Like most people, back in the mid-90s I was a fan of DJ Chris Evans, before his ego and arrogance spiralled out of control. He rightly disappeared for the best part of a decade, before reinventing himself as the BBC's safe pair of hands.
You wouldn't want to be him this morning. Or, indeed, him at any point over the past six months.
The knives have been out in quite spectacular style for the man who plucked the Mantle of Clarkson from inbetween the split lips of an assistant producer; the usual media outlets - looking for any excuse to kick the BBC in the thighs - have been willing Top Gear to fail ever since Clarkson, May and Hammond departed.
Suffice to say, the social media response to last night's revamped Top Gear was typically reactionary... bemoaning Evans' shouting, the awkward studio links, and the lack of chemistry between him and Matt LeBlanc - all things that can be sorted out given time. Pilot shows - and first ep of the new Top Gear can be considered a pilot - are rarely the best episode of a series.
Evans is nowhere this morning. He's taken the week off of his generally affable radio show, and isn't on Twitter. And you can't blame him; he's been in the media game long enough to be able to predict exactly what was going to happen today:
And so on. Whatever you think of Evans, something you absolutely have to give him credit for is that he has handled the unprecedented grief he's been getting with something approaching superhuman levels of restraint.
Even if you believe reports that he's been bullying people to the point of tears, and waggling his penis at every passing crew member, not once - publicly - has he lapsed into "Woe is me" whingeing. And last week it transpired that he's been managing to do so while his mother battles cancer.
Games people could learn a lot from him.
You wouldn't want to be him this morning. Or, indeed, him at any point over the past six months.
The knives have been out in quite spectacular style for the man who plucked the Mantle of Clarkson from inbetween the split lips of an assistant producer; the usual media outlets - looking for any excuse to kick the BBC in the thighs - have been willing Top Gear to fail ever since Clarkson, May and Hammond departed.
Suffice to say, the social media response to last night's revamped Top Gear was typically reactionary... bemoaning Evans' shouting, the awkward studio links, and the lack of chemistry between him and Matt LeBlanc - all things that can be sorted out given time. Pilot shows - and first ep of the new Top Gear can be considered a pilot - are rarely the best episode of a series.
Evans is nowhere this morning. He's taken the week off of his generally affable radio show, and isn't on Twitter. And you can't blame him; he's been in the media game long enough to be able to predict exactly what was going to happen today:
- top gear is utter shite
- Get your ego under control and STOP SHOUTING. Oh, and the show was shit.
- Knob..........
- One you should wear a hat to cover up the ginger crop. Two you should keep your mouth shut
And so on. Whatever you think of Evans, something you absolutely have to give him credit for is that he has handled the unprecedented grief he's been getting with something approaching superhuman levels of restraint.
Even if you believe reports that he's been bullying people to the point of tears, and waggling his penis at every passing crew member, not once - publicly - has he lapsed into "Woe is me" whingeing. And last week it transpired that he's been managing to do so while his mother battles cancer.
Games people could learn a lot from him.
DICKS WITH STICKS
You might've read the piece I wrote at the weekend, about the entitled dicks who are forever badgering games journos for failing to write exactly what they want them to write.
However, we only know about this, because a lot of games journos tell us about it.
They tell us about the abuse, the name-calling, the "death threats", because they share it with us. After writing my piece at the weekend, I started to wonder whether they might be better off just shutting up about it.
"Why should games journalists - or anyone - have to put up with abuse from strangers?" you might ask. Indeed, they shouldn't have to, but nobody knows how to do anything about it.
Also, it's an occupational hazard, part of doing a job that brings you into contact with actual people. Strip away the empathy that comes from looking someone in the face, and you're coming into contact with a raw person - without that mask we all wear.
You're dealing with people, and people are frequently arseholes - and all the more so when they don't have to look at the effect they're having on you. I mean, look at road rage.
I've lost count of times I've been bellowed at by other drivers. One even tried to ram my car on a motorway, because I pulled a funny face at him after he cut me up. Ask anyone who has worked in a shop, or as a bus driver, and they'll tell you the same: they get abuse all the time. And it's because they're not seen as people as such. Again, empathy isn't there. Are games journalists getting it worse than anyone else? Really?
You might've read the piece I wrote at the weekend, about the entitled dicks who are forever badgering games journos for failing to write exactly what they want them to write.
However, we only know about this, because a lot of games journos tell us about it.
They tell us about the abuse, the name-calling, the "death threats", because they share it with us. After writing my piece at the weekend, I started to wonder whether they might be better off just shutting up about it.
"Why should games journalists - or anyone - have to put up with abuse from strangers?" you might ask. Indeed, they shouldn't have to, but nobody knows how to do anything about it.
Also, it's an occupational hazard, part of doing a job that brings you into contact with actual people. Strip away the empathy that comes from looking someone in the face, and you're coming into contact with a raw person - without that mask we all wear.
You're dealing with people, and people are frequently arseholes - and all the more so when they don't have to look at the effect they're having on you. I mean, look at road rage.
I've lost count of times I've been bellowed at by other drivers. One even tried to ram my car on a motorway, because I pulled a funny face at him after he cut me up. Ask anyone who has worked in a shop, or as a bus driver, and they'll tell you the same: they get abuse all the time. And it's because they're not seen as people as such. Again, empathy isn't there. Are games journalists getting it worse than anyone else? Really?
GOOD GRIEF
It sucks, I know, to get grief online. I feel for anyone who has to deal with it. Part of what I hated about my own hassle was the anonymity. It can be scary. It took a fair bit of detective work on my part to find out who was responsible... and then when I did, that was replaced with a feeling of "Why do they hate me so much? I wouldn't treat them like that..."
