On Thursday night, I appeared on BBC’s Question Time and made a contribution towards the end of the show, suggesting that parliamentary power is not the only means of having a political impact. The clip caused a bit of a stir online, and I have since been inundated with both support and abuse (some funny and some unsettling). There have also been some interesting things written about me which are blatantly not true. So, for the record, I am 26, live in London but grew up in Shropshire; I didn’t attend private school; my parents certainly do not own a house in the Dordogne (as far as I know!); I work in the charity sector and in my spare time I am studying for an MA in Critical and Cultural Theory. The most jarring piece of misinformation came from professional ‘controversial opinion haver’ and Humpty-Dumpty doppelganger Toby Young who, in a now-deleted tweet, called me a “Labour Plant,” a sentiment echoed by many others on social media. I rebutted this by stating that I pretended to be Tory during the application process, which is true. However, this in turn dialled the conspiratorial antipathy that many feel towards Question Time to another level — “this proves that the audiences are rigged etc.” Squawkbox’ piece no doubt contributed to this. Here, I hope to address some of the myths surrounding Question Time, at least from my perspective as somebody who has been through the process.
BBC Question Time holds a curious place in the political consciousness of the country. Apparently, as Fiona Bruce told us before filming, it has the 2nd highest social media engagement rate of any TV show in the UK (after Love Island). Yet, for the most part, it is a painfully boring show. Politicians rarely answer questions comprehensively, questions or statements from the audience are often recycled from that week’s newspaper columns and breakfast shows. We rarely hear anything new. We are rarely satisfied with the answers given. We often know before the show is broadcast the panellists with which we will and won’t agree. People at home in front of the TV, or on twitter, grumble, swear, and vent spleen at the guests and audience members. Many across the political spectrum now refuse to watch; the left accuses the BBC of right-wing bias, the right accuses it of being infiltrated with commies. Brexiteers and Remainers are equally as disgruntled and many glib ‘centrists’ like to argue that “something that pisses everyone off is surely doing something right…right?” These people have clearly never had thrush. Many audience contributors are accused of being plants, carefully coordinated political stooges, eagerly awaiting Fiona Bruce’s furrowed brow of approval before the cameras and microphones approach to broadcast our propaganda to the masses. This is, at least in my case, nonsense, but it gives a sense of the total disillusionment many feel towards the show. And yet, lots do still tune in, as if they are waiting for one explosive moment to rupture the tedium and change everything.
Last week, that happened when “Lewis star” Laurence Fox appeared on the show. Having no idea who he was, I assumed Lewis was some gritty HBO drama, not an ITV Morse spin-off. Fox, according to IMDB, plays Morse’s assistant’s assistant, and is also a budding singer-songwriter (check out his music here). All good stuff, I thought, but it did seem like a rather left-field choice. Now, a lot has been said and written about Fox’s comments on the show, and I’m not sure I need to add to them, or give further exposure to ideas from somebody who is so clearly out of their depth. However, we do need to question the rapidity of his ‘rise’ from “budding singer-songwriter/Poundland John Nettles” to so-called champion of the “anti-woke” brigade (where “woke”, as far as I can tell, has now been appropriated by the right as a pejorative term for any person who believes we should treat people and the environment with respect).
Within days of appearing on Question Time, Mr Fox, had been wheeled out on all the usual channels: interviews with Piers Morgan and Julia Hartley-Brewer were arranged at pace, as were opinion pieces in major national broadsheet and national papers. He also accrued tens of thousands of followers on Twitter to whom he could disseminate his undoubtedly provocative, if historically spurious, opinions. Question Time functioned as the launch pad for his new career as right-wing darling and added to the mysteriousness and mythology surrounding the programme. From cursory conversations with friends in the industry, it appears that Fox’s opinions and demeanour on the show were not out of character, so it seems far-fetched to suggest that producers were oblivious to his opinions and had ‘no idea what he was going to say’, as Fiona Bruce told the audience members before the show. They perhaps didn’t know the exact comments he’d make, but they almost certainly knew the platform he would occupy and the agenda he would push.
It is because of Fox that I decided to apply, more out of curiosity than anything else. I wanted to find out if ‘plants’ are used. Is the application process rigged? Do they cut any audience contributions? Will somebody say something controversial? Will a councillor be lurking somewhere waiting to receive WhatsApp messages from Cummings or Milne? I submitted the requisite application form on the Tuesday before the show, thinking it odd that they were still recruiting audience members this late. I had applied, unsuccessfully, a few years ago; this time, on a whim, I thought I would try pretending to be a Tory voter. I was phoned the following morning by somebody from ‘Full House Audience Management’, the company that the BBC outsources the task of selecting its audiences. I was asked to confirm how I voted in the election, the EU referendum, my reasons for doing so and what topics I wanted to discuss on the show. The conversation lasted around four minutes and I vaguely remember talking about Meghan and Harry whilst trying not to burst out laughing. They asked if I used social media. I said no — fortunately none of my social media accounts are linked to the email I provided, or display my full name. I was told at the end of the phone-call that I had a place and an email ticket arrived within minutes. Later that day I received an informative email in which EVERY SINGLE AUDIENCE MEMBER’S EMAILS WERE CC’D, NOT BCC’D, IN. I would post a screenshot, but I am, unlike ‘Full House Audience Management’, an avid fan of GDPR compliance. I am not sure whether this data breach was illegal, but it is extremely worrying that a programme so politically divisive would be so lax on data protection, regardless of whether this particular element of the show is outsourced. I strongly urge them to look into this.
