Good to talk?

‘It’s good to talk’ was the tagline (spoken by Bob Hoskins) of a very successful 1994 BT advertising campaign. Both the phrase and the practise are extremely popular today.

Confession, they say, is good for the soul. A problem shared is a problem halved. In the Catholic tradition confession is private and prayerful. The confessant can remain anonymous as he whispers his sins of commission and omission to the priest, before receiving absolution and penance. I remember a priest telling a story of a man of over twenty stone going to confession. When he came out a friend asked him, how do you feel now? “As light as a feather,” said the man.

These days most confessions tend to be a lot less private and prayerful. People confess on prime time TV, social media, and write confessional books that sell millions of copies. How this practise affects the soul of those involved is a moot point, but it can work wonders for many a bank balance and social media ‘likes’, as the private lives of the great and the good (or the good the bad and the ugly), and indeed Joe Soap, are served up for public consumption.

There was a time when television news was a kind of public service broadcasting separate from the regular TV programmes. It was a solemn and serious affair, usually delivered by a single newscaster and more concerned with informing rather than entertaining the viewers.

All that changed in the late 1980s with the arrival of Rupert Murdoch’s 24 hour Sky News channel. Murdoch was in the entertainment business. News was no longer just about information, from now on it was infotainment.

What qualified as news was expanded to include stories about celebrities going into rehab and Royals whose marriages might be in trouble.

Stories were sensationalised, sometimes into soap operas and then unpacked by experts, that is, talking heads who all had their own turf – celebrity gossip, the Arts, sport, the Royals. News became big business and more news channels followed.

Traditionally, the philosophy of Royals dealing with news and print journalism was simple, “Never complain – never explain”. Of course that approach is as dead as the Dodo since the then Prince Charles and Lady Di gave interviews about their failed marriage.

And the soap opera continues with the publication and promotion of Prince Harry’s book ‘Spare’. Anyone who is so inclined (and I am happy to say that I am not) could spend hours or even days watching clips of news programmes from around the world tackling this story from every conceivable angle. And everybody makes money – Harry, his publisher, the news networks. It might not be good but it’s certainly profitable.

And let’s not forget the advent of the car-crash interview, which always gives rise to numerous other interviews with talking heads discussing the original event. It’s hard to find a better example of the species than Andrew’s catastrophic encounter with Emily Maitlis. Someone had obviously convinced embattled Andy that it was good to talk.

He’d have been far safer following the advice of an older sage, “Better to stay quiet and be thought a fool (or criminal) than to speak and remove all possible doubt.”

Actually, there are quite a few sayings that caution against talking too much. ‘Loose lips sink ships’. ‘Careless talk costs lives’, and livelihoods in these hypersensitive times we live in.

Sometimes I want to escape the modern cacophony of too many voices. Even sporting events are tainted by them. It used to be there was one commentator at a football match. But now his attention is divided between the match and having to listen to some co-commentator or pundit.

It’s not an improvement because it divides his attention, so that it’s more difficult to focus on whatever he’s watching and there’s usually less excitement. Who can forget the passionate words of Harry Carpenter from the 1974 Ali- Foreman Rumble in the Jungle: “OH MY GOD! he’s won the title back at 32! Muhammad Ali!” Or the legendary Michael O’Hehir at the 1977 classic All-Ireland football semi-final between Dublin and Kerry, “Twenty-nine minutes still remaining in this game. Hallelujah!” Would we have got that with Eamonn Fitzmaurice droning on and on as expert co-commentator? And of course the piece de resistance from Sid Waddell, “There’s only one word for that – great darts!”

Last Friday night I started to watch a programme featuring the top ‘Hits of the Seventies’. I was looking forward to enjoying some pop songs from my youth. They had not changed with the passage of time, but I sure have. What a disappointment! You’d hear a few bars of a song and then cut to some talking head. Like the 1973 number one, ‘Tie a yellow ribbon’ by Dawn and Tony Orlando, a jaunty little sing-along. They played the opening beat and a few lines from the song but it cut to someone telling us, “He was coming home from prison and the audience were waiting to see if there was a yellow ribbon out to welcome him home and you couldn’t help but sing along… blah, blah, blah” We know that! Shut up and let me hear the song, why don’t you! Remote control – TV off. Goodnight!

Good to talk? Yes, sometimes. But it’s good to know when NOT to talk as well!!