How To Be Wrong

Because the need to be right will send you mental

I got a call this week from a broadcaster who wanted me to take part in a discussion about the war in Ukraine. That’s right, me, Sam Delaney, the semi-anonymous podcaster, West Ham fan, former gossip magazine editor and suburban dad. They were going to pay me to express my opinions on the biggest geopolitical crisis of our times. It was the easiest fifty quid I ever said no to.

The world is full of way too many opinions and the last thing I want to do is add mine to the disgusting mix. Rolling news and social media means that every fucker in the world has the ability - and, even more worryingly, the inclination - to express their hot-take on everything. This can be dispiriting at the best of times but at a time like this is can get really depressing.

The fact that a legitimate outlet would want to fill air time with the completely irrelevant viewpoint of someone like me is a shameful reflection of where public discourse has sunk to in this country.

I should say that, in the past, I spent many years being a gob-shite for hire on various TV and radio outlets doing just this sort of stuff. I was a whore, willing to comment upon almost any news story, anywhere and at any time. From the BBC’s Today programme to Lorraine Kelly’s morning sofa jamboree - and organs of various credibility in between - the sound of me offering my luke-warm takes on everything from politics to pets was an unwelcome background noise for several years.

But then I stopped. The reason was that the game changed. It used to be that I could say something daft or facetious or flippant about a news story and the producers seemed perfectly satisfied. It wasn’t earth-shattering, game changing insight they were looking for. It was a bit of chatty relief from the more serious and boring business of actual news reporting. Real opinions were left to experts or at least brainier journalists than me.

But then- probably around the time of the Brexit campaign - things changed and all us pundits started having to have big, mental, argumentative positions on everything. Whimsical opinion was no longer enough. Counter-intuitive convictions and combative invective were the order of the day. I didn’t have nearly enough of that stuff in my locker so I realised that I could either start to contrive passionate, militant and slightly barmy opinions or just stop insulting everyone’s intelligence and gracefully withdraw from the arena of hate.

I chose the latter. Or perhaps people just stopped asking me onto their shows because I was just too wishy-washy? Probably a bit of both.

One thing I’ve noticed about the madder, more aggressive opinions you see online and on-air is that they are disproportionately expressed by men. The world seems filled with furious fellas determined to have their opinions heard and agreed with. There is an angry, spittle-mouthed need among so many older blokes to be right about stuff all the time. Where does that come from? Maybe it’s because they got so used to their gender putting them on a pedestal for so long. And now they’re struggling to come to terms with the fact that their perspective is subject to the same scrutiny and scepticism as anyone else’s.

It must be fucking exhausting to give so much of a shit about how seriously you are taken.

Being okay with being wrong is so liberating. I sometimes get angry or frustrated in my personal life. Friends, family or colleagues might not appreciate my point of view or say something that upsets me.

What I find helpful is to always reflect on arguments with the thought ‘what was my part in that?’ It doesn’t mean that I always put myself in the wrong. It’s just an acknowledgement of the fact that I can’t control what other people say, do or think so it’s pointless stewing on any of that. I can only control my own conduct. And anyway, there is absolutely always some way in which I really was wrong.

Bill Bernbach, the Godfather of modern advertising, was said to have always carried a piece of paper in his pocket that read: ‘Maybe he’s right.’

Whatever happens, the best part of arguments is the bit where you get to say sorry afterwards. Once you’ve realised the part you played in a disagreement, it’s great to go back to the other person and apologise. It never means you’re taking all the blame. It just means you’ve got the intelligence to understand what really happened and the bollocks to admit it. That takes strength. I must have said sorry three or four times this week after various trivial disagreements. It’s a fucking great feeling, I can tell you.

Maybe that cunt Putin should take note.

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This week’s pod with Rupert Taylor

Rupert is a community stalwart, Grenfell hero and football club founder. He started Grenfell Athletic to help survivors of the 2017 tragedy to heal. Now the club are thriving on the field and saving lives off of it. I think Rupert is an absolute legend and I loved talking to him for the pod this week. Listen here.

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Some services, links and phone numbers to help you through the tough times

https://www.samaritans.org/ Tel 116 123

@calm 0800 58 58 58

@YoungMindsUK 0800 018 2138

@CharitySane 0300 304 7000

https://www.alcoholics-anonymous.org.uk/

https://cocaineanonymous.org.uk/

https://andysmanclub.co.uk/

https://www.nhs.uk/live-well/healthy-body/gambling-addiction/