Lorne Jackson: The Clegg effect

Apr 28 2010

A FORTNIGHT ago, if I’d started a column with the line: ‘Let’s talk about Nick Clegg’, you would have flicked past this page without a further glance.

It would have seemed as punchy an opening gambit as writing ‘Let’s talk about the merits of Velcro as a shoe fastener when compared with the tried and tested formula of laces’.

Two weeks ago nobody knew who Nick Clegg was. Or cared.

If the Liberal Democrat’s leader had gone canvassing on his parents’ street, they would have called the police to report the appearance of a suspicious looking stranger stuffing an election pamphlet through their letter box.

Now everybody is talking about the ‘Clegg effect’.

Last week’s election debate gave him a leg up in the polls. Or do I mean a Clegg up in the polls?

His sudden popularity should be good news for the Lib Dems, but the truth is that the rise of Nick has nothing to do with Nick.

Or his party. Or his policies.

It’s all about The Addams Family.

Remember them? I’m sure you recall the theme tune from the popular TV show.

It could almost have been a rallying cry for the BNP: ‘They’re creepy and they’re kooky, mysterious and spooky, they’re all together ooky...’

But back to the Addams Family.

You see, the Addams have been around a long time. First they were a series of humorous cartoons in the New Yorker Magazine, drawn by artist Charles Addams. Then came the TV show, and later there was a series of hit movies.

Now there is a musical, which opened on Broadway this month.

It’s meant to be terrible.

Critics

At least that’s what the newspaper critics are claiming. They have lambasted the show, gnashed their sharp teeth at it, ripped it to shreds, stomped all over it.

But here’s the curious thing. The show is a massive hit. Audiences don’t care what the critics think.

In fact, they are openly laughing at their opinions.

On the internet, regular people have got together to discuss the Addams Family musical and come to the conclusion that all those newspaper scribblers are a bunch of useless fools who don’t know what they’re talking about.

The critics have been criticised – and found wanting.

It used to be said that with one petulant word, a New York theatre hack could close a Broadway show. With changes in technology that power has slipped from their ink-stained hands.

Everybody is a critic now. On Twitter. On Facebook. Everybody can air their opinion and broadcast it for all to see.

The cost of entry to the world of public debate is very low these days – all you need is a laptop, or access to an internet café. So why should the opinionated shmucks from the daily rags get their own way all the time?

Across America, prestigious newspapers and journals are sacking their professional critics. They realise that this is the age of the amateur.