The fairground attendant has stepped off the carousel. Amol Rajan, with all his honours on, is standing down from Radio 4’s Today programme, the breakfast show that sends us out into the world feeling a little bit braver, to set up his own company. What took him so long?
Many listeners may think he established that business many moons ago, for Rajan Enterprises (Me Me Me) is not exactly a secret in metropolitan media world. In the past two decades the Cambridge-educated south Londoner has plucked some of the juiciest plums in the journalists’ orchard. Editor of the Independent, BBC media editor, and for the past five years a Today host. Presenting University Challenge on BBC2 is a mere bagatelle to pay a few bills.
Talented as he is – and it would be unfair to deny he has a demotic ease – there is something of the merry-go-round about Rajan. The rings, the chain round the neck, the bluster. Short of shouting ‘have a shy at my lovely coconuts’ he could not have done much more to reshape the tone of Today, which sounds at times like an adolescent glee club.
Do we really want to hear so self-consciously matey a voice while we are buttering our toast, or giggling at one of Matt’s cartoons? Not really. Rajan, considered a breath of fresh air by his bosses within the corporation (he is youngish), was really a square peg in a round hole.
A programme like Today needs eager puppies less than old dogs, suspicious of new tricks. There was always the occasional smart aleck. Brian ‘Big Head’ Redhead could be insufferable, on set and off. Once, when he was enjoying a drink with Alastair Cooke, a fan approached the Letter from America man for an autograph. Redhead, naturally, obliged.
Nobody has accused Rajan of being so tone-deaf. But other bigwigs on the programme are less shy. One presenter, asked out for a coffee by a colleague to discuss matters relating, fished out his diary and offered the junior a date two weeks hence. Such are the perils of kingship.
Programmes like Today have a certain character, which listeners instinctively understand, and which it is wise not to disrupt. It has a tone, of voice and mood, that can easily be disturbed if producers are not careful. John Humphrys, a sceptical Welshman, and Jim Naughtie, a lyrical Scot, were absorbed comfortably. Rajan may be more familiar with hip-hop, but that is part of the problem. Today listeners want to work their way into the day less frenetically. The emphasis on popular culture seems unnatural.
Talented as he is – and it would be unfair to deny he has a demotic ease – there is something of the merry-go-round about Rajan
There is always room for other voices. Mishal Husain, who left a year ago, is a big loss. She spoke well – rather too well for the BBC’s army of social engineers – and never went in for the preening and capering that ‘the talent’ take as their birthright. Someone took their eyes off the ball with her departure.
Justin Webb fights the good fight. He has the measure of his brief, and his light touch is neither obsequious nor flippant. He is a proper public service broadcaster. Nick Robinson is rigorous, as one would expect of a former political editor. But he is far too pleased with himself, and the football team he supports. He has entertained us long enough.
Rajan will prosper, wherever the road leads him. He is bright, ambitious, and well connected. He would not be leaving Today unless he had lined up all his circus animals. He could do us all a big favour, though. Can he take Emma Barnett with him?
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