We Are Allowed To Bleed You Dry, We Are The BBC
British
Broadcasting Corporation is funded in a totally unique way. This is
part of the prattle from one of the adverts that fills the supposedly
advert free BBC. It may well be unique but it is, in fact, just tax
payers money. To indulge the pleasure of watching the idiot box in
Britain you are required by law to purchase a licence. The money
raised from said licence goes to the BBC who then spend it on
massively overproduced adverts telling the viewer how fucking
wonderful the BBC is and how lucky we are to have them.
It
is not like we have a choice in the matter. Anyone owning equipment
capable of receiving television broadcasts, including computer video
cards with built in tuner, is required by the 1904 Wireless
Telegraphy Act to purchase a licence. For that you get the privilege
of watching the BBC spend your hard earned cash on trashy make over
programmes and adverts telling you how fucking wonderful the BBC is.
'What
about all that cutting edge drama they produce?' I hear the lackeys
ask. What cutting edge drama? I ask in return. Ken Loache's Cathy
come home, a prime example of harrowing social commentary designed to
get the middle classes wailing and the slightly depressed committing
suicide, was made in 1968. That was a long time ago. All they have
done since then is axe Doctor Who and Blake's 7. 'But the BBC are
always on the look out for new talent.' Yes they are, and if you go
to the website you find they are only looking out for new talent if
you are prepared to work for free.
Being
by trade a computer programmer I have never read an End User Licence
Agreement in my life, whether from the devil in Redmond or from the
saints in the Linux community. So it was some surprise I found myself
reading the rules of a writing competition held
by the BBC. Here is a quote that had me vomiting with
indignation.
'By
submitting a story you grant to the BBC a perpetual, royalty free,
non exclusive licence to edit, publish, make available and distribute
your story throughout the world on any BBC media now know or
hereafter invented throughout the universe.'
If
by any chance you win, ie. you are sleeping with the judges, you then
have to
'agree
to work with the BBC production team, be available for filming and
take part in publicity throughout the UK.'
No
mention of remuneration you notice. No offer of a contract at the end
of it. No publishing deals, not even an option on your next novel.
Just a promise that they are going to ruin your shit by sucking the talent out of your
body, then piss on the remaining, worthless, husk.
Not
with my work you wont. I am going to get my own publisher and become
world famous. Then if you want to publish throughout the universe for
ever it is going to cost you. Starting with your approach to the
negotiating table, on your knees crawling over broken glass. Also to
be discussed is my brilliant idea for a new children's show that you
so viciously rejected a few years ago. The one about a magic hospital
bio-hazard waste disposal unit, called Pus Bag.
