Another classic British comedy is slapped with woke trigger warning by the BBC over ‘discriminatory language'
WOKE JOKE Another classic British comedy is slapped with woke trigger warning by the BBC over 'discriminatory language'
BBC officials have slapped trigger warnings on another hit British comedy — The Royle Family.
Regulators have flagged seven episodes for 'discriminatory language some viewers may find offensive'.
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BBC officials have slapped trigger warnings on another hit British comedy — The Royle Family, pictured Ricky Tomlinson as Jim Royle
Credit: BBC
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The show followed the Royles for three series and ended in 2012
Credit: Alamy
It does not specify which scenes in the Manchester-based sitcom it deems potentially dodgy in the alerts on iPlayer.
The show ran for three series and followed couch potato family the Royles, led by Ricky Tomlinson's bone idle telly addict dad Jim — catchphrase 'my arse!'
It attracted 12 million viewers in its heyday and also starred Caroline Aherne, Craig Cash [both writers], Sue Johnston, Ralf Little and Liz Smith.
The final episode of 25 aired on Christmas Day 2012.
In 2021, the BBC added a flag to episode two in series three for a scene where Jim describes real-life TV designer Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen as a 'nancy boy'.
Now there are warnings for episodes one, three and six from series two, which went out in 1999.
Episode one from series three, which aired in 2000, is also considered problematic, possibly for Anthony Royle (Little) calling a pal a 'batty boy'.
The 2008 and 2009 The Royle Family specials are under scrutiny too.
It comes after cautious BBC regulators warned viewers of supposedly contentious scenes in The Fast Show sketch show and The Office.
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Scotsman
an hour ago
- Scotsman
where Tom added the pair took part in "prayers and pints at the idyllic Church-owned inn in the Highlands".
A video shows Ben and Tom on their 1,000-mile tandem bike challenge during which they ate, drank and slept in pubs. Sign up to our daily newsletter – Regular news stories and round-ups from around Scotland direct to your inbox Sign up Thank you for signing up! Did you know with a Digital Subscription to The Scotsman, you can get unlimited access to the website including our premium content, as well as benefiting from fewer ads, loyalty rewards and much more. Learn More Sorry, there seem to be some issues. Please try again later. Submitting... Two comedians have completed a 1,000 mile journey from Land's End to John O'Groats on a tandem bike to save British pubs - stopping at nearly 100. Ben McFarland and Tom Sandham, together known as the 'Thinking Drinkers', finished their 'Great British Pub Ride' on July 3. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad The pair began their journey on a two-wheeled, two-man tandem bike on Friday June 20 - and for two weeks only ate, drank, slept and stopped in British boozers. They decided to embark on the adventure after learning from the British Beer and Pub Association (BBPA) that around six pubs are closing every week in the UK. Tom said: "We've always loved pubs but the overwhelming warmth, generosity and goodwill that we've received on this journey has blown us away. 'It's been an incredible experience and we've met so many wonderful people on both sides of the bar'. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad During the two-week pub pilgrimage, Tom and Ben cycled over 1,000 miles in total - and they visited at least four pubs every day. The pair said they had a wild experience, as they bumped into 'The Stig' in his local, enjoyed their first ever 'Wigan Kebab', stumbled into a thrash metal music festival in the highest pub in Scotland, and had some cake at the remotest pub in mainland Britain. Ben McFarland and Tom Sandham, together known as the 'Thinking Drinkers' at John O'Groats on their Great British Pub Ride. | Deft Productions / SWNS Ben and Tom rode on a tandem bike which they borrowed, yet had 'hardly ridden', from a man they met down the pub. Ben said: 'It's been a brutal bike ride, full of ups and downs, but it's nothing compared to the very real challenges facing the people running pubs up and down the country. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad 'People think pubs are just a place for a pint but, from Cornwall to the Cairngorms, we've seen that they are so much more than that - one in three visits to a pub doesn't involve an alcoholic drink. "At a time of increasing isolation and a growing mental health epidemic, pubs are proven antidotes to loneliness where people can forge genuine social networks - not online ones.' On their journey, Ben and Tom encountered publicans who provide yoga classes for the local community, warm spaces in winter for the elderly, barbershops and package delivery services - to name but a few. The pair said some of their favourite pubs they visited were the Salutation Inn, in Ham, Berkeley, as Tom described the boozer as a "wonderful wet led pub with great drinks and a lovely guy running it". Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad Ben McFarland and Tom Sandham, together known as the 'Thinking Drinkers' at Havener's Bar and Grill in Fowley, Cornwall. | Deft Productions / SWNS The most remote pub in Britain His other favourite was the Crask Inn, in Lairg, the most remote boozer in Britain - where Tom added the pair took part in "prayers and pints at the idyllic Church-owned inn in the Highlands". Ben said he loved the Barkley Tavern, in Springfield, Wigan, because "the owner Debbie and her family breathed life back into a derelict boozer and provide so much help to their local community". He said: "I also enjoyed the Old Success Inn, in Penzance, as it was a cracking Cornish pub overlooking Sennen Cove - where our adventures began with some morning yoga on the terrace. "An instant hit was also the Kings Arms in South Zeal: a classic traditional village pub filled with welcoming locals and a lovely atmosphere." Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad Ben and Tom said their ride helped them to understand the day-to-day difficulties publicans and landlords face; ranging from ever-increasing energy bills, business rates, impractical environmental levies and industry taxation levels far in excess of other European countries. Tom said: 'The costs for pubs to simply do business are far too high - based on turnover and profit, no other business sector in the economy is taxed so heavily and unjustly.'
