Countryfile must be odd for the wildlife, says JENNIFER SELWAY
GETTY Countryfile busybodies like Matt Baker must annoy the wildlfie
Ben: All clear. Bill: (looking around anxiously) It pays to be cautious. Ben: True. They come out of nowhere. The fact is, Bill, rural Britain is full of busybodies who won’t give us a moment’s peace. Forever prying into where we are, what we’re up to, who we’re dating. They say it’s all for our own good but personally I think it is to fill an aching existential void. At least you knew where you were in the old days when it was only maniacs in tweed with shotguns. Bill: Who’s the ringleader?
Ben: That man called Matt. Wears a beanie. Laughs at his own jokes. And there’ll be a camera crew. They all dress like they’re about to climb Ben Nevis. Ben: Ben who? Bill: Never mind. Plus there’ll be an “expert” in a beanie… or a bobble hat. There’s a lot of smiling and those “serious face” moments to show how caring they are. Ben: You’re frightening me. Then what happens? Bill: Well there you are minding your own business, polishing your whiskers. And suddenly they’re all over you making a hullabaloo about how astonishing it is to see you and how clever they are, their patience rewarded, blah blah.
GETTY Countryfile love talking about long-term studies and conservation
The fact is, Bill, rural Britain is full of busybodies who won’t give us a moment’s peace. Forever prying into where we are, what we’re up to, who we’re dating. Bill
Ben: Easily pleased. Bill: Quite. No offence but I’m never that pleased to see you. Ben: None taken. Bill: Anyway before you know it you’re picked up, prodded and someone puts a ring on your leg or a tag in your ear… Ben: Or a GPS tracker up your… Bill: Steady. But they will stick you in a bag, inspect your genitals and take measurements without so much as a by your leave. If you bite them they chuckle affectionately. Sheesh. Sometimes they – sorry to say this – pick up your droppings and put them in a plastic tub.
GETTY The poor creatures don't understand the point of Countryfile...
Ben: Gross. What’s it all for? Bill: Well, while you’re trying to look dignified in a bag they have a conflab about long-term studies and conservation and how important it is to monitor our movements 24/7. It’s an absolute liberty. Bill: But they let us go afterwards? Don’t they? Ben: Course they do. There’d be one helluva Twitter storm if they hurt one little hair of our precious heads. And they put on a soppy smile when we stomp off into the brambles and call us “little fella” or something. Yuk. As if they’ve done us a favour. Bill: Favour my backside. But the camera crew. What’s that about?
Ben: Well they like to film it all. Bill: Perverts. Ben: I couldn’t possibly comment. It’s for a TV show. Bill: Called..? Ben: …Countryfile. ___________________ This is censorship
GETTY The faintly erotic Waterhouse painting has been censored
Step away from the lily pond. I never thought I’d see the day when a painting – a piece of Victorian kitsch – would be considered too shocking to hang on the wall. The latest victim of the new prudishness is by Pre-Raphaelite John William Waterhouse who specialised in depictions of fruity mythological babes. Manchester Art Gallery has taken down this painting, titled Hylas And The Nymphs, not as an act of censorship (dear me no) but to “prompt conversations”. Well it has certainly done that. The gallery’s curator Clare Gannaway says the decision was made in response to the Time’s Up and #MeToo campaigns against the objectification and harassment of women. It is faintly erotic but so what? Women will find it erotic too, a point which the neo-puritans prefer to ignore.
Anyway a nymph doesn’t lure you into her clammy embrace with a cup of tea and a biscuit. And look at their cool, contemptuous faces. Who’s harassing who here? Poor pretty little Hylas (he was Hercules’s long-suffering boyfriend) doesn’t stand a chance. The leader of the pack may look like butter wouldn’t melt but she has him in a pincer-like grasp. The curator says the picture “probably will return”. Which means it probably won’t. This is censorship. ___________________ We all buy our furniture now
The Conservative politician Alan Clark once dismissed Michael Heseltine as a man who had to buy his own furniture. To be accurate this wasn’t an original Clark witticism, he was quoting a former chief whip, Michael Jopling. Magnificent snobbery nonetheless, the idea being that cocky parvenus don’t have access to inherited console tables. But thanks to Ikea we all – posh and not posh – buy our own cheap pale veneer furniture now while old brown furniture is a drag on the market.
