#Glastonbury - So far, the 'Richard Head of The Year Award 2025' - Goes To Glastonbury's, Very Own, Richard Head.
From Stage Rage to Shame: How a Festival Flop Secured the Coveted Title of Public Enemy No. 1.
(Image:BBC)
Alright, Glastonbury! That annual pilgrimage where the fields run wild with music, mud, and apparently, "utterly unacceptable" antisemitic comments that the BBC now regrets broadcasting live. Who knew that a global corporation, with entire departments dedicated to "editorial guidelines" and "not inciting violence," might, with the benefit of hindsight (that ever-elusive commodity), wish they'd just hit the "off" switch?
The storm in a teacup, or perhaps a rather large, controversial pint glass, concerns punk-rap duo Bob Vylan. And speaking of "originality," Bob Vylan? Wow, someone must have lost several nights' sleep thinking that one up! Clearly, short in the brains department, which, I guess, goes alongside their utterly moronic lyrics. Specifically, rapper Bobby Vylan's charming audience participation in chanting "Death, death to the IDF." And let's not forget the few thousand, equally mindless morons who were chanting along like parrots with mental health issues. One might think such a hearty singalong, especially given the current global climate, might raise an eyebrow or two at the live desk. But no, the BBC initially opted for a subtle on-screen warning, presumably so viewers could enjoy their deeply offensive content with a polite little disclaimer. It's like serving a poisoned chalice with a napkin that reads, "Warning: May contain arsenic."
The BBC's statement, delivered with the solemnity of a headmaster admitting the school hamster went rogue, conceded they "should have pulled the stream during the performance." Oh, during it? Not after the outrage hit the fan, then? Such foresight! They also swiftly removed the performance from on-demand. Because, naturally, allowing people to binge-watch "deeply offensive" content later would be a step too far. Live, unfettered incitement? That's just part of the festival vibe, apparently. I guess the appearance of the sun, rather than the usual downpour, must have penetrated people’s skulls and bleached their brains.
Politicians, those ever-vigilant guardians of public morality, swiftly descended. Baroness Jacqui Smith, former Home Secretary, was "mystified" – a sentiment shared by anyone who believes broadcasters should perhaps avoid airing what she termed "incitement to violence." Even Sir Keir Starmer, a man known for his fiery rhetoric (or lack thereof), demanded an explanation, labelling it "hate speech." High praise indeed from a man who generally reserves such passion for... well, waiting for things to blow over.
Health Secretary Wes Streeting, bless him, tried to inject a modicum of sense, suggesting we focus on the "humanitarian catastrophe" rather than football-team-like cheering. A noble effort, quickly drowned out by the chorus of demands for arrests and prosecutions. Chris Philp, ever the keen legal eagle, even suggested the BBC itself broke the law by broadcasting this "vile hatred." One can only imagine the police raiding Broadcasting House, demanding to know who approved the bass drop during the "Death to the IDF" chorus.
Meanwhile, the actual police, Avon and Somerset Constabulary, are doing what police do: "assessing video evidence." Which, in the UK, usually means they'll get to it after their tea break, if there's nothing more pressing like a rogue squirrel in a public park.
Amidst all this, Glastonbury Festival organisers, the Eavis family, initially defended their choice to host controversial acts, embracing their role as "a platform for many, many artists from all over the world." Apparently, this includes artists who might upset the Prime Minister, or those who chant slogans that disturb Israeli embassies. Later, they too were "appalled," presumably after a stern talking-to from someone with a very large chequebook.
Ultimately, this whole kerfuffle is a beautiful microcosm of our modern age. A live broadcast, an inflammatory moment, instant outrage, political grandstanding, and a corporation clutching its pearls while trying to explain away the inexplicable. All wrapped up in the glorious, muddy, unpredictable chaos that is Glastonbury. Perhaps next year, the BBC will just broadcast a static image of a well-behaved Labrador for three days. It'd certainly be less "offensive."
