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The SR appeal
Drawing by Bob Smith
Kenneth Roy
Previously on ‘Entwistle’...
There is no previous. Your name is George Entwistle, and it is your good fortune that very few people have heard of you until recently. But you are now about to become famous as the eponymous hero of ‘Entwistle’, a BBC far from classic serial.
In last week’s episode of ‘Entwistle’…
You are attending a reception in the London Hilton (Park Lane), as people of your importance do. Someone called the director of news comes up to you and announces: ‘We’re looking into Jimmy Savile’. Not literally, of course: he’s in his plot in Scarborough with a nice view of the sea.
‘Thanks for letting me know’, you say, and return to your office thinking no more about it. It so happens, however, that as head of vision – that was your title then, if you remember, which you may not – you are responsible for tribute programmes about Jimmy Savile – ‘Sir Jimmy’ as he is affectionately known. Inconveniently for you, these programmes are about to be broadcast at Christmas, when everything closes down and your viewers are forced to watch a lot of meaningless stuff about dead disc jockeys.
What do you do? If your name is George Entwistle, and you may remember that it is, the answer seems to be: not a lot. Do you put through a call to the director of news and inquire gently about the nature of this looking-into? Ah, no. That could be construed as ‘undue interest’. Likewise, it never occurs to you in the dark stretches of the night to wonder whether this looking-into in which you are anxious to show no undue interest might in some way compromise your tribute programmes. Your name is George Entwistle after all, and you are proud of being the world’s least curious journalist.
At the same time – coincidentally – strange things are happening in the offices of your little-watched flagship current affairs programme Newsnight. The editor, a Mr Rippon, whose staff are the ones ‘looking into’ Sir Jimmy, indeed they are at an advanced stage of compiling an indictment of the charity fund-raiser and serial rapist of children, moves in 13 days from a position of ‘Excellent, go with it’ to ‘Drop it like the proverbial hot potato’. But you know nothing of this. Mr Rippon is on his own here, and by the way you’re likely to the next director-general of the BBC, so that’s good news.
The episode ends with ironical footage of weeping middle-aged women at the lying-in-state of Sir Jammy. Of course no one knew it was ironical at the time. The irony came later. That’s what makes it so ironical.
In this week’s episode of ‘Entwistle’…
It’s a year later. You’re now George Entwistle, DG, and appearing before a select committee of the House of Commons. You’re sipping water from a horrible plastic cup, stuttering a bit, a little tetchy perhaps, and not cutting the most impressive figure ever to face the mother of parliaments. You’re finding it difficult to recall much about the meeting with the director of news. You’re not even sure how long the conversation lasted. Your recollection of the occasion is so poor that a Labour MP delivers the ultimate insult: you remind him of James Murdoch. Cue sinister background music.
Recovering a little, you are inclined to blame it all on Mr Rippon, uttering your most memorable line of the episode: ‘We’ve got to get to the bottom of what was going through his mind’. Isn’t that hanging Mr Rippon out to dry?, you’re asked. As the late Eric would say: there’s no answer to that.
You’re aware that the reporter who was doing the actual looking-into, Liz MacKean, believed that her programme editor was ‘feeling the heat’. You’re also aware that she wasn’t talking about that malfunctioning BBC radiator in the corner. She was talking about pressure from above. But you’re on the record now. You’ve told the select committee that no management pressure was brought to bear on Mr Rippon to kill the investigation.
By the way you can watch this gripping episode again on bbciplayer.
In next week’s episode of ‘Entwistle’…
They’re still working on the storyline. Some old hands in the script-writing business believe that the plot is stretching credulity.
Meanwhile the BBC has dropped the knighthood for Savile in some of its reports – he is now known in places as ‘Mr Savile’ – and the number of BBC persons, past or present, who are the subject of ‘serious allegations’ varies from ‘five to 10’ to ‘eight to 10’. Would that be nine, then?
The first BBC headline after its director-general’s woeful account of himself was ‘Entwistle defends’. Several hours later it was ‘Entwistle regrets’. The BBC continues to make it up as it goes along.
Mr Entwistle had an opportunity to show some humility. He didn’t. He told the select committee that he had not failed personally, but that ‘the system as a whole doesn’t seem to have got this right’ – a feeble cop-out and not even an unqualified admission that the system had got it disastrously wrong.
He had a duty to be utterly transparent. He wasn’t.
Above all else, he needed to give a satisfactory answer to the question of why he went ahead with the eulogies when he knew perfectly well that Savile was under investigation. There was no satisfactory answer.
Mr Entwistle clings to office waiting for the denouement. It’s unlikely to be a happy one.
Kenneth Roy is editor of the Scottish Review
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