The Guardian
an hour ago
- The Guardian
Absolute creamer! Instagram star Prime Mutton takes America – with a passion for pints
You might not be familiar with Prime Mutton. Maybe you haven't heard his catchphrases – 'absolute creamer', 'muttonista', or the still-in-development 'creamerisimo'. If so, you're missing out on a man who in the space of a year has created little short of a cult: an army of more than 160,000 social media fans, including celebrities, who cheer along online and in person as their leader – basically – reviews beer. Prime Mutton, whose real name is Jason Hackett, isn't the typical social media star. He is not, with all due respect, a beautiful twentysomething posting videos that are brightly lit with nice colors and snappy edits. He's a 55-year-old professional bridge player from Manchester, with a moustache, a leather pork pie hat, and a body that, he readily admits, reflects his enthusiasm for ale. The lighting in his videos is not up to professional standards, they are rife with background noise – he films the videos in bars – and his recent experiments with fonts and emojis have frequently been chaotic. But what Prime Mutton does have is a passion: a passion for pints. That devotion, coupled with his unvarnished persona and his 'absolute creamer' catchphrase – uttered with relish when a beer meets his high standards – have been enough for him to succeed where so many Brits before him have not: he has cracked America. 'I think people, when I publish my little videos and posts, it brings them quite a lot of happiness,' Prime Mutton told the Guardian on a recent Sunday in Brooklyn. 'People, you know, wake up, they're about to go to work, or they're at work on their break, and it's something that makes them happy – and it's wholesome and authentic as well.' Prime Mutton – 'the brain in terms of knowledge of food and drink is prime; the body is mutton, in that I'm not exactly a honed, prime physical athletic specimen' – is on his first US tour, appearing in Boston, New York, Philadelphia and beyond. He has visited dozens of bars, drawing thousands of fans, many wearing T-shirts bearing his face or holding banners with the legend 'absolute creamer'. The in-person appearances, which Prime Mutton announces in advance on his Instagram, follow the same formula as his videos. Prime Mutton appears on camera standing in a bar, holding a pint of beer. He greets the visiting 'muttonistas' – a term he coined for fans, and one which they have eagerly embraced, before announcing where he is, and which beer he is going to review. Then the magic begins. Sommeliers and cicerones advise that the best way to taste wine or beer is to swish it in the glass, sniff, sip, and swill it around in your mouth to really assess the flavors. Prime Mutton does not do this. Instead, he raises his pint and takes a gigantic swig, a full four or five gulps, until two-thirds of the beer is consumed. After coming up for air, he takes a few moments before delivering his verdict. The gold standard, for Prime Mutton and his adherents, is that the beer is an 'absolute creamer'. His delivery of the phrase, which he said he picked up on a visit to Ireland, sends crowds online and in person into ecstasy. The Guardian met Prime Mutton at a bar close to where he was due to make his first appearance of the day. The idea was to have a private chat before he addressed the muttonistas. But nowhere is private for Prime Mutton these days. As we talked, a man, in his 50s, balding, with a grey beard, spotted us through the window and began to wave, hopping up and down excitedly. The man was Paul Giamatti, Golden Globe and Emmy-winning, Oscar- and Bafta-nominated actor. From outside, Giamatti motioned for us to stay in place – the man really can act – and ran out of view. He quickly reappeared with his son and hustled into the bar. He was wearing a black polo shirt which said 'Muttonista' above an image of Prime Mutton. Giamatti introduced himself as Paul. Rarely has a man looked happier. He asked if he could have a photo. 'Of course,' said Prime Mutton – and one was taken. The two men chatted briefly before a beaming Giamatti left. I asked Prime Mutton if he knew who that was. He did not. I told him it was a famous actor. 'See, that's not my world,' Prime Mutton said, but he did add that Giamatti 'seemed very nice'. Giamatti satiated, it was time for Prime Mutton to head to Hartley's bar, where about 150 people had gathered in a pub designed to hold about 30 people. The majority of the crowd had to settle for a spot outside, some spilling over into the road. Mutton was here to sample the Guinness, which he had been told was among the best the city has to offer. As we walked round the corner together, the crowd went wild. There was a primal roar, like people cheering a musician as they emerge at the Super Bowl. This was Mutton as a more conservatively dressed, somewhat heavier Kendrick Lamar – a rough and ready British interpretation of American celebrity. Inside, an area had been spaced out for Prime Mutton to taste the bar's Guinness. A hush went over the crowd as he was presented with a pint. He raised it to his lips and paused, a showman teasing his audience. Then he drank, gulp after gulp, as he drained more than two-thirds of the beer. Prime Mutton set the glass down on the bar. He smacked his lips. Foam hung on his moustache. Tension hung in the air. The crowd was now completely silent. Their entire focus was on this man, wearing a pork pie hat and suspenders, a man about to make days or crush dreams. Hairs on the backs of necks were raised. Which way would Caesar Mutton's thumb point? He paused, considering his decision. 