Brand, Ross, Sachs, Baillie & the BBC

The BBC is an august and venerable broadcasting institution, upholding traditional values of quality and excellence, recognised the world over as a leader in its field.

Or, it is a cesspit of anti-establishment left wing activists, plotting to overthrow modern democracy and replace it with a Marxist state.

Both views are currently held by concerned politicians within the Houses of Parliament and by various organs of the press in the UK. There are those who see the state funding of the BBC as a glorious affirmation of the success of the same middle ground socialist principles that underpin the continued existence of the national Health Service.

And there are those who see the licence fee as an abomination akin to paying Satan to run a Sunday school.

[There may also be a degree of avarice here, since the Beeb is protected by statute from the worst effects of any economic downturn by virtue of the tax on viewing, whereas the "free to air" channels such as ITV, Channel 4 and Five are not. But that's an argument for another day, and if you can track it down Stephen Fry's podcast on this subject is well worth a listen.]

Every so often some unsuspecting celebrity or DJ or talk show host will blunder into controversy by acting in a way that allows the BBC's opponents to scream for blood. The ridiculous irony is that those same opponents who bay for the death sentence cite as justification for their righteous outrage the very broadcasting standards they would love to see ripped up!

This week it was poor little loveable Russell Brand's turn. Americans may remember Russell as the guy who recently ruined their annual MTV awards, not least by calling George W. Bush a retard. Apparently, if Americans call their President a retard it barely provokes more than a resigned shrug. But if a damned foreigner does it there is a outbreak of outrage!

Russell is a self styled Messianic Lord Byron figure, a reformed drug addict, whose stand up routine, weekly BBC Radio 2 show and every television appearance is peppered with references to his sexual conquests. How much of this is simply the portrayal of an invented character, and how much is verbatim reportage of a real life isn't clear. As with any public examination of celebrity the truth probably lies somewhere between.

One of Brand's much publicised (at least by him) conquests is Georgina Baillie member of the exotic dance group Satanic Sluts, who appears to have been until recently one of Brand's "regulars". Possibly brand would not have mentioned her on his radio show had it not been for the deliciously provocative happenstance that Baillie is the granddaughter of one of Britain's best known character actors Andrew Sachs, the guy who played the hapless Spanish waiter in John Cleese's iconic comedy series Fawlty Towers.

Regular listeners to Brand's show would have been well aware of Baillie's relationship with Brand and of her connection to Sachs before the now infamous broadcast of 18th October.

Brand's studio guest that evening was another infant terrible, the somewhat sleazy but very accomplished broadcaster Jonathon Ross, one of a handful of extremely highly paid BBC stalwarts. Ross is not averse to ridiculing or barracking the guests on his BBC One TV talk show on Friday nights, and is a long time friend of Brand's, having assisted the development of Brand's career more than once.

The show was not live. Brand made it clear in his intro that proceedings were being taped, and it's reasonable to presume that he would have expected a degree of protection should any lines of decorum be stepped over or any potentially litigious activity take place. It is standard procedure for satirical and edgy radio and TV output to be heavily edited for reasons of protecting the participants from themselves.

The show featured the usual mix of music and bawdy banter. It was highly entertaining if you like that sort of thing, probably entirely offensive (or puerile at best) if you don't.

I particularly enjoyed Ross' depiction of a delusional Brand-As-Christ examining himself in his bedroom mirror dressed only in a pair of underpants he had cherished since he was a little boy. Ross cut to the heart of Brand as a closet misogynist, describing him as a clown, and saying his recent Hollywood debut wasn't worthy of being considered acting since he only played himself. This was particularly cutting since one of Ross' many BBC jobs is as resident film critic.

And so it went on, each of them trying to go one step further than the other.

Things took a slightly bizarre turn when it was revealed that one of the evening's telephone guests would be none other than Andrew Sachs himself, who it was said was unaware that Brand and granddaughter Georgina Baillie had allegedly enjoyed a liaison.

