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The Guardian

The radio debut of the House of Commons: ‘there could be a long-running series here' – archive, 1975

Permanent radio broadcasts from the House of Commons began on 3 April 1978, and from the House of Lords on 4 April. Television broadcasts began on 21 November 1989. 10 June 1975 Ed Boyle, the commercial radio commentator for the first broadcast of parliament, yesterday spent two hours cooped up in a tiny glass box at a temperature of nearly 90 degrees, wearing a jacket, tie, and buttoned up collar, suffering from a particularly ferocious type of dysentery which has already brought his weight down to eight stone. Just to add a touch of challenge to the job, he was operating a new type of microphone kindly supplied by the BBC with operating instructions entirely in Japanese. In spite of this, Mr Boyle and his BBC colleague, David Holmes, who were trapped together in the same tiny glass box, managed somehow to give composed and informative account of the proceedings. Mr Holmes admitted afterwards that the heat had been so great that at times he had thought he would not be able to carry on, and though listeners may have noticed his voice fading occasionally, he always remained strikingly coherent and apparently in command. Mr Boyle now intends to make a few swift changes to make life slightly more bearable. Apart from sartorial changes to Bermuda shorts, for himself, he plans to make commentating easier by fading out some members when the discussion gets too technical. 'Some of the questions are really on very minor and erudite issues, and I guess the MPs won't mind if we turn them down occasionally so as to explain to the listeners what is happening.' Yesterday the two broadcasters were blessed by a good chunk of pungent topical debates, with Tony Benn using industry questions as the chance to prove himself a good Euro-democrat, and with splendid quotations like: 'If the opposition wants any head on a charger, the leader of the Conservative party will have to be a lot more seductive as a Salome than she has been so far.' At the same time, there were highly complex questions about, for example, the funding of the new pod for the stretched version of the Rolls-Royce RB 211 – a matter of great importance, but one which cannot be explained in the few seconds between question and answer. Both commentators had to trim down their remarks to within a second or so either way: Mr Holmes reckoned that if he did not spot immediately whether the speaker was calling an MP for a supplementary or for the next question on the order paper, he would lose two of the four or five vital seconds of explaining time. Time was so tight that Mr Boyle had to make a definite policy decision to give the first name of each MP as well as his surname and party. Often their time was so limited they could only say: 'This is a question about Europe' or, 'This is about British Leyland.' Mr Holmes hopes to grab a few more seconds of talking time while MPs are laughing and cheering between answers. But both men were pleased with the way things had gone, and came out of the box easier in mind if not in body than they had been when they went in. 'What's encouraging is that it looks as if we can do a proper job without the house having to change its way of going about business or even the tempo of its debates, so no one need feel that we are interfering in any way,' said Mr Holmes. The commercial company plans to use more material than the BBC will use, with prime minister's questions live every Tuesday and Thursday, plus special debates. It will also have an hour of extracts and highlights each morning – twice as long as the BBC – with an instant feedback service from a panel of MPs who took part in the debate; and possibly a Saturday morning edition giving chunks of the week's committees. Val Arnold-Forster, our radio critic, adds: It was a lucky day for broadcasters, according to David Holmes at the end of the transmission – audibly breathing a sigh of relief. It was too, it was a well or luckily chosen parliamentary day. At first, both Holmes and his opposite number, Ed Boyle of IRN, seemed to feel a trifle defensive about parliament. Well they might, for BBC listeners anyway missed not only some of Woman's Hour and a play, but since political events always seem to invade children's entertainment, they also missed Listen with Mother. Before the actual live broadcast started, both political editors showed us round like keen members of a parent-teachers association displaying their school: eager to tell us about the hallowed tradition, the problems that the whole institution had in a changing society, and the usefulness of the work done. The leader of the house, Edward Short, appeared on both channels in his headmasterly capacity to say that this was a particularly noisy House of Commons, but he hoped that the MPs would be on their best behaviour. A bit unruly, he thought, and not only the MPs either. There would have been more room, said Mr Short, in the tiny broadcaster's box if IRN and BBC had done the decent thing and agreed to a joint transmission. Nobody need have worried: from the moment question time started we were in capable hands. Both David Holmes and Ed Boyle chipped into the debate sotto voce, to identify and give party allegiances and explanations. Both tried valiantly to feed the listener with the details that make the House of Commons come alive. 'Mr Bidwell, chairman of the Tribune Group … Mr Denis Skinner, always a lively performer … Mr Benn is smiling to himself.' But they need not really have bothered: the proceedings were jolly enough. For those of us used to hearing politicians debating cautiously in front of untried audiences or answering laboured questions and phone-ins, it was an entertaining experience to hear such skilful parliamentary technicians as Harold Wilson and Tony Benn, parrying questions, riposting, joking, and scolding. The jokes were not always very good, but that's true of other radio comedians. Perhaps the laughter and applause sometimes seemed excessive but the barbed retorts were well placed and, as in other radio shows, what seemed like impromptu repartee must have been rehearsed, if only in the bath. 'I do not require lessons in political morality from an honourable member who regularly signs the oath of allegiance and snipes continually at the royal family,' snapped Tony Benn to Willie Hamilton. The uproar which worried Edward Short was cheerful mostly. The general cosiness, which came through strikingly as everyone complimented everyone else on performances in the referendum debate, seemed as easy to grasp as the Archers: we could become as familiar with William Whitelaw's idiosyncrasies as Walter Gabriel's. Final verdict: early days yet, but there could be a compulsive, long-running series here.