It is a sad symptom of the culture and time we live in that sooner or later, we will all have to come to terms with our favourite TV show being cancelled. (Unless your favourite show is X Factor).
Well, my personal time of mourning has come, following the BBC’s announcement that they are pulling the previously immortal panel extravaganza Never Mind the Buzzcocks from their timetable. After 28 series and a smorgasbord of hosts with varying degrees of competence and sobriety, this came as quite a shock to me, a self-confessed, diehard fan of the show since I was old enough to understand satire. However, after a few tear soaked days of sobbing into a framed portrait of Phil Jupitus, I realised that perhaps it was actually for the best. In the way an elderly, suffering pet is taken to the vet to be put down, the end of Buzzcocks was probably timely, as it has lately ceased to be the lively, wet-nosed, razor sharp show of its former years.
Rhod Gilbert, God love him and his unnecessarily loud, implausibly gruff and gratuitously aggressive presenting style has, I feel, only provided the hammer for the final nails in the coffin. The second phase of guest presenters following Simon Amstell’s departure did still provide its fair share of iconic moments… Of course we all remember Huey Morgan, Rizzle Kicks and the mug right??
Or the iconic moment Michael Boulton sang about anal danger? I mean, what a classic…
Maybe not then.
For me, the show died its true death as Simon Amstell’s buoyant curls and jumble-sale cardigans exited Stage Left. I may be biased as a lifelong fan of his, but Simon’s almost inhumanly sharp wit and stinging put-downs made the show, for me anyway, knuckle-bitingly hilarious and breathed fresh life into an otherwise tired format.
Perhaps my reactionary grief at the departure of NMTB was unfounded. Few shows have regenerated the way it has, rising from the ashes of every previous series with renewed relevance, edge and ideas, but if that ability has recently faded, maybe it is better to fade away completely.
However, this regeneration and innovation is not how I will fondly remember the show. Instead, the cherished Buzzcocks rhetoric for me will always feature the fluttering anticipation of the ‘Intro’s Round’, desperately replaying the guests’ screeching interpretations in my head in the hope of guessing before any viewing companions, the brilliant quips and wordplay of the ‘Identity Parade’, and the time-honoured, reliable moment of every show where a guest forgets the lyrics to their own song.
Never Mind the Buzzcocks, for at least 26 of 28 series, was everything a good TV show should be – pioneering, progressive and edgy, but never losing that which incurred its popularity in the first place. A decorated Shangri La of madness and mayhem, anchored by its iconic, familiar formatting. For this reason, I believe there will be a hole left in the television schedule that is impossible to fill now Buzzcocks has finally hung up its glitter-spangled, threadbare, thick soled boots on the peg of panel show history.
NMTB – RIP.