PETER HITCHENS: Trying to have a serious argument with Russell Brand is like playing chess with a squirrel. Why was it given a place in the national debate?

I will never forget the night Russell Brand asked me to kiss me. He had been busy losing an argument over drugs on BBC Newsnight in 2012.

I had already known him for a long time. When we first met, at a drug debate in London chaired by Emily Maitlis, I teased him about his silly hat and called him a “so-called comedian” (I think the jury didn’t has not yet ruled on this point).

I thought that a person who liked to make fun of others, like poor Andrew Sachs, might not be used to that himself.

I tried to get him to say if he was responsible for his own drug use. But instead I received a verbal outburst about how I was bigoted, how The Mail on Sunday was bigoted, how I “peddled hate” and lacked love for people. other human beings.

Then there was the usual accusation of racial bias. The audience at this debate loved it, and the meeting ended with the unmistakable sound of north London Liberals demanding more.

PETER HITCHENS: I will never forget the night Russell Brand asked me to kiss me. He had been busy losing a drug row on BBC Newsnight in 2012 (Brand pictured on Newsnight in 2012)

Here we are again debating drugs and the law, this time with the BBC’s Stephanie Flanders in the chair. It didn’t matter that he lost the argument: it was Mr. Brand who had been tasked with making a series of programs on the subject, and I hadn’t.

I was the one who had written and published a critical history of British drug laws since the 1960s, and he had written a volume called My Booky Wook. He was also the one who knew how to rip his shirt (or on this occasion, I think, his jeans).

Not long before, Mr Brand had been invited to give evidence – cowboy hat, torn shirt and all – before the House of Commons Home Affairs Select Committee.

I had the strong impression that its members were more eager to hear from it than me and my two colleagues Mary Brett and Kathy Gyngell, increasingly reclusive opponents of the weakening of drug laws.

Mr. Brand, let us remember, distinguished himself in 2008 with his horrible and grim farce, alongside Jonathan Ross, which he played on the actor Andrew Sachs.

Remember what he did. He left three messages on Mr. Sachs’ answering machine, repeatedly making obscene and graphic statements about his granddaughter. These were then broadcast by BBC Radio.

The BBC has been fined £150,000 over the so-called Sachsgate scandal. This cost Brand his job at Radio 2 and led to Ross’s suspension and management discipline.

Yet four years later the same Russell Brand was commissioned by another part of the BBC to make a major documentary series on drugs, apparently because he had used them before.

Brand, in my opinion, is not stupid, even if he is misinformed and very bad at arguing. He makes a lot of use of his teeth, showing them while mocking. His voice, if you challenge him, is very strange.

It’s a sort of whine coming from the hedge trimmer as he tries to speak for you. Then it’s disturbing baby talk (disturbing because it’s coming from a grown man), when he’s trying to curry favor with you, the presenter, or the audience.

He may be aware of it. He once called me, without any obvious justification, a “peculiar child,” but I remember thinking that the term applied much more to him.

He is particularly contemptuous of anyone older than him. I was struck, when he appeared before the Home Affairs Committee, by his attitude towards the most senior member, the very lively and lively David Winnick, then almost 80 years old.

Mr. Brand (photo), let us remember, distinguished himself in 2008 with his horrible, dark farce, alongside Jonathan Ross, which he played to the actor Andrew Sachs.

Mr. Winnick quite rightly chastised Mr. Brand for his flippancy, saying: “It’s not quite a variety show, Mr. Brand.” »

The supposed comedian responded like an irritated cat, flashing an obnoxious smirk and once again demonstrating that he wasn’t as nice as he seemed.

He chose to directly mock Mr. Winnick’s age, saying, “You offer a little variety, though.” You make it more like Dad’s Army.

Much of Mr Brand’s testimony was just verbal mush: here’s a response he gave to a Conservative MP who had actually asked someone else whether ignoring drug offenses could make things worse.

Mr. Brand jumped into the discussion and said: “Being arrested is not a lesson. It’s just an administrative error.

“You have to demonstrate situational awareness.

“Yes, of course, in many ways the disease or addiction condition gets worse, and if you start taking drugs, you’ll probably take worse drugs, and if you take expensive drugs, you’ll end up commit a crime.

“But again, mate, what we need to identify is some level of authenticity and compassion in how we deal with this issue, otherwise you’ll look like you don’t know what you’re talking about . »

It’s gibberish. Note the mix of long, pretentious words and the pseudo-friendly use of the word “companion.”

Chatting seriously with such a person is like trying to play chess with a squirrel, who might move an occasional piece without any real idea of what he was doing, but the next moment he would overturn the board, scattering the pieces. pawns, kings and queens, and chattering shrilly.

But I saw it taken seriously. I meet people quite often who take it seriously. And that’s why I’m a little proud that, that August night, Brand tried so hard to dissuade me, and failed.

Once again there was a molasses-like sentimentality about how we should feel more compassion, calling me “buddy” and then condescending dismissal, calling me old-fashioned and dismissing me. accusing it of “foghorn madness of yesteryear”.

PETER HITCHENS (pictured on BBC Newsnight in 2013): Arguing seriously with such a person is like trying to play chess with a squirrel, who might move the occasional piece without any real idea of what he was doing, but the next moment he would turn the situation around. chessboard, scattering pawns, kings and queens, and chattering in a strident manner.

PETER HITCHENS (pictured by BBC Newsnight in 2013): Arguing seriously with such a person is like trying to play chess with a squirrel, who might move the occasional piece without any real idea of what he was doing, but the next moment he would turn the situation around. chessboard, scattering pawns, kings and queens, and chattering in a strident manner.

Then it happened. The baby’s voice was fully deployed, teeth fully displayed: “I have learned to love you, Peter, and in a minute I will give you such a kiss on the lips.” I’m going to challenge you on a few more of your prejudices.

He never came near me, I’m happy to report.

I wondered then, as I wonder now, why such a person occupies such an important place in the national debate.

The answer, I think, lies in the astonishing power of fame over those deprived of any real hope in life.

In our society, what would have once been a comfortable and secure way of life is incredibly difficult to obtain.

Education has failed, the economy offers little but low wages and high rents.

Celebrities are like us, but they’re rich. The more they are like us, the more we love them for their success and the more we listen to them.

The old voices of education, research, skills and experience are simply cranky, Victorian and outdated.

Unless we can do something pretty drastic, the future belongs to Russell Brand, or someone a lot like him.

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