Louis Sells Sex

Louis Theroux knows what sells. He is never too far away from a religious cult, a condemned prisoner or a sex worker. One might have thought that the novelty had worn off by now but, credit where it’s due, Louis manages to revisit every topic with the same wide-eyed gaze of wonder he has always done. He’s like someone watching the sun rise every day, smiling at everyone and pointing at it saying, ‘Wo-ow, here it is again, look.’ Then watching it set and forlornly declaring, ‘D’you think we’ll ever see it again?’

Hi talent is that he chooses his subjects carefully. The fellow sunrise watchers all jump up and down whooping and clapping going ’Look everybody, it came back!’ Similarly, the sunset crowd all weep and quiver saying, ‘Where is it going? Come baaaack!’

It usually helps if those involved are American.

This week, Louis was in pursuit of sex. Not him, personally, obviously. He lives a wholesome, monogamous and conventional life with his wife Louise and their children, Lou and Lulu. (I have no idea if this is correct and concede that it probably isn’’t)

No, Louis was on the trail of the sex workers and, here’s the twist, they were all UK based. This represents a break from tradition because, usually, his subjects are American, African or African American. A Louis program on sex workers would normally be set in Beverly Hills and feature copious silicone and tooth veneer. This sex work was happening right outside our front door.

As usual, Louis managed to be both shameless and puritanical in the same moment. Interviewing the sassy Victoria in her see-through one piece and silently withdrawing just moments before her client arrived for his weekly seeing to. He looked away bashfully as Caroline changed into her working gear but quizzed her relentlessly throughout the ensuing striptease that was her promotional photo shoot.

Louis, you can tell, makes friends easily. Sharing the bedtime routine with Victoria’s children – that’s the conventional ‘bath & story’ bedtime – talking to her 14 year old daughter about Mummy’s work and sharing intimate details with Caroline’s husband who takes the role of silent partner as his wife ply’s her trade in the marital home. He is at his best when anlaysing the moral dilemmas faced by the sex workers, their clientele and society at large.

His conclusion was that civilisation has probably become poorer for the continued devaluation of intimacy. Young adults were seen to endorse the use of sex as a commodity and the older subjects ventured that their youth would have been better had they lived in a less sexually suppressed era.

All in all, the program showed a consensual and liberated version of the industry. Everybody involved appeared to accept their role, there were few complaints. Nobody appeared to be forced or coerced into doing anything they didn’t want to and, generally, the female (it was always a female) seemed to become empowered by the situation. We may have benefited from a glimpse of the more tragic side of the story. However, as with all of Louis’ programs, you have an inherent sense of trust that, if he doesn’t dwell on something it’s because he doesn’t think it will add anything. He’s been doing this long enough now to know when to stop.        

The Masked Singer - an in depth study of its implications for mankind

FOR......FUCK'S......SAKE

It's Murder in Glasgow

Powerful courtroom dramas are meat and drink to peak time TV viewers. We are all so familiar with court procedure that we often assume that the judicial system can be viewed 24/7 on The Justice Channel or some other service way down the Freeview list. Surely there's a program on in the afternoon called Live From Her Magistrates or What's My Old Bailey? There's probably an outtakes reel on You Tube showing various QC's stumbling over their sentences - remember when Lord Justice Dillnutt handed out 300 years instead of 30? Everyone fell about!

Anyway, the fact is, The Disappearance of Margaret Fleming (BBC2 9pm 8th & 9th Jan 2020) represented the first time cameras had been allowed to film a real-life murder trial. It was rather jarring to realise that every other serious crime trial I had ever witnessed was some kind of dramatisation or reconstruction. This was the real thing. I braced myself for some reality.

The prosecution and defence lawyers were an uneven balance of 2 against 1. This was due to each defendant having their own barrister. Edward Cairney and Avril Jones stood jointly accused of murder (pronounced the Scottish way of course - Muld-del) and sat apart in the dock, rarely looking at each other. Their advocates, on the other hand, often glanced at each other. Whether to exchange knowing looks regarding the mounting evidence against them or simply to check the straightness of their ill fitting wigs, there was more eye contact between lawyers than accused.

Cairney cut a particularly tragic figure. Wheelchair-bound now, unkempt and dishevelled he contrasted dramatically from his former self. Shown as confident, stocky and gregarious, photographs of him portrayed, if not a flamboyant figure, then certainly a popular one, holding get-together's in his riverside house with his partner, Avril Jones and their charge at the time, the young Margaret Fleming. The intimacy of the relationship between Eddie and Avril was unclear to all, however, their role as carer to Margaret was as obvious as it was necessary. Here was a child with learning difficulties and limited mental ability who, although loving, trusting and kind, was vulnerable due to her capacity. Eddie and Avril had been entrusted with her care by her late father who passed away in the 1990's due to cancer.

The prosecution, the deliciously named Iain McSporran QC, cross examined Cairney in the climax to the trial at the end of episode 2. The court looked on helplessly as the exchange proceeded along the same lines as a father questioning a lying 6-year old about his involvement with a broken window and a football. Eddie had nothing to offer except insults. At one stage it looked as if his defence was going to be that the Judge had murdered Margaret Fleming. His suggestion that McSporran should go and 'boil his head' was not acted upon.

Avril Jones, as had been her modus operandi for the previous 17 years, said nothing. You were left wondering who was the most evil. The lying, conniving Cairney with all his bluster and assertions that he was being fitted-up by the law; or the silent Jones, obviously aware of the truth but in denial about all except the benefit cheques that kept coming her way throughout the 17 years Margaret was missing.

Maybe the real guilt lay at the door of the welfare services who lost all contact with this sad and vulnerable child when she needed them most of all.