Described by Brand as "the elephant in the room" was the fact that as far as Brand knew Sachs was unaware of what his granddaughter had been up to. Brand advised Ross not to mention anything to Sachs about his tryst with Baillie, but the set up would hardly have been worth the entry fee had the matter not been revealed to Sachs. One might even have suspected that Sachs might have been in on the "gag".

After all, he is a septuagenarian man of the world, and his granddaughter is a grown woman who dances exotically for a living in a group called The Satanic Sluts. It's hardly a stretch to imagine that she might be sexually active, or that an apparent sex addict like her friend Brand might have been involved with her. As Ross said, "Russell, most of us just assume that you've slept with our granddaughters." The implication being that Sachs would hardly be surprised by the revelation.

The anarchy descended into farce when instead of Sachs appearing on the line at the appointed time it was the BT ring tone and his answer machine that took centre stage. An obvious cock-up of scheduling, some wag behind the scenes had decided to press ahead with the "interview" even though the interviewee was absent.

Brand made a good stab at making the best of things, gamely proceeding to interview the answer machine. It was during this bizarre segment of the show where the wheels came off the wagon.

As Brand did what he could with an absent guest Ross blurted out loudly in the background, "He f**ked your granddaughter!"

From then on things went from bad to worse as Brand struggled to extract every drop of comedy juice from a fruit that was long overripe. Hyperbole flipped over into hysteria, with each of the offenders attempting variously to repair the damage and make the most mileage they could by over egging the pudding.

Three more calls were made to the answer machine, the inescapable comedy logic being that the only way to save the situation was to repeat the mistakes of the past. And so Andrew Sachs would have returned to his home to find two laddish celebrities monopolising his answer machine. Quite what he must have made of the out of context message we cannot quite know.

It was (regardless of any subsequent discomfort on Sachs' part) comedy gold of the sort only witnessed once in a generation. Yes, it was shocking, but isn't that the point of such comedy? Why have it otherwise? The critics, most of whom have not heard the show, have the same mind set that would happily have erased Monty Python, the Young Ones, Not The Nine O'Clock News, Chris Morris and every other radically confrontational comedy turn since the end of World War 2.

What happened next would depend entirely on Sachs' reaction to the show. That the newspapers and media were eventually able to extract a degree of grumpiness from the veteran actor was all they needed to go to town on the soon to be infamous duo - the now evil and disgusting Brand and Ross.

They were accused of leaving obscene prank calls on a stranger's answer machine. As well as demands that Ross and Brand be sacked on the spot, there were calls for a public enquiry into the way the BBC does business. OFCOM, the regulatory body, were urged to investigate and even the Prime Minister (never one to milk a populist issue) stepped in to call their behaviour unacceptable.

Georgina Baillie, previously a nobody, now had the infamous Max Clifford on board as publicist. She interrupted her European tour of exotic dancing venues and jetted back home, apparently too upset to continue, except to speak to the Sun newspaper of course. Brand, previously her number one buddy on her facebook page, was now someone she would never speak to again.

Brand and Ross apologised to Sachs. Sachs accepted the apology and decided he wanted to put the whole thing behind him, but the newspapers persisted for a second day, clamouring to wield the axe of righteous indignation, quoting sections of the "disgusting" radio show out of context, piling on the pressure.

Of course, the primary beneficiaries of all of this are Brand, Ross, Sachs and Baillie, each of whom is now free to write their ticket. Brand's next tour will be a sell out. More people will tune in to Ross' talk show this Friday. Sachs may well find himself a spot in a celebrity torture show, and Baillie will sell her "sex romp secrets" to the highest bidder.

The BBC will spend a few hundred thousand pounds carrying out a "thorough investigation into the circumstances of what happened" and some unknown producer will be made a temporary scapegoat.

It's all highly entertaining, does nothing to presage the moral collapse of western civilisation, and just gives everyone a great excuse to have a right old traditional British ding-dong!

Get the timeline here.