“They hoped I’d be pro-torture”

The BBC could not handle a right-winger against the Iraq war

How would we tell if the BBC were biased? The wrong way of doing so is the way used by the corporation's own executives and representatives. The BBC's staff are so enclosed in a world of left-liberal assumptions that they do not even understand the question. They think they are being accused of explicit support for the Labour Party, openly expressed in their output. They fend off accusations of partiality by saying (rather questionably, but that's another argument) that they are strictly neutral between Labour and the Tories. They once sought to prove this by removing Melvyn Bragg from the chair of Start the Week when they discovered (seemingly to their amazement) that he might be a Labour Party supporter. This possibility became apparent to them for the first time when he was made a Labour peer. Yet Bragg's elevation somehow did not stand in the way of his swiftly becoming the presenter of In Our Time. The BBC's dim inability to see how funny this is, or how far from the point, would itself be funny if its results were not so damaging.

I recall a few years ago a group of BBC staffers making what they thought was a killingly amusing satire - which they proudly showed at the Edinburgh TV Festival - on the idea of an impartial news bulletin, as allegedly imagined by conservatives. Since they had no real idea what a conservative is or thinks, the film was clueless, full of blatant right-wing editorialising and sycophancy towards an unnamed corporate boss.

Were I a multibillionaire, I could commission the proper research into nuance, tone of voice, who gets the last word, presenters' backgrounds, running order, drama, soap operas and cultural coverage, that would demonstrate beyond any doubt that the BBC is on the side of the cultural and social revolution that I and many other licence-fee payers oppose with all our hearts.

But I am not, so I shall rely instead on personal experience. I could, if there were space and I were nasty enough, list here many instances of the BBC's near-horror of the conservative person; its nervous need to allow them on, but its extreme difficulties in treating them fairly when it does; its refusal to let them anywhere near presenters' chairs (the seats of power) unless the audience is tiny. I would detail instances of its failure to understand what conservatives think, or to pay any attention to what they say - the current affairs producer who thought Melanie Phillips and I agreed about the Iraq war, and the researchers who called me up in the hope that I would make the case for torture, or for arbitrary imprisonment, spring to mind.

I could dwell on the assumptions of programmes such as The News Quiz and Have I Got News for You, which depend for their humour on the belief that everyone in the audience thinks (I encapsulate here) that socialism is basically good, that religion is bad for you and the monarchy is absurd. "Do you really think," a senior radio executive, apparently intelligent, once asked me with a puzzled frown, "that The News Quiz is a left-wing programme?" This was one step down from the presenters of current affairs programmes who would demand of me, when I was allowed on in an honourable but nervous attempt at "balance", questions that always began "Are you seriously saying . . . ?".

They could not believe that I, an educated human being of their generation, held the opinions I hold. They had never, in the course of their long and comfortable journey from their Oxbridge junior common rooms to White City or Portland Place, ever met anyone who did not share their assumptions, whom they hadn't also felt able to despise. Even worse, perhaps, was the knowledge that I was once on the left myself, though they are keener to acknowledge my Trotskyist period (obvious extremist, you see) than my long stint in the Hampstead Labour Party. That is not to say that they do not despise me, too, but I make it difficult for them by not being Nick Griffin, Alf Garnett or Geoffrey Dickens. Sometimes I make it so difficult for them that they stop asking me on at all - not because they disagree with me, but because they agree with me. During the Iraq war (with the significant exception noted above), my invitations to take part in radio and TV discussions shrivelled to nothing. Opponents of the war were good. "Right-wing" people were bad. I was "right-wing" and against the war. It did not compute, so I was dropped.

What troubles the BBC is not a party bias. On the contrary, the BBC is so powerful that it has now succeeded in converting the Conservative Party to its point of view, and rewards it with increasingly extensive and sympathetic coverage. It is a set of potent cultural, moral, social, sexual and religious assumptions, which touch on all topics from cannabis to the EU, and which affect everything from the plot-lines of The Archers to the use of the metric system on nature programmes. I cannot say how sad this is for the dwindling numbers of British conservative people who value the BBC as a national institution and do not wish to see it swept away. I wish it were not so.

Peter Hitchens writes for the Mail on Sunday

This article first appeared in the 31 August 2009 issue of the New Statesman, The next 100 years

Biteback and James Wharton
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“It was the most traumatic chapter of my life”: ex-soldier James Wharton on his chemsex addiction

One of the British Army’s first openly gay soldiers reveals how he became trapped in a weekend world of drug and sex parties.

“Five days disappeared.” James Wharton, a 30-year-old former soldier, recalls returning to his flat in south London at 11pm on a Sunday night in early March. He hadn’t eaten or slept since Wednesday. In the five intervening days, he had visited numerous different apartments, checked in and out of a hotel room, partied with dozens of people, had sex, and smoked crystal meth “religiously”.

One man he met during this five-day blur had been doing the same for double the time. “He won’t have been exaggerating,” Wharton tells me now. “He looked like he’d been up for ten days.”

On Monday, Wharton went straight to his GP. He had suffered a “massive relapse” while recovering from his addiction to chemsex: group sex parties enhanced by drugs.

