

A leader column in the Sun spelt it out: “This is racism, pure and simple: Romanians, he is suggesting, are criminals to be feared.” Indeed he was, and he might reasonably have expected the Sun to be onside, given some of its previous headlines: “Our crime wave is good news for Romania”, “Beasts from the East”, “Capital hit by 28,000 Romanian criminals”.įor the purposes of the interview, it didn’t really matter whether Romanian men were more likely to be criminals than were German children. Everyone listening knew what Farage was nudging towards. Suggested article How Farage had the last laugh “You know what the difference is,” he replied, but O’Brien denied any such thing: “I honestly don’t.” What’s the difference between that situation and a group of German children moving in next door? he asked, and Farage was nonplussed. The Ukip leader had recently remarked that he’d be concerned if a group of Romanian men moved in next door, and O’Brien demanded an explanation. The critical moment in his transformation came during the 2014 election campaign for the European Parliament, when he got a chance to interview Nigel Farage, a man he clearly loathed. In 2004, O’Brien’s cover on Easter Monday was James Hewitt, famous for having committed adultery with Princess Diana fifteen years later, it was Labour MP Jess Phillips. We know this because there’s a simple measure of how a radio station sees its presenters: the calibre of the person chosen to sit in for them when they’re away. “Sometimes you should think about things before you speak about them,” he said, which isn’t really how it works.īut O’Brien is more serious than that nowadays. Lampard gave rather better than he got, though it is possible that he didn’t quite grasp the nature of the phone-in. His biggest story came in 2009 when he joined in the tabloid baiting of Frank Lampard over his treatment of his ex-girlfriend, only to find the footballer, somewhat enraged, calling in. And he wasn’t above a bit of old-fashioned union-bashing during a 2007 tube strike, he suggested that Londoners retaliate by boycotting the leader of the RMT: “If Bob Crow turns up at your shop, pub, cafe or minicab firm, don’t serve him.” In those days, you were as likely to find him interviewing Dick and Dom as Ken Clarke. It dates back to 2006, when O’Brien was still struggling to make the transition from showbiz hack to grown-up broadcaster. I should acknowledge, incidentally, that it’s terribly unfair to bring up Sawyer’s joke. And for those of us who love phone-in programmes, it’s a symbolic moment in the evolution of the format. Audience figures released last week showed that home-working means we’re tuning in later, with breakfast shows no longer the biggest beasts in the broadcasting jungle.įor the first time, O’Brien’s listenership has overtaken Ferrari’s. But the pandemic has changed the way we listen to radio. For almost two decades, the biggest show on LBC has been Nick Ferrari at breakfast, followed in the schedule by James O’Brien, the latter playing, according to Miranda Sawyer in The Observer, “Alan Partridge to Ferrari’s Chris Morris”.
