Last night the BBC broadcast a brilliant spoofumentary. Up there with the likes of Chris Morris and Brass Eye it was, and perhaps even better.
Presented by actor-geezer Danny Dyer, the hour-long film “I believe in…UFOs” took what I believe is called a sideways look at those who believe that extraterrestrial higher intelligences are regular visitors to our primitive little planet. Lots of belief there, to be sure.
In the programme, which UK residents can watch again on the BBC website or download via iPlayer (furriners can try YouTube and the like), Dyer called on his “boyhood hero” Patrick Moore, examined crop circles and alleged UFO landing sites, and hung out with west coast hippies who I suspect may have spiked his coffee with mescaline.
Dyer’s genius lay in his ability to persuade the viewer – or at least this humble reviewer – in awestruck tones that there may really be something in this UFO stuff. “Fuck me!”, Dyer exclaimed at regular intervals, only to have the bubble of credulity partially deflated by evidence from token sceptics. He would then launch back into another bout of om-chanting with the unwashed of Oregon, and his faith was thus restored.
I must admit that Dyer had me fooled until his closing piece to camera, where, with all the sagacity this Essex boy done good could muster, he justified his faith…
“Where there’s belief there’s hope.”
Dozy c**t that I am, it was only then that the penny dropped, and it dawned on me that Dyer was taking the piss out of the viewers and everybody involved in the programme, monocled Mosleyite and BNP supporter included. Dyer should be presenting Newsnight, instead of arsing around with playground stuff such as this.
Massive respect, Mr Dyer. Fucking massive!