adhesive that keeps this shambles running, and may God bless her for that.

Bill Turnbull

Bill’s apparently an amateur beekeeper, chicken-lover and fan of Wycombe Wanderers. This trio of outside interests clearly play on his mind when he’s called upon to make a link, as he becomes so bewildered by his autocue that he often umms and aahs over his actions like a confused old man. The inevitable shouting from production ringing in his ears is clearly too much for him to take and his face relaxes into a dazed sleepiness. He looks like he should be sitting in his pyjamas reading the headlines from a tabloid – like a Dad trying to wake up slowly as his wife witters on about shoes.

Declan Curry

Somehow Declan manages to look even more shattered than Billy Turnbull. His wry humour makes the economy seem fleetingly comprehensible, but then as soon as he’s gone, like a mirage, your understanding dissolves and you’re back to blaming the credit crunch on some American mortgage or something like that.

Chris Hollins

Chris is either on very strong uppers or is a child dressed up as a man. He should be intensely irritating, with his perpetually chipper attitude to sport and his sharp and cutting mockery of our hero Bill, but for some reason he gets away with it. He’s like the short kid at school who didn’t get bullied because he was a half-decent striker. You want to dislike him but you just can’t.

Susanna Reid

Last on our whistlestop tour of morning mutterers is the lovely Susanna Reid. Susanne stood in for Sian when she was on holiday. She’s like Sian but more distant. Her valium-eyes droop low and her slow, suttering speech patterns make you feel like your sitting with a Vicodin-drenched housewife somewhere in suburban Surrey with a hot water bottle. It’s a strange way to start the day when Susanna’s at the helm.

I’ve missed off the other business bloke who always strikes me as stern and sarcastic. I’ve also omitted the spaced out weathergirl who always stands, inexplicably, in the Blue Peter garden. Even when it’s pissing it down with rain. And I’ve missed off some others. Apologies to those not on the list. I’m sure you’ll consider packing it all in when you realise you’ve been left out.

God bless BBC Breakfast, God and the Queen.