Jim Davidson: Comedy is no longer a laughing matter

http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2013/jan/06/jim-davidson-arrest-standup-comedy

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When I was a kid, you knew where you stood with comedians. There were two simple teams to choose from.

If you were under 45, you dismissed old comics as racist, sexist and creepy, all drunken wife-beating and second-hand gags. You thrilled to a new generation of writer-comedians who joked from the heart and didn't even have wives.

If you were over 45, you despised the new generation of leftwing, smart-arse standups who were always rude and never funny. You yearned for the lovable family comedians who used to unite the nation, before TV was taken over by leftwing, smart-arse producers obsessed with people like themselves.

It wasn't so long ago, was it? I was firmly on Team A. There were posters of Mark Steel and Denis Leary on my bedroom wall. I wanted to be Jo Brand (and managed it, insofar as I had a very similar wardrobe). I went to the Edinburgh fringe, sometimes to watch comedy, sometimes clumsily to perform it, but never to waste my time with anything trivial such as theatre or music. I adored Alan Davies, Stewart Lee and Bill Hicks, but was suspicious of Eddie Izzard because he didn't seem very political. When he came out as a tranny and wore tights on stage as a statement, I felt much more comfortable.

So how am I finding myself, today, feeling nostalgic for Jim Davidson?

I mean, Jim Davidson was the worst. Not just the king of objectionable, old school and (to our ears) bigoted comedy, he really did hit his wife. Jim Davidson wasn't a Bob Monkhouse or a Les Dawson, caught in the crossfire of cultural change but lovable and hilarious when you grew up and realised it. Jim Davidson was awful. We were right to hate him.

Yet, today, I am genuinely sad that Davidson has lost his chance to return to TV in Celebrity Big Brother, after being arrested at Heathrow airport on the eve of filming.

In passing: what exactly is the remit of "Operation Yewtree"? It was set up to deal with allegations against Jimmy Savile. Then they started arresting other famous people, not all of whom even knew Savile but we assumed (in some cases, wrongly) that they were accused of similar things. Now it's Jim Davidson, with allegations from 25 years ago that the police say are "not directly linked to Savile" and apparently involve complainants who were in their mid-20s at the time of the alleged events.

So: no Savile and no child abuse. Why is Operation Yewtree in charge, then? Who are they, the Celebrity Crime Unit?

And why did they arrest him at Heathrow airport? He's not a jewel thief on the run across international borders. OK: he was about to do a series on Channel 5, which may be an even more effective way of disappearing completely. But he would have been evicted very soon. Couldn't the police have gone quietly to his house?

By the definition that is vital to our justice system and way of life, Jim Davidson – not charged with anything, let alone found guilty – is an innocent man, who was not expecting to be arrested. Why the dramatic swoop at a crowded airport, in front of hundreds of people? That would be cruel and humiliating if he were an accountant, never mind a well-known entertainer. Much loved? No. Very recognisable? Yes.

So far, Operation Yewtree seems to have arrested (without charge) a lot of people who are well-known but not much loved. The first door they knocked on belonged to Gary Glitter. We have yet to see them arrest a cool, respected rock star. I suppose this must mean that, 25 years ago, no cool rock stars ever went near a minor.

We might all ask questions about the precise agenda at Operation Yewtree. The biggest question might be: are similar resources, energy and urgency being directed into investigating abuse that's happening in care homes today?

But, assuming Jim Davidson's innocence, he still seems ghastly; why does it feel like a shame that he lost his TV comeback shot? I think I miss the simplicity of the old days.

Comedy in-fighting has been raging lately, as ferociously as it did in the 1980s. Jackie Clune railed against James Corden and Jack Whitehall for rude remarks on the Big Fat Quiz of the Year. Billy Connolly went one better and lambasted all "Channel 4-type comedy people".

Both made reasonable points but failed to explain why any comedian would attack another in these newly censorious days, when the job's already done daily (on anyone who says anything) by a vast, anonymous internet and reported by a delighted tabloid press. I'm not sure there's room for nuanced disagreement in the ranks of the free-speech team.

Our era's spirit of disapproval has triggered a widespread blandness and terror of challenging consensus, in everything from mainstream political discourse to the ordinary workplace, which makes the comedian or jester's traditional duty to shock and shake up more vital than ever. Haranguing them for shocking in the wrong way might be a luxury we can't afford.

I think I wanted to see Jim Davidson on TV again because I miss the certainty of really knowing which side to be on. The comics of the 80s never called for the old guard to be silenced; they just wanted noisily to disagree. It was fun.

Many people were glad to see the old sod's comeback scuppered, by any means necessary. Others think Jack Whitehall and James Corden should be professionally ostracised for their off-colour stuff on Channel 4 the other night.

Meanwhile, in Egypt, the comedian Bassem Youssef is facing jail after gluing a photo of the president to a pillow and doing sarcastic impressions. Be careful what you wish for.

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