Strange Thoughts of a Strange Man

The BBC are currently touting this on their website as news:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/magazine/8154200.stm

Yet again they are pointing the finger at men and labelling them as lazy, ignorant, macho idiots who don’t bother going to their GP when something is obviously wrong.

This story was “reported” a few months ago and has only resurfaced due to the recent disclosure that the footballer John Hartson has been diagnosed with advanced testicular cancer.

I have every sympathy with Hartson: he is younger than me, has to be a lot fitter and has a wife and young family. It is a tragic case and I wish him well.

I do, however, take exception to the BBC again perpetuating the myth that it is always the man’s fault that things like this are not caught in time. Reading further down the article reveals a comment that perfectly illustrates why I feel this way:

Frankly, if you're a male of working age, doctors also assume there can be little wrong with you. I asked for a general check-up when I reached 40, and as well getting a slightly frosty response, was asked "well, do YOU think there's anything wrong?" It's not embarrassment, it's being made to feel you're wasting the time of NHS staff.

I have had to make two or three trips to see one of the GPs at my surgery before I am taken seriously and have some action taken. One of my friends has had the same experience at a different surgery.

Undoubtedly there are men who do not go to the doctor because it’s not something “blokes” do but those that make the effort often feel that their GP considers them a waste of time. If you get that feeling often enough you begin to think that a visit to the GP is in itself a waste of time.

Labels: BBC, Doctor, GP, Health, Male, Men, News

Well, I was there. Honest, I was. However, when I wasn't obscured by the pillar or the curtain the back half of the box was so damned dark that I couldn't be seen.

I knew where I was and I still couldn't see me.

Labels: BBC, Maestro, TV

I don't normally make comments about TV shows*, especially ones where celebrities are pitted against each other to do something they wouldn't normally do but I am making an exception of Maestro.

This is the BBC's competition, among eight celebrities, to find a conductor for part of the Proms in the Park on the Last Night of the Proms. Each week the contestants conduct an orchestra, are awarded points by a panel of judges and the worst two are subjected to a vote in which the weakest conductor is kicked out. So far Peter Snow and David Soul have been evicted.

So, why am I writing about this?

Well, last night the remaining six conducted the orchestra and the BBC Symphony Chorus.I was there in my capacity as David's groupy. My friend Trish also came along and sat in the audience. I had a special production guest ticket and sat in a "box" but she had the better view of the proceedings. To make sense of the box reference, I should mention that the studio is laid out as a mock Royal Albert Hall with boxes around the stage where people sit. I had a curtain between me and most of the orchestra and all of the choir and a pillar between me and the conductors so I didn't see a great deal of the show but I figured it will be on television tonight in any case so I won't miss any of it.

I had a very good view of the judges (our box was right behind them) and could see behind the illusion, which is always interesting. The set is largely constructed of plywood, for instance, and there seemed to be lots of people who stayed out of shot purely by crouching down behind bits of the set, or in one case, behind the judges.

It was fascinating and great fun. I'm looking forward to watching it later to see the bits I missed and, more importantly, see if I can see myself. Hopefully, if I can, I will be looking appropriately attentive and not looking around the studio at the parts I wasn't supposed to be watching, like the members of the orchestra gathered just underneath where we were sitting or staring into the autocue, wondering why there were no words on it and then realising that I was actually staring right into one of the cameras.

* except Coronation Street, Eastenders, Doctor Who and Battlestar Galactica, of course.

Labels: BBC, Maestro, TV

No idea about what? I hear you cry.

Anything, I would answer but in this particular case I am referring to these stupid telephone voting shows: How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?, Any Dream Will Do and now I'd Do Anything. They are all shows created by the BBC to showcase revived musicals and to find girls and boys to be the lead roles.

The problem with the shows is that the Great British public decide who stays in the show and who goes. One contestant each week has to be eliminated by telephone vote. The trouble is that the public chooses people they like and not the people that are the best for the job.

A similar system is in place for the British Entry for the Eurovision Song Contest. And a similarly bad choice was made for the UK's song this year.

Of course, the reason television companies like the BBC have shows like this is that they can make a lot of money from the sheer volume of calls. They are not interested in the validity of the selections.

Labels: BBC, Eurovision, Joseph, Maria, Oliver