GETTY Michael Heseltine, a man who buys his own furniture
Nobody wants to inherit it and nobody wants to pay for it either. The death last week of Ikea founder Ingvar Kamprad prompted a slew of jokes about flatpacks, Swedish meatballs and Allen keys. But Kamprad’s legacy is not so much the democratisation of furniture but the idea that a wardrobe isn’t for life (as it was for previous generations) but is disposable and replaceable. That said, I read how some Ikea items from the past are now collectors’ items. Though I don’t think they’ve ever had a Billy bookcase on Antiques Roadshow. ___________________ How To Alienate Customers
GETTY (STOCK) The operator certainly knew how to rile Jennifer
I was on the phone to someone from Home Shield Direct to renew the insurance on my washing machine. He gave me a reference and a phone number to ring should it need repairing in the future. Then he said that they always advise “older customers” to write the number down and stick it on the appliance so they don’t lose it. There was a pause as my eyeballs glowed red and my hair coiled like serpents. “Would you like to repeat that?” I said, hearing an edge of menace in my voice which scared even me. I’m sure this poor kid was simply reading from a script. The script titled How To Alienate Customers. ___________________ Must-watch French cop drama ends
BBC Spiral is a must-watch and doesn't sermonise
Saturday nights is Spiral night in our house, the French cop series starring Caroline Proust as Laure Berthaud, the permanently knackered and grumpy detective who hasn’t seen a shower or a change of clothes since 2006 when the series was first shown on BBC Four. Set in a grimy, crime-ridden banlieue of Paris it pulls no punches and is refreshingly message-free and colour-blind in its treatment of race issues. Watching Spiral reminds you just how sermonising and box-ticking British TV drama now tends to be. But I worry about Laure’s new loved-up relationship with her colleague Gilou. She’s verging on happy and her premature baby which caused us so much anxiety now looks bulky enough to start school. It’s the finale tonight so I fear the worst. There are no happy-ever-after endings in Spiral. ___________________ Babes in the wood
A nursery in Sussex has revived the old practice of putting babies outside to sleep – swaddled tinies on sheepskin in a woodland setting. Sweet! I too was of that generation put out in the back garden in my pram with a cat net over the top. It was the done thing. “We brought you in at night of course,” my mother liked to joke. “Usually.” ___________________ Roxy Music re-released
My music for the week is the 45th anniversary fabulously produced re-release of Roxy Music’s first album, called Roxy Music. I love those songs – Ladytron, Virginia Plain, Sea Breezes. Ah the emotion, the panache… A friend who is a genius at impersonations sometimes launches into Virginia Plain segueing into his Leonard Rossiter in Rising Damp. It is incredibly funny but I have to put it sternly out of my mind when I’m communing with Ferry, Eno and the boys. ___________________ Second league royalty
PA Some of these Scandinavian royals appear second-rate
Don’t other countries’ royal families look a rum lot? Kate and William’s royal visit to Scandi-land has introduced us to a whole new cast list. But what do we make of all these Prince Daniels and Crown Princess Victorias? Frankly they look a bit iffy, a tad second league, imposters who bought their titles online. After all has Netflix poured millions of dollars into a long-running drama about Queen Silvia or Queen Sonja? I think not. ___________________ What a terrible affair, Gavin
Wake me up when Gavin Williamson resigns. He sounds a bit of a prat. The current Defence Secretary once worked for a fireplace company called Elgin & Hall, flirted with a colleague and kissed her. In 2004. That’s 14 years ago. He told his wife. Now he’s told everyone. And to think we used to rely on the Tories for cracking sex scandals to add to the gaiety of the nation. Elgin & Hall’s parent company is Aga, so I thought about working up an Aga saga joke. But in the end I really couldn’t be bothered. ___________________