No question: Dimbleby is the master of his art
As Question Time’s chairman steps down, regular panellist Tim Stanley salutes his brilliance – and shares some insider’s tips
When David Dimbleby retires, the V&A should hold an exhibition of his ties. He’s collected around 100 of them – featuring everything from purple spiders to flying pigs – and if you’re ever on the Question Time panel they can be a yardstick of success.
I’ve done it seven times, and I always ring my mother afterwards to ask how I did. If she begins with, “Well … I thought Dimbleby’s tie was very nice,” you know it didn’t go well.
My first appearance on the programme was in 2014, before the Scottish referendum, and as you can imagine, the hour prior to recording was terrifying. Dimbleby was reassuringly professional, like a pilot with a nervous flier, and delivered a pep talk I’ve got to know almost by heart: argue with each other, engage with the audience, try your best to enjoy it. Ha!
Next Thursday, Dimbleby chairs his last ever Question Time. When he took over from Peter Sissons in 1994, at the height of John Major’s premiership, the Tories were in an unhappy state – Ann Widdecombe was once booed by the audience just for sitting down at the Question Time table, before she’d even opened her mouth – and Labour exercised such a firm grip over its MPS that there was a serious risk of politics dying of boredom.
So Dimbleby’s task was to keep things forensic and exciting. He has said that the best editions of the show are those that have “a whiff of danger”, when there might be a fight or an unmasking. Some of these moments have entered TV legend: Ian Hislop telling Mary Archer that Jeffrey had destroyed the Conservative Party’s reputation; Eric Pickles facing a hostile crowd at the height of the expenses scandal. Sir Eric complained that MPS had to do things such as turn up to committees on time; Dimbleby quipped, “like a job, in other words?”
Some episodes are a slice of social history. I remember viewing an episode in 2009 – known as “the BNP episode” – in stunned silence, as Nick Griffin was carefully exposed as a racist buffoon. “Why are you smiling …” the host asked Griffin when Holocaust denial was discussed. “It’s not a particularly amusing issue.”
Around 8.30pm, with the panellists made-up and done memorising their lines, we’re led into the local town hall or whatever venue has been chosen to host the episode, and sit down in front of a warmed up audience. They’re usually in a good mood: they get to do a mock broadcast before, playing at being members of the panel.
Dimbleby introduces the professionals. One pays close attention to the quality of applause when he reads out your name. First we do a run-through question to warm us up. The old hands, like me, know that this is a chance to signal to the audience that you’re a good chap: tell a gag or have a pop at Westminster.
It’s funny, though, how the mood instantly changes the moment our host reads his autocue and you realise it’s being recorded for real. If you’re unlucky, you get the first question. When this happened to me, I was asked if Theresa May should resign as PM. I’d rehearsed a great long speech full of maybes and perhapses, but in my nerves I just said: “Yes.” A woman in the audience gasped.
The job of the journalist is to be an informed member of the public on the panel, to throw in questions, add facts or point out a lie. The job of the host is a bit misunderstood.
Dimbleby is always getting it in the
The best editions of the show are those that have a whiff of danger, when there might be a fight
neck for imbalance (translation: he didn’t give my party enough time to speak), but I think he’s, quite brilliantly, trying to do two things.
One is keep the audience front-andcentre. This isn’t a Newsnight one-onone; it’s essentially a town-hall meeting with a public service remit, and not only does Dimbleby have to bring in “the lady with the green hat” but he has to ensure that her point is fully addressed.
Generally speaking, if he appears to get into a fight with a panellist, that’s why. He can tell when you’re sliding into a pre-prepared speech (and, yes, they’re all rehearsed in the National Express loo on the way to Port Merion) and he’ll demand you return to the question or clarify your language. Recall when he told Terry Christian that he was banging on and “getting boring”, and thus spoke for England.
Secondly, Dimbleby’s job is to let things happen. Since Jeremy Paxman, we’ve got used to the interviewer as interrogator, but one of Dimbleby’s greatest skills is being able to judge when a moment speaks for itself: scant intervention was necessary when Ed Miliband finished his closing speech at the end of a Question Time election special in 2016 and then tripped his way off the stage.
Let most politicians speak for long enough and they dig their own graves. Dimbleby doesn’t project his personality or views but rather presses and teases and allows events to unfold. He’s got a journalist’s eye: this isn’t about choreographing events but observing and analysing them. He is, as one distinguished TV veteran put it to me, perhaps the last connection to the golden age of Robin Day, Alastair Burnett or Brian Walden, of journalists with wide interests but a specific talent for spotting the pertinent question.
The hour is up quickly. Everyone relaxes. There’s a five-minute pause to see if the thing has actually recorded or will have to be done again.
The best bit of the evening comes if the host stays for dinner afterwards. One of the genuine treats of my career was an appearance on Question Time in Dundee, not for the recording itself (I was cruelly described as being dressed like an elderly laird) but the journey home on the overnight train, which carries several very drunk oil-rig workers.
I got a chance to chat about religion and history with Dimbleby over whisky. And as I made my way to my compartment, thrown from side to side by the ancient engine and the discombobulation of drink, it occurred to me that the most rewarding thing about the show wasn’t meeting the powerful or getting my mug on telly, but the chance to talk with such an experienced and talented professional.