Snowflakes faint at Fawlty Towers, but ignore violent computer games!
THE TV channel Talking Pictures has built up something of a cult following by reviving classic British films and old television series which the BBC and ITV no longer have any interest in scheduling.
But even Talking Pictures, aimed as it is at those with a keen interest in social history, has been compelled by the regulator Ofcom to caution its viewers that much of its programming reflects the “language and values of the past”.
Such warnings demonstrate how commonplace it has become to regard the values of previous generations with contempt.
Programmes such as It Was Alright In The 70s invite viewers to express synthetic outrage at footage from old TV comedies.
Such are the sensitivities of liberal broadcasters that comic gems such as Fawlty Towers are never now shown.
Presumably Manuel (Andrew Sachs) being bullied by Basil (John Cleese) is just too much for the snowflake generation to bear.
But do the makers of programmes based on derisive sniggering at the entertainment of yesteryear ever stop to wonder how past generations would regard what we do and view now?
Certainly, they appear blind to the hypocrisy of our age. For today, whilst we are instructed to wag a disapproving finger at the saucy humour of the Carry On films and the seaside postcards of Donald Mcgill, millions secretly trawl the internet for the most degrading hardcore pornography.
These days, national heroes such as Nelson and Churchill, who dedicated their lives to our country, are routinely branded racist imperialists by bourgeois liberals who, given that they never criticise it, presumably see nothing wrong with the desensitising excess of ultra-violent video games. But what would probably shock our forefathers most about the way we live now is just how soulless life has become for so many.
Ours may be an age of excess, but simultaneously too many are too often starved of the genuine warmth nurtured by family, nourished by community and fostered by a shared sense of belonging.
The vitality of communal life has been sapped during my lifetime. This is particularly true of workingclass places, such as the one in which I grew up. People with power deride the bygone world of working men’s clubs and allotments, of darts and dominoes.
Yet, such simple totems of personal pride as emblems of wellbeing provided shape and form to individual lives and to civic life as well. One of the most notable facets of modern Britain is that the institutions that have endured are those populated and possessed by a privileged elite.
While working men’s clubs may, largely, be a thing of the past, the clubs of Pall Mall thrive. Whilst Walthamstow dog stadium has been converted into flats, there is little danger of a similar fate befalling the Badminton Horse trials. It is those institutions that are largely the preserve of the most privileged – from public schools to the bastions of high art – that have been most resilient.
As the elite sneeringly brand the institutions of working-class life as, at best, “vulgar” or, at worst, “vile’”, they jealously guard their own. For the liberal establishment, cultural esotericism is a virtue because it excludes the “ordinary” people they despise.
Consequently, the gap between the classes has grown and life for many has become full of costly material possessions, but valuing very little else.
In seeking fulfilment, we crave the serene sense of belonging provided by family, the shared purpose that springs from fellowship and, ultimately, the patriotic pride born of a deep love for our nation.
Such sentiments embed principles, reinforce values and spawn a sense of obligation.
Stripped of meaningful shared identity, our defining feeling of worth is first eroded and, in the end, evaporates – in this way, lives, beyond the prosaic, lose meaning.
By mocking the way people once lived we expose the shallowness of life for many today.
Manuel being bullied by Basil is just too much for them to bear...