I dunno what’s worse, the BBC ‘fixing’ the audiences of Question Time in Scotland, or the BBC expecting its viewing audience no’ tae notice that they ‘fix’ the audiences of Question Time in Scotland.
I thought the programme a while back from Dundee could not be beaten for demonstrable contrived heavily weighted and biased political theatre (clearly I and many others hadn’t the first clue that Dundee was actually a strong Tory hotbed, belying its voting record, so much so that nobody there actually seemed to speak with a recognisably Dundonian accent, who knew?) but last night’s effort from Motherwell took the digestive and a whole packet of jammy dodgers.
Clearly the fine people of the former steel town have forgiven ex-Tory poster boy and Thatcher acolyte, sook and lickspittle Michael Forsyth (for our younger readers he was to Margaret Thatcher what Ross Thomson, prior to his seven too many gin and tonics this week, was to Boris Johnson’s inflated ego, only more so, if that is possible). Ach it was only a couple of big chimneys, some factories and the odd ruined life here and there, let bygones be bygones eh. Very magnanimous of them, particularly too considering, like Dundee, their voting record.
Then there was the revolving, revolting, re-appearance in the audience of the wandering Orangeman and failed UKIP politician Billy McBilly. Incredible! The man has a season ticket for this show. There are over five million people in Scotland yet this geezer has been on Question Time more times than the SNP in the last couple of years, and gets to ask a question on every occasion, well no’ so much a question more an angry ranting statement, at the end of which you can almost sense his colonic rage at not being able to sign off with the phrase “No Surrender”. For a bit of variety he’s bringing his drum the next time.
The BBC are getting to the point now where they are not even trying to mask their British nationalist propaganda. It’s pretty desperate stuff.
Thankfully more of our fellow Scots are getting wise to this nonsense . Seriously, if you can’t see it, you’re not looking with your eyes or listening with your ears, you’re walking around in a cosy ‘Great British’ daze.