“Crystal meth lets you really dig in, to use an Army term”

I meet Wharton on a very different Monday morning six months after that lost long weekend. Sipping a flat white in a sleek café workspace in Holborn, he’s a stroll away from his office in the city, where he works as a PR. He left the Army in 2013 after ten years, having left school and home at 16.


Wharton left school at 16 to join the Army. Photo: Biteback

With his stubble, white t-shirt and tortoise shell glasses, he now looks like any other young media professional. But he’s surfacing from two years in the chemsex world, where he disappeared to every weekend – sometimes for 72 hours straight.

Back then, this time on a Monday would have been “like a double-decker bus smashing through” his life – and that’s if he made it into work at all. Sometimes he’d still be partying into the early hours of a Tuesday morning. The drugs allow your body to go without sleep. “Crystal meth lets you really dig in, to use an Army expression,” Wharton says, wryly.


Wharton now works as a PR in London. Photo: James Wharton

Mainly experienced by gay and bisexual men, chemsex commonly involves snorting the stimulant mephodrone, taking “shots” (the euphoric drug GBL mixed with a soft drink), and smoking the amphetamine crystal meth.

These drugs make you “HnH” (high and horny) – a shorthand on dating apps that facilitate the scene. Ironically, they also inhibit erections, so Viagra is added to the mix. No one, sighs Wharton, orgasms. He describes it as a soulless and mechanical process. “Can you imagine having sex with somebody and then catching them texting at the same time?”

“This is the real consequence of Section 28”

Approximately 3,000 men who go to Soho’s 56 Dean Street sexual health clinic each month are using “chems”, though it’s hard to quantify how many people regularly have chemsex in the UK. Chemsex environments can be fun and controlled; they can also be unsafe and highly addictive.

Participants congregate in each other’s flats, chat, chill out, have sex and top up their drugs. GBL can only be taken in tiny doses without being fatal, so revellers set timers on their phones to space out the shots.

GBL is known as “the date rape drug”; it looks like water, and a small amount can wipe your memory. Like some of his peers, Wharton was raped while passed out from the drug. He had been asleep for six or so hours, and woke up to someone having sex with him. “That was the worst point, without a doubt – rock bottom,” he tells me. “[But] it didn’t stop me from returning to those activities again.”

There is a chemsex-related death every 12 days in London from usually accidental GBL overdoses; a problem that Wharton compares to the AIDS epidemic in a book he’s written about his experiences, Something for the Weekend.


Wharton has written a book about his experiences. Photo: Biteback

Wharton’s first encounter with the drug, at a gathering he was taken to by a date a couple of years ago, had him hooked.

“I loved it and I wanted more immediately,” he recalls. From then on, he would take it every weekend, and found doctors, teachers, lawyers, parliamentary researchers, journalists and city workers all doing the same thing. He describes regular participants as the “London gay elite”.

“Chemsex was the most traumatic chapter of my life” 

Topics of conversation “bounce from things like Lady Gaga’s current single to Donald Trump”, Wharton boggles. “You’d see people talking about the general election, to why is Britney Spears the worst diva of them all?”

Eventually, he found himself addicted to the whole chemsex culture. “It’s not one single person, it’s not one single drug, it’s just all of it,” he says.



Wharton was in the Household Cavalry alongside Prince Harry. Photos: Biteback and James Wharton

Wharton feels the stigma attached to chemsex is stopping people practising it safely, or being able to stop. He’s found a support network through gay community-led advice services, drop-ins and workshops. Not everyone has that access, or feels confident coming forward.

“This is the real consequence of Section 28,” says Wharton, who left school in 2003, the year this legislation against “promoting” homosexuality was repealed. “Who teaches gay men how to have sex? Because the birds and the bees chat your mum gives you is wholly irrelevant.”


Wharton was the first openly gay soldier to appear in the military in-house magazine. Photo courtesy of Biteback

Wharton only learned that condoms are needed in gay sex when he first went to a gay bar at 18. He was brought up in Wrexham, north Wales, by working-class parents, and described himself as a “somewhat geeky gay” prior to his chemsex days.

After four years together, he and his long-term partner had a civil partnership in 2010; they lived in a little cottage in Windsor with two dogs. Their break-up in 2014 launched him into London life as a single man.

As an openly gay soldier, Wharton was also an Army poster boy; he appeared in his uniform on the cover of gay magazine Attitude. He served in the Household Cavalry with Prince Harry, who once defended him from homophobic abuse, and spent seven months in Iraq.


In 2012, Wharton appeared with his then civil partner in Attitude magazine. Photo courtesy of Biteback

A large Union Jack shield tattoo covering his left bicep pokes out from his t-shirt – a physical reminder of his time at war on his now much leaner frame. He had it done the day he returned from Iraq.

Yet even including war, Wharton calls chemsex “the most traumatic chapter” of his life. “Iraq was absolutely Ronseal, it did exactly what it said on the tin,” he says. “It was going to be a bit shit, and then I was coming home. But with chemsex, you don’t know what’s going to happen next.

“When I did my divorce, I had support around me. When I did the Army, I had a lot of support. Chemsex was like a million miles an hour for 47 hours, then on the 48th hour it was me on my own, in the back of an Uber, thinking where did it all go wrong? And that’s traumatic.”

Something for the Weekend: Life in the Chemsex Underworld by James Wharton is published by Biteback.

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 31 August 2009 issue of the New Statesman, The next 100 years