Bob, Rob and Another BBC Cock-Up

This would never have happened in my day (which, for those of you not paying attention, was the 1980s. The sooner our dear Editor pulls his finger out and puts up the bios page the better). Here we see tax-payer-funded all-round business twonk Rory Cellan-Jones gormlessly swallowing a bucketful of steaming s— from Rob f—ing Enderle — the shill who just keeps on shilling. I’m sorry, but f— me, what the hell is wrong with the Beeb? I may be viewing things thought rose-tinted spectacles — although consulting a mirror I see that my eyes are a little bloodshot this morning, which might explain it — but I swear I remember a time when c— like this would never have been allowed out under the label of “journalism.” Of course, back then they let proper computer journos loose at prime time. Men like Fred Harris.

Fred and I go way back, even before my brief stint on Micro Live. I have a feeling he may even have been instrumental in getting me the gig, although considering what an almighty balls-up it turned into it’s understandable that he keeps a bit quiet about it. Fred was a proper techie. Loved the industry. I remember this one time, he was booked to speak at this Apricot sales event when the overhead broke. Took them a couple of hours to fix. He kept the reps mesmerised for the whole time, telling them stories about the filthy things he and Floella Benjamin got up to on the set of Playschool. Can’t see any of the current lot doing that. I hear even the crazy drunk tramp who wonders around White City with his knob hanging out crosses the road when he sees Cellan-Jones coming. They don’t make them like Fred any more. Poor sod’s currently working in a cupboard for the BFB. How the might are fallen and so on.

But my point is, if the Beeb were to hire the occasional proper tech journalist — and not just dole these stories out to whichever Classics graduate is at a loose end because they’re too dense to get their head around even Peston-level kindergarten economics — they wouldn’t expose themselves to this kind of ridicule. For a start, no-one with network savvy greater than that of a lobotomised baboon could have failed to Google Rob f—ing Enderle and instantly seen what kind of mouth-for-hire gobshite he is. If Fred had interviewed Rob Enderle — which he wouldn’t, unless whichever teenage Humanities graduate who was his boss that day had insisted on it — and Rob had said “this is a big leap forward” immediately followed by “this is what we call a maintenance release” Fred would have instantly pointed out that he’s talking s— and contradicting himself. At which point Enderle would probably have started crying.

If Fred Harris had been sent to report on Windows 7, he would have filled his allotted 90 seconds with talk of security features, animation layers and improvements to the kernel. None of this “it will deliver a better experience for users” press release regurgitation. No “look! you can drag windows around with your finger!” twaddle. We would have been told some facts and been made to think. And that kind of thing scares your modern BBC News Manager s—less.

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• Mac Daily News