'That's good. It's very good actually,' Prime Mutton said, but there was more. 'However, I can't say it's the best pint I've had in New York.' Hearts sank. His assessment wasn't over, however. 'But it's still so good,' Prime Mutton said, 'that I'm going to call it an absolute creamer.' An almighty cheer went up. People went wild. Men jumped up and down and hugged each other. High fives were exchanged between strangers. A woman nearly fell off a stool. The muttonistas, much like Prime Mutton's thirst, had been sated. 'He's completely endearing, and sort of what I need in my heart right now, given the state of the world,' said Nick Lucchesi, as Prime Mutton polished off the rest of his pint. 'I mean, look at him. He's smiling and kind of quite Mancunian in all the best ways.' Lucchesi had already seen Mutton once on this tour, but came back for more, cycling across Brooklyn to lend his support. 'He's certainly a wonderful bloke. I just feel like: who doesn't like a Guinness? And a nice guy dropping a catchphrase and talking about it? It makes you feel good,' he said. Others echoed the sentiment. And at a time when male influencers are frequently awful, it's true that Mutton offers something different from the rest. He's not ordering young men to dunk their heads in ice at 3.50am. He's not a misogynist, he's not racist, he doesn't belittle anyone, he's basically … not a dickhead. He's just a man, a man who likes drinking beer, who likes making his videos, and likes bringing people joy. At a time when a lot is wrong with society, when many of us have found ourselves searching for something real and grounded and normal, who wouldn't want to be a muttonista? This article was amended on 7 July 2025. A previous version said Paul Giamatti had been introduced to Prime Mutton by his son. It was actually Giamatti who introduced his son to Prime Mutton.
Daily Mail
4 hours ago
- Daily Mail
CHRISTOPHER STEVENS reviews Heatwaves: The New Normal? It used to be called ‘summer', now a hot spell has the BBC in meltdown
Heatwaves: The New Normal? (BBC2) Marilyn Monroe started a heat-wave in 1954, by 'letting her seat wave', in a fiery number from the musical There's No Business Like Show Business. 'Her anatomy, made the mercury, jump to 93!' But to hear the BBC tell it, you'd think there was no such thing as a heatwave before climate change. Weather presenter Sarah Keith-Lucas was having a meltdown in Heatwaves: The New Normal? as she predicted wildfires sweeping the UK and 'extreme heat' with 'extreme consequences'. This was the language of hysteria, matched with pictures of burned-out houses and forest infernos. 'When Los Angeles burned, home after home was razed to the ground,' she warned. 'In Australia, hundreds have died and millions of hectares devastated as a result of bushfires. ' Britain, too, could be on the verge of similar heatwave hell, Sarah believes, thanks to 'human-induced climate change'. We cut to clips of anxious members of the public, voicing fears of 'climate collapse'. A buildings expert declared that old buildings with the wrong sort of windows 'will just become uninhabitable'. How this will happen, he didn't explain. Maybe he was worried about rusty hinges that won't open. But a bit of WD-40 will fix that, and it's cheaper than abandoning your home and moving into an air-conditioned refuge. Temperatures above 26°C could cause thousands of deaths, Sarah claimed, citing the Office for National Statistics. Before climate change, a week of 26°C used to be known as 'summer'. Now, it's the end of civilisation. Car valets of the night: Following a fatal stabbing, Mark and Johnny set about restoring a blood-soaked Renault to showroom condition for a rental fleet, on Crime Scene Cleaners (Ch4). Somebody could have died in your next holiday hire vehicle. There's a grim thought. Sarah did admit that a heatwave happened in 1976, though she reported it as a moment of national crisis, with police evacuating countless people from their homes, probably because they couldn't open their windows. But the problem, according to Candice Howarth — spokeswoman for the Quadrature Climate Foundation — is that 'we culturally and historically aren't used to heatwaves in the UK'. I'm sure she's right. Cinema-goers in the Fifties probably came out scratching their heads and saying, 'You know what, Doris, culturally and historically I've got no idea what Marilyn Monroe was singing about.' The reality is that anything can become an alarming new phenomenon if it's served with a spin of panic. Sarah took us into her BBC weather studio, a cubbyhole with a camera and a green screen, and showed us a map on which the jet stream locked Britain under a 'heat dome'. As the temperatures rose, the colours on the map turned a more vivid red. By the time it hit 30°C (86°F), the UK was glowing fire-alarm crimson. Then she met a farmer who was planning to cope with 'weather extremities' by planting a vineyard. Sadly, Sarah was left holding an empty bottle because the vines haven't produced grapes yet.