Initially we were informed about four of the panellists: Teresa Villiers, Emily Thornberry, Trevor Phillips and Mike Barton. The final panellist was confirmed later, and it turned out to be a painfully bland Times journalist whose name and every single contribution I’ve now forgotten. One wonders whether, following the controversy of the previous week’s show, an innocuous and lacklustre panel was assembled deliberately, or if it was an unfortunate coincidence. We were told to bring questions with us, along with ID, and arrive at the venue between 6pm and 6.30pm. We were checked by security and led to a holding area while the set was prepared. We wrote down our questions on cards which were submitted to the producers who would then select which questions would be put to the panel. While there is undoubtedly strong editorial involvement in this regard, I can categorically say that people were not told what questions to ask. Somebody I had been chatting to before the show was selected. Obviously, the producers want ‘provocative’ questions; they specifically ask for this in their email correspondence. Fiona Bruce spoke to us briefly, giving a pep talk and answering any questions people had:
— Who selects the questions?
The producers.
— Will it be edited?
Only if somebody swears, makes obscene gestures or remarks, or says something libellous.
— How do we make a contribution?
Keep your hand raised until Fiona points to you and asks you to speak.
We were then asked to head down to the set. The seats are not ticketed and there is a bit of a scramble as people try to secure the prime spots. The audience manager then leads a warm-up session to test the cameras and mics, and give us a feel for the set up. Five audience members are asked to ‘be’ the panellists and we had informal debates on non-political issues (sport on TV, phones in schools…).
There is a lot of ‘banter’.
I decided to contribute, to understand what it felt like talking to a room of 150 people with cameras and microphones on. I hadn’t gone on to the show with a specific agenda to contribute, but I am also aware that I am politically outspoken and sometimes find it hard to hold back. Knowing that there was every chance I would “pipe up”, I thought I’d test the water. If you do ever want to go on Question Time to make a specific point, I would recommend contributing in the warm-ups.
The show was filmed between approximately 8–9 o’clock and then quickly edited before being aired. As far as I can remember there were no edits on our show. Throughout, while panellists were talking, Fiona Bruce was constantly scanning the audience and looking for people to contribute. She will point at camera and microphone operators signalling to them which person to approach. Regardless of her verbal contributions, I was actually impressed by the skill required to do this, keeping the debates going whilst directing the show off-camera.
My instinct tells me that if you really want to make a contribution to the show, you can, if you are willing to be patient. My hand was raised for around two minutes before Fiona Bruce came to me and asked for my contribution. I think this perhaps explains why people sometimes look like plants. If a Labour or Tory supporter gets a ticket to the show and thinks, “this is my chance, I need to say something” they could easily prepare a little something. If they kept their hand raised confidently for several minutes, they would almost certainly get selected. It is the people who want to make direct responses to panellists’ comments which are likely to either get missed (because if they aren’t selected by Fiona immediately and they lower their hands she presumes they no longer want to contribute) or they are more likely to ‘fluff’ their contribution. Words cannot describe how nerve-wracking it is to speak in front of cameras, a room of politically engaged people, powerful politicians, journalists and millions of people at home. It is even harder to contribute with any spontaneity and authenticity. (I have recently discovered that ‘actually’ is one of my crutch words.) Throughout most of my contribution I was actually thinking “fuck I’m on TV, what am I even saying, somebody has turned around, are they scowling at me, did I actually just say ‘actually’ again, where is this going?”
Now. Was it right to lie to get onto the show? I don’t know. But, 88% of Tory adverts during the election were either false or misleading, so I’m using that as my justification for the time being. Does it prove that the audience is rigged? Not as such. I did meet people who were honest and said they were Labour voters and were asked to come on the show, and in true naughty schoolboy style, I would like to point out that I also met fellow imposters. I am inclined to think that this thing happens a lot from both sides. Was the crowd weighted in favour of a particular political opinion? I would say yes. It is incredibly hard to gauge the political opinion of a crowd in such a staged and ostensibly civilised setting, but I felt it leant more conservatively than progressively. It may have represented the country, but it certainly did not represent Stoke Newington. The BBC claims that they want to create audiences which reflect national opinion, but this attempt to homogenise audiences neglects just how geographically the country is divided on politics. I would prefer audiences which reflect different local opinions, even if more shows were overtly right or left wing, than a bland homogenised right-leaning audience every week. I would also say that, Question Time crowds, like all crowds, are completely illogical, contradictory, emotional bodies which respond in inconsistent ways. You will see people clap directly contradictory contributions during a show, often in response to the strength of delivery of the closing few words of a comment.
Finally, I have had a lot of questions about my contribution and what I am actually proposing. I think it will take more than just a couple of sentences to explain, so I will write another piece. But, I would argue that resistance has to start locally and it has to start peacefully. Million-strong marches in the capital exclude far more people than they include. Furthermore, if you are going to be disruptive, you can’t be seen to be taking things away from people. People voted for Brexit and I respect that. People voted for the Conservatives, and I understand many of the reasons they chose to do so. But I don’t think people voted for their local A & E to be closed, for their schools to be underfunded, for the minimum wage increase to be delayed by years, for fracking near their villages, for delayed trains, for cuts to youth services, for parks to close… These are the sites of resistance and the causes that will inspire people to join you. Many, many local protests with tangible, immediate concerns can snowball into something much bigger.
In solidarity.
