Whatchyou Talkin' About Andrew Neil?

The less you have to do, the more unemployed or studenty you are, the more you will encounter Andrew Neil on television. There is a positive correlation between the two. The veteran presenter features on both The Daily Politics and The Week, usually positioned cautiously into a sort of velvet, purple background.

Andrew Neil is frequently a perceptive and intelligent political commentator and interviewer; a professor of television, who seems an authority to us, the masses who don't understand a bloody thing about politics we don't.

Unfortunately, Professor Neil frequently lets himself down with his eccentricities. During his broadcasts he can launch himself from one piece of particularly strong journalism, before throwing himself violently into a surreal commentary of his own design, like, "but can you deny the cuts hit the poorest hardest? Anyway, moving on, and the monkey pheasant doesn't wear a hat in the morning, am I right?" *smirk smirk smirk*...a lot of people don't understand politics as it is, ok, and so they're going to be pretty fucking puzzled by all this I can tell you.

But he doesn't deliver it with the required volume of a red nosed eccentric, but does it with a creepy intimacy.
"There now, that's ALL the politics done. Come in close. A little closer now, come on, don't be shy! Have you ever wondered, WHY GEORGE Osborne, looks into the little nutshell house, that paint's the eyes of the moose God yellow - I know you do, yes, you and I are well aware of the candy land that exists on the moon [he whispers quietly to you the viewer, until you snap back into reality] - NOW WE GO, to Westminster, where I understand Mr. Clegg is ready to address the cabinet...and, as we all know, pearls make the girl" *smirk smirk smirk, I've just made a joke he says*

...which apparently is all a big wink and a nudge to us the viewer, but we literally have no idea why, because he is the only one involved in this weird in-joke between presenter and viewer. Watching Andrew Neil on the Daily Politics leaves you reeling; brocolli creates anarchy in March? Really? I thought we were talking about budget cuts, how curious, still, he is a venerated authority on political broadcasting. I guess politics is just too complex for our mere human minds.

He's not senile yet, but the problem is that when Andrew Neil does finally descend into lunacy over the next few years, no one is going to notice until it's too late and he's up on the sofa wearing little red pants and thrusting his groin into the faces of some of his bewildered guests, who even now are forced to bend to his whims and play ridiculous politics games with like...coloured balls and...soft parody that act as hideous innacurate satirical questionnaires on public opinion...God it's awful. I'm going to watch cartoons now, it makes so much more sense.

ASK RHOD GILBERT (if you can shout loud enough)

HELLO AND WELCOME TO ASK RHOD GILBERT, THIS NEXT ONE IS FROM CHARLES MEYRICK AND HE ASKS:

“Rhod Gilbert, is there any point in the show, or indeed your life, when you are not furiously shouting?”

NO CHARLIE, THERE ISN’T, he would reply, although this would all suggest that ‘Ask Rhod Gilbert’ on BBC1 actually began at any point during it’s half hour slot. It does, of course, eventually kick-off, but only after literally ten minutes. Whilst a panel show traditionally begins with neat introductions and a concise joke, Rhod Gilbert first launches into a bit on 'menus' – a bit where he predictably shouts and repeats the joke five times, using the word lasagne no less than twelve times. Count it. I dare you. It's well observed, but impossibly beaten to death. Then revived. Then killed.

Once this is taken care of and the viewer has had time to turn the televisions volume down to 1, in order to compensate for his twelve-packs-a-day lion roar, there is then time to introduce the entirely annonymous, completely unrecognisable panel. A regular is “Greg Davies”. Who the hell is that? Don’t worry, it’s the headmaster from the Inbetweeners, a seemingly funny guy but who actually, when you get down to it, is not without a good script in his hands. There’s also Lloyd. Presumably he is also a comedian, but opts for the role of bookend on this panel of four...there are no teams, it’s just a panel of four...that’s too many surely for one team? Dear Rhod Gilbert, am I watching Family Fortunes?
The other two are just people you really will not have heard of...'joining Greg & Lloyd today is Romanian bronze medallist Ezra Labondt and south east todays transport correspondant Paul Siegert – geezuz. H. Crisps, is this the recession in it’s full effect? I’ll just watch old QI repeats on Dave thank you very much.

The guests aren’t done there. Then we get a two minute introduction on another celebrity. Probably a chef or something. He gets a little computer to 'answer' Rhod's questions, but otherwise has a com-pletely irrelevant role in the...game? Is this a game? There’s no competitive element because there are no teams and in fact, literally no point to the programme whatsoever, unless consuming time counts as a purpose now; if it does, this programme is the equivalent to Job Centre Plus (hiii-ooh!).

Rhod delivers a number of tame yet volumess jokes which receive a luke-warm response from the studio audience...a studio...audience...these are the same sort of people who actually take the time out to go and see X-factor. The colour yellow probably makes them laugh. The same audience get to ‘Ask Rhod’ a question. They’re not great at generating comedy, as any improv comedian probably knows, and they come up with desperately surreal things about guacamole and swimming pools. In defence, this is because they have no brief in this painfully aimless show – the whole thing is like a hospital patient who has escaped onto the Yorkshire downs with concussion. It’s a living nightmare.

This whole thing really belongs on Five. It screeeams Five. No one contributes anything, its just starts off as being loud and garish and finally ends with mild disappointment. It's probably what supporting Manchester City feels like.
This was half an hour of boring people, sitting around a boring dinner table and exchanging dull stories over a store bought lasagne. I don’t want to watch that. I can live that if I want to.

Towards the end there was a 'you’ve been framed-esque' video of a dog jumping into a wall...in response, we receive a story about waking up in a tent. Finally the poor celebrity chef charged with a computer of information comes in with some Wikipedia information and a buzzer goes off. Is that the end? I don't know. The word "answer" comes up but I don't seem to have any.

But the show doesn’t end. Dear government...if you’re making cuts, please start with this piece of television and everyone responsible for comissioning it. It’s just not necessary, the show has no point except to slowly sap your energy, like a hideous, talentless poision or a feminist.

OH, and it all ends with a sketch. Well, I say sketch, it’s like the end bit of Shooting Stars meets I’m A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here; not a winning combination. In the episode that I observed, a guy had to eat a chille and then got yoghurt shoved in his mouth with a spoon, messily. Then some ice-cream. Then water was thrown at him. Then he got an ice machine in his face. It was like Looney Toons, only with none of the intellect. Or Fun House, without the...sexy twins? In fact, any comparison would give the show too much credit.

Finally Rhod ends the show by saying “I’M RHOD GILBERT AND YOU CAN ASK ME, LITERALLY, ANYTHING...”. Dear Rhod Gilbert, will you please, never do anything again, ever. Thanks.