By Abigail Pennson, our reasonable, plain-speaking middle-class columnist slightly to the right of Hitler
IF ONLY we could go back. To who we were before the black tentacles of sexual perversion reached out from our television screens. To before Channel 4.
To before 4.45pm on November 2nd, 1982, when a devil wearing a Richard Whiteley mask tempted us, with beguiling letters and numbers, into a hell of depravity.
Channel 4’s charter was to destroy every moral, every scruple, everything decent about our country. No serious commentator can suggest otherwise. Its 40-year mission to create a nation of filthy wanking bastards is complete.
The Conservatives are doing the right thing by selling it. Too little and too late. No mere multi-million pound boost to the Treasury can restore our innocence.
The innocence of a child, lost to the paedophile extravaganza of Mini-Pops. The innocence of a curious teenager tempted by the Red Triangle, lost to explicit 1970s Japanese cinema.
The innocence of a soap opera about murders, cults, bombings and plague, lost to a pre-watershed lesbian kiss that turned an estimated two million women gay, with many of them unable to turn back.
Remember our lives before then? Before The Word corrupted a generation into coke-snorting faux-Northerners bathing in maggots? Before The Big Breakfast made 7am testicular exposure commonplace? Before Hollyoaks Late Night invented male rape?
Before series seven of Big Brother, when the freakshow of regional accents turned to live 24-hour cannibalism? Before Brass Eye killed Princess Margaret as a ‘stunt’?
Or even the present day, when Naked Attraction is inescapable? When every night genitals parade before us in the name of entertainment, pierced, multi-gender and often with as many as three dicks per man?
We can never go back. We are a nation of depraved, deviant pigs, wallowing in our own filth, begging for one more episode of Eurotrash. I haven’t had sex since 1987 without climaxing at the thought of Jools Holland saying ‘groovy fuckers’ on The Tube.
But for a new generation, there is hope. That private ownership will turn this around. That Channel 4 can become as edifying and educational as its unfettered neighbour, Channel 5.
It’s too late for me. I’m drowning in metaphorical effluent and can’t wait for the next Open House: The Great Sex Experiment. You must save yourselves.