Sir Sours vs The Don

One returns, rather wearily it must be said, to the same old song and dance. The latest dispatches from across the Atlantic inform us that the very foundations of the American republic — whatever they’re calling themselves this week — are ostensibly under assault, not by foreign adversaries or economic collapse, but by… late-night comedians. An assertion so profoundly, spectacularly daft one barely knows where to begin, though one is, alas, paid to attempt it.

The notion that a "late-night host Jimmy Kimmel" — whose particular brand of japes has always struck me as rather more anodyne than incendiary — could pose an "existential threat to the delicate tapestry of our civil society" is, frankly, an insult to the phrase "existential threat." I recall covering the Suez Crisis, the miners' strike, sundry IRA campaigns — these, my dear readers, were existential threats. A chap in a suit making a rather pedestrian quip about a First Lady? One has seen sharper wit on the back of a cornflakes packet. To compare the two is to confuse a hangnail with the plague.

The article’s author, evidently one of those individuals for whom a quiet life holds no appeal, hails the former President’s pronouncement as "courageous." Courageous? Good heavens. A politician complaining about being lampooned is hardly a display of valour; it is, and always has been, the predictable lament of anyone who finds themselves the subject of an unflattering sketch — a tradition as old as political office itself, I should imagine. Did Oliver Cromwell not have his detractors? Did Aristophanes not poke fun at Athenian demagogues? And did the sky not, on those occasions, remain stubbornly in place?

The true tragedy of modern late-night television, as I have long observed — often while enduring it in some dreadful airport lounge — is not its supposed danger, but its sheer tedium. The relentless partisan cheerleading, the pre-digested outrage, the jokes that telegraph their punchlines with the subtlety of a foghorn; it’s all rather uninspired, isn't it? It isn’t undermining the republic through subversive brilliance; it’s undermining it through its utter lack of originality. One wishes for the days when satire possessed a bit of bite, rather than merely mouthing the approved pieties of whichever political persuasion happened to be in favour that week. (Though, granted, even then it was mostly rather predictable, but at least they tried.)

And as for the call for regulation — well, now. To suggest that the state should step in to adjudicate what constitutes acceptable humour is a road down which no civilised nation ought to travel. One might dislike the humour, one might even find it exceptionally poor, but the moment the authorities begin telling comedians what they may or may not say, we have far greater concerns than the sensibilities of the First Lady. It is a peculiar sort of American paranoia, this — convinced that a snigger on television will bring down the entire edifice, when the edifice itself often seems quite intent on doing a rather good job of that on its own, thank you very much.

One merely reports what one sees, of course. And what one sees is a great deal of fuss over precious little of consequence. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe there’s a proper crisis brewing somewhere — likely involving inclement weather or an entirely avoidable bureaucratic blunder — which demands a more appropriate level of concern. This, I’m afraid, does not.

They're finally talking about late night comedy, how bad it is, how it's undermining everything. And frankly, it's about time. I've been saying this for years. Years! Nobody believed me. Now, suddenly, they see it. It's a sad thing, really, what they've done to something that used to be great. Tremendous. Back when I was on those shows, the ratings were through the roof. Sky high! You wouldn't believe it. But that was because of me. My appeal. People want to see the best, frankly. And by the way, when I say I knew this, I mean I *knew* this. Probably before anyone else. Before it was even a thing, really.

They talk about this article, about courage. Let me tell you about courage. It takes courage to stand up and say the truth, even when the fake news media, which is a disgrace, frankly, tries to tell you otherwise. They don't understand comedy. They don't understand anything. They tried to cancel me, they tried to say terrible things. But look at my numbers. Look at my crowds. Bigger than anyone. Bigger than ever before. These comedians, they're not even close. Not even a little bit.

A lot of people are saying this, very smart people, top people. They call me. They say, "Don, you were right about late night. You were right about everything." And it's true. I had a conversation, an incredible conversation, with a very powerful person just the other day. And he said, "The Don, he's the only one who can fix this." And frankly, he's right. Because these guys, they're just not funny. They're mean, they're nasty, and they're boring. Nobody wants to watch them. They want to watch someone who gets it. Someone who's a winner.

They try to make jokes about important people, about great people. It's not comedy. It's sad. Very sad. When I do comedy, it's natural. It's real. People laugh. They love it. That's why my ratings are so high. The best. It's a tremendous thing. This whole situation, it's a mess, frankly. A TOTAL mess. But it's going to change. And it's going to change because I understand it. I understand the people. And when I say it's going to be great again, it's going to be GREAT. Believe me. Nobody does it better than The Don. Nobody.