I think I’ve wibbled on this point before, but I’m not keen on programmes that carelessly lose presenters then have a series of guest ones. It’s feels like having multiple foster parents to me. Even though the idea of the delightfully barking Simon Amstell as a ‘parent’ is patently ridiculous. Non-regular hosts make me feel insecure. Even the capable hands of Jack Dee could not contain the hyperactive, narcissistic, attention seeking idiocy of Jedward, which felt like a show where the lunatics had bought the asylum as a theme park.
So, despite my enduring love for the adorable Noel Fielding, when I saw that Terry Wogan was going to be hosting Never Mind the Buzzcocks, I almost didn’t bother watching. I guess, partly I feared it might be sentimental and a bit schmaltzy, but I was wrong.
It was a terrifically funny, silly show that swiftly descended into pure filth and remained joyously in the gutter for an entire splendid thirty minutes. It was like unexpectedly seeing your headteacher off duty and off his tits, telling blue jokes at a wedding. Not that Sir Terry has not been known for naughty mischief in the past especially hosting the Eurovision Song Contest. Nor was he inebriated in any way, he just seemed de-mob happy and thoroughly enjoying the bawdy talk around him. He was also sharply and enjoyably rude about David Bowie and Chris Moyles. Continue reading