The Yoko Ono mystery - 7 billion people on the planet, yet the media keep recycling the same old bores

I was aware of a familiar annoying voice twittering away on Woman’s Hour this morning (I was making a cup tea, not listening to the programme, you understand). It turned out to be Okay Yoni (as Private Eye used to call her). Guess what she was talking about? What’s that? You haven’t got a clue? Prepare to be amazed. She was talking about... JOHN LENNON! No, really – she was!

Apparently, the universally beloved Japanese concept artist and renowned songstress is about to curate the Meltdown Festival in London. (No, I don’t have a clue what that means either.) To prove that she isn’t vampirically feeding off her dead husband’s reputation in order to scavenge a few more precious moments in the public eye, Ms Ono has arranged for the festival to end with a live performance of Lennon’s anodyne last album, Double Fantasy (don’t get caught in the stampede for tickets).

Why are we still being subjected to this ghastly old bint? My wife made the point that, despite the fact that there are seven billion human beings alive today, there appears to a finite – and tiny – number of available “celebrities” available for interview. Given that none of us has ever heard of 90% of the nonentities that appear on “reality” TV shows and the BBC’s penchant for recycling the same tired old faces (and voices) again and again, Mrs. G may well be right.

The next time you switch on the TV to be confronted by the sight of that dreadful old boot Germaine Greer talking tripe, ask yourself why anyone thought it would be a good idea to invite her on. I presume she appeals to left-wing wimmin over the age of 60 and a handful of young socialists (a group which includes all BBC current affairs producers) because she can’t open her mouth without uttering some tediously predictable contrarian opinion designed to épater la bourgeoisie (as if we haven’t been sufficiently épated by now). But as for rest of us (that would be around 80% of the adult population) are concerned, we’ve had enough of her – in fact, we had enough of her about 40 years ago. As for Yoko, she started getting on our nerves in 1967 when the emotionally crippled and drug-befuddled Lennon first allowed her into his life.

The other day my lunch was spoiled by the appearance of caravan enthusiast Margaret Beckett on some political talk how or other. Margaret Beckett! How desperate and sad is that?

Eventually, of course, these oldsters disappear off the scene for a variety of reasons - including, of course, waning mental powers, death, and, increasingly, arrest for sexual offences against children. But chronic over-exposure, a complete lack of talent, irrelevance, predictability and being cosmically boring are never an excuse – as far as our broadcasters are concerned – for not foisting these boring old fossils on the viewing public.

The problem is that programme editors are risk-averse – for the very simple reason that producing a dull show never got anyone sacked as long the guests have been used a thousand times before. It’s when a newbie doesn’t work out that you get into “brave decision” territory and a new career at BBC Radio Auchtermuchty beckons.

I once had the honour of editing an obscure four-times-a-week political talk show on BBC Two. As we took to the air just after Newsnight (great scheduling) our remit was to find unknown guests – i.e. dreadful bores like Tony Benn and Roy Hattersley were never invited on. Of course many of the guests turned out to be useless once the cameras started rolling (female Labour parliamentary candidates, in particular, were as intellectually lively as speak-your-weight machines), but at least half the newbies turned out to be perfectly acceptable, and a handful were simply outstanding. We had an average audience of 250,000 per night (500,000 if we were on after the snooker) but, unfortunately, other BBC current affairs producers seemed to have better things to do than check out new talent, because we only got two calls in two years from mainstream programmes asking for recommendations for new faces. When you’re churning out this stuff on a daily basis, the temptation to go for the safe but dull option tends to be overwhelming.

I presume another reason for the likes of Ms Ono and Ms Greer appearing on our screen so often despite general indifference - or outright hostility - is that they represent the Sixties, and young lefties are obsessed by the decade that brought us anti-American riots, drugs, free love, revolution, people saying fuck on TV and disrespect for authority. Bliss was it in that very dawn etc.

The other problem is that the relationship between current affairs producers and regular guests rapidly deteriorates into politico-media elite cosiness. A friend of mine once went for a job Radio 4’s The World at One. He was invited to sit in on a pre-recorded interview for that day’s programme featuring the aforementioned Roy Hattersley. As the fat man spluttered to a halt, the item producer clicked his stopwatch, grunted in satisfaction and said, “What a pro!” My friend just managed not to voice his own opinion, which was “What a c***!”