Sometime during the night as I lay listening to the radio there was a report on a current fracas in the world of snooker. I should make clear immediately that snooker barely impinges on my consciousness but even so this had wider implications. Apparently, there is a rift between some of the traditionalists and the new, modern, 'with it whizzeroo' who runs the game these days. He, apparently, wants to 'jazz' the whole thing up with quicker games and much more audience participation (dread words!) Actually, I do have fond memories of years ago when snooker first made it on to television and I must say it was highlyenjoyable. The working-class lads who rose from the smokey billiard halls of their local towns always dressed and behaved like gentlemen. The audience maintained a reverential silence between shots and then applauded enthusiastically as a particularly tricky shot was successful. It was quiet, it was restrained, it was at times intensely exciting, and I enjoyed it immensely. Now, apparently, we are to have audiences whooping and hollering, American style, with time-limited games, or something of that nature.
It reminded me of other games which have succumbed to the drunks, the out-of-season 'footie' fans, the screeching 'wimmin' and the general 'X-Factor' crowd. Cricket, for example. I remember years ago a joke on The Goon Show (I think) when the announcer came on with his BBC voice and said "Now we take you over to Lords for news of the cricket" and all you could hear were some gentle snores. I also remember the occasional County match at Guildford where four men and a dog was considered a big turnout for a 4-day County match. Since moving down here to the south west I have been tempted to try Taunton for a County match but the baying mob I have seen on the 'telly' at the one-day 'rounders' match they seem to play these days has quite put me off.
In a different field, I recall the awards ceremonies that were held every year in the south west edge of London where my theatre group was located. When they first began it was all very 'black tie', polite, pleasant and restrained. The last one I went to a few years back was ghastly as supporters of this or that nominee or prize winner stood up and started whistling and screeching and whooping and hollering. I never went to another one!
Oh dear, yes, I know, I know, I'm sounding like a boring old fart but the fact is that I yearn for that old British, or to be precise, English, restraint. Where the hell did it go?
I think that the moment when British restraint went can be dated back to the death of Princess Diana.
The reaction to her death was the triumph of emotion over decorum.
Posted by: MarkyMark | Monday, 12 December 2011 at 08:35
Oh God, Marky, I thought - I hoped - I had forgotten that sob-fest!
Posted by: David Duff | Monday, 12 December 2011 at 10:00
Cheer up. Listen to this restrained tribute to Bix - a thing of rare beauty.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpIZde7lVoY&feature=related
Posted by: dearieme | Monday, 12 December 2011 at 12:31
Y'all need come over and attend a Hootenanay Funeral.
Posted by: JK | Monday, 12 December 2011 at 12:45