Mine got bad enough, and weird enough, that I called the police, then disappeared from the Internet for 7 years. I didn't really see how moaning about it was going to change anything. I didn't know how else to stop it. I was obviously inviting it in some way, not handling it well, and so stepping away was the only real option.
All that me crying about it online would do - though cry I did away from the Internet - was invite more hassle. And I think that complaining about it is only going to bring more hassle for anyone else that does so. They'll be seen as crybabies, and a bully loves an easy target, someone who can make them feel powerful.
Heck, one of the turning points for the hassle I got was after I posted a blog about being bullied at school. It was like they could smell blood, or something. Things changed very noticeably for me after that. I wasn't braced for any of it... but made sure I was ready when I came back.
I'd been through my Pudsey The Dog experience - I knew that if I could keep a smile on my face while that tsunami of negativity washed over me, then I was ready for whatever the Internet had to offer.
Amazingly, I've not really had any grief since returning as Mr Biffo... but if I ever do I'll either ignore it, or - if it ever reached the levels it did before - I'll take it further, through legal channels. Fortunately, since I went away last time, laws have been changed. The police are no longer as powerless as they were.
It sucks, I know, to get grief online. I feel for anyone who has to deal with it. Part of what I hated about my own hassle was the anonymity. It can be scary. It took a fair bit of detective work on my part to find out who was responsible... and then when I did, that was replaced with a feeling of "Why do they hate me so much? I wouldn't treat them like that..."
Mine got bad enough, and weird enough, that I called the police, then disappeared from the Internet for 7 years. I didn't really see how moaning about it was going to change anything. I didn't know how else to stop it. I was obviously inviting it in some way, not handling it well, and so stepping away was the only real option.
All that me crying about it online would do - though cry I did away from the Internet - was invite more hassle. And I think that complaining about it is only going to bring more hassle for anyone else that does so. They'll be seen as crybabies, and a bully loves an easy target, someone who can make them feel powerful.
Heck, one of the turning points for the hassle I got was after I posted a blog about being bullied at school. It was like they could smell blood, or something. Things changed very noticeably for me after that. I wasn't braced for any of it... but made sure I was ready when I came back.
I'd been through my Pudsey The Dog experience - I knew that if I could keep a smile on my face while that tsunami of negativity washed over me, then I was ready for whatever the Internet had to offer.
Amazingly, I've not really had any grief since returning as Mr Biffo... but if I ever do I'll either ignore it, or - if it ever reached the levels it did before - I'll take it further, through legal channels. Fortunately, since I went away last time, laws have been changed. The police are no longer as powerless as they were.
A FIRE? A REAL FIRE? OH. A BONFIRE...
For all the talk of tackling online harassment, I wonder whether tackling it at all is ever going to do any good.
People are always going to be people. You can't change what they think of you regardless of whether you can stop them saying it to you. You can't control that.
And if you don't like it... moaning about it will likely only invite more of it into your life.
If it is bullying, if that's who you're dealing with, then giving them the satisfaction that they're succeeding in damaging or humiliating you is exactly what they want. If someone sets out to do something, then they want to see that they've succeeded, ideally.
That only happens, in the case of online harassment, if you tell them it has happened.
The Internet is always going to be The Internet. Trolls have never gone away. Cyberbullies aren't going anywhere. Harassers, misogynists, arseholes, are part of the fabric of online interaction - and part of the landscape if you want to draw attention to yourself by having a job that puts you in the line of fire.
If you choose to stand in a bonfire, and your trousers catch fire, then you've only got yourself to blame. Either equip yourself with a pair of fire-retardant pants, or get out of the fire. By all means tell friends and family away from the Internet, but standing there moaning online about it - fishing for sympathy and support - is only going to cause more fire to happen.
For all the talk of tackling online harassment, I wonder whether tackling it at all is ever going to do any good.
People are always going to be people. You can't change what they think of you regardless of whether you can stop them saying it to you. You can't control that.
And if you don't like it... moaning about it will likely only invite more of it into your life.
If it is bullying, if that's who you're dealing with, then giving them the satisfaction that they're succeeding in damaging or humiliating you is exactly what they want. If someone sets out to do something, then they want to see that they've succeeded, ideally.
That only happens, in the case of online harassment, if you tell them it has happened.
The Internet is always going to be The Internet. Trolls have never gone away. Cyberbullies aren't going anywhere. Harassers, misogynists, arseholes, are part of the fabric of online interaction - and part of the landscape if you want to draw attention to yourself by having a job that puts you in the line of fire.
If you choose to stand in a bonfire, and your trousers catch fire, then you've only got yourself to blame. Either equip yourself with a pair of fire-retardant pants, or get out of the fire. By all means tell friends and family away from the Internet, but standing there moaning online about it - fishing for sympathy and support - is only going to cause more fire to happen.
FROM THE ARCHIVE:
NO MAN'S SKY DELAY BRINGS THE DICKS OUT OF THE WOODWORK - BY MR BIFFO
THE DIGITISER2000 FRIDAY LETTERS PAGE
WHY DO PEOPLE HATE GAMES JOURNALISTS? - BY MR BIFFO
NO MAN'S SKY DELAY BRINGS THE DICKS OUT OF THE WOODWORK - BY MR BIFFO
THE DIGITISER2000 FRIDAY LETTERS PAGE
WHY DO PEOPLE HATE GAMES JOURNALISTS? - BY MR BIFFO
COME AND MEET MR BIFFO HERE ON JULY 30th:
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