PETER HITCHENS: I have recently discovered that the BBC has banned me from Desert Island Discs for life. This is the reason why... and what I'd pick

By PETER HITCHENS, COLUMNIST AND COMMENTATOR Published: 01:00, 2 July 2026 | Updated: 01:27, 2 July 2026 Is there a minor celebrity in Britain who has not daydreamed about being on BBC Radio's 'Desert Island Discs'? I certainly have. Huge fame is obviously not essential any more. Given that I've never heard of many of the people who get asked on, I'm certainly famous enough – though I may have harmed my chances by not joining Soho House or one of those in-crowd showbiz world clubs. I have revised my playlist of eight records many times, in readiness for the imaginary call from Broadcasting House. I laughed a lot at the scene in Tom Stoppard's play The Real Thing, in which a character agonises over what he will choose when summoned. Can he still have the respect of his academic peers if he picks 'Da Doo Ron Ron'? Might it be wiser to stuff his list with respectable classics and a pretentious book? Well, I needn't have worried. I have recently learned that the BBC has honoured me much more deeply, by banning me from the programme for life. You may have seen, in Michael Ashcroft's new biography of Nigel Farage, the Reform Leader was vetoed as a guest, by the mysterious thought police high in the BBC who decide such things.  Well, what I must call a 'source' has recently told me that the same decree applies to me. This isn't just the normal dim BBC prejudice against 'Right-wing' persons, or anybody associated with the Daily Mail. That operates at a lower level and has been growing more intense for years. The people who ran the Radio 4 programme 'the Moral Maze' wanted to have me as a panellist back in 2001.  I was even given a few try-outs. But when these dried up, I was told that I had been vetoed at the top. I used to be a fairly frequent guest on the Radio 4 flagship news programme 'Today', but was dropped soon after I failed to show sufficient respect to Professor David Nutt, famous for his liberal views on drug legalisation.  Peter Hitchens said he would probably choose five Bob Dylan songs if he appeared on Desert Island Discs as they have been the background noise to much of his life Something similar happened on BBC 2's Newsnight after I failed to bow to the wisdom (again on the issue of drugs) of the Friends star Matthew Perry, may he rest in peace. I tend to think I showed more concern for poor Mr Perry, who died tragically from drugs he took, than many of his hangers-on. Hilariously, I was told that I could not present another programme called A Point of View 'because I was a columnist'. I revealed to the people who said this that nearly all the existing presenters (Lefties almost to a woman) were also columnists. I laughed at them. They were not amused. But the Desert Island decree is based on something deeper than boneheaded political prejudice. The view is that my very presence on BBC premises would be so disturbing to many staff that it would itself be an issue. Many would believe that the studio had become an unsafe space.  In fact, I have often felt sorry for the young trainees who have had to collect me from reception and lead me, before the gaze of their appalled colleagues, to whatever studio I was bound for. The poor things have had to be polite to me and get within a few yards of me. Do they have to go through some sort of exorcism afterwards? The smattering of genuinely impartial men and women who could once be found there is now almost all gone, though not quite. Old-fashioned impartiality, the type that still struggled on in to the 1990s, properly carried out, would nowadays be a major human relations problem. So I am not just wrong, not even merely bad, but personally offensive and unacceptable. Interestingly, my actual opinions on major subjects no longer matter at all. My severely Left-wing views on motor cars, trains and bicycles, for instance, make no difference. I probably oughtn't to hold them, as it might get such opinions a bad name. I am personally at fault, an outcast heretic who, if he will not have the decency to go away and die, ought to be locked up. I have been accused on social media of 'riding my bicycle around Cambridge in a fascist, racist way'. Oddly enough, I think I know what they mean – wrong posture, wrong sort of bike, wrong clothes, wrong facial expression, no helmet, too old. It is doubly irritating to them that I should be a Net Zero sceptic and a cyclist. Doing the right thing, to them is far less important than thinking the right thing. But now I must provide the list of records, plus one book (apart from the Bible and Shakespeare) and one luxury item, which I shall never be asked to do in real life. Here goes: I could probably choose five Bob Dylan songs, as these have been the background noise to much of my life and I can sing some of them by heart, but have settled on Tomorrow is a Long Time because it is so mysterious and so beautiful and so full of regret, as we all must be. Peter clashed with the late Friends actor Matthew Perry over drug addiction on Newsnight in  2013 I stopped listening to most popular music around 1969, when my life was changed rather abruptly by a road accident. This is partly why I choose Farewell, Farewell a very sad song of loss and pain, sung by what was left of Fairport Convention after they were involved in a bad crash in that year. It also came at the end of the sunny 1960s dreamtime, from which I woke about then, realising that what had seemed like a garden was in fact a jungle.  Next comes the glorious 1929 recording of Purcell's Nymphs and Shepherds, made in the old Free Trade Hall by a choir of nearly 300 Manchester elementary schoolchildren, accompanied by the Halle Orchestra and conducted by Sir Hamilton Harty. It can still be heard clearly through the veil of time, though none who sang that day can still be with us. I think it is about the most English thing I have ever heard, and if it doesn't bring tears to your eyes, I am sorry for you. I'd also like to throw in Purcell's Rondeau from his suite Abdelazer, because I know nothing which lifts the heart so high and so fast. If you wanted me to do anything dangerous but worthwhile, then you should make me listen to that first. Then let us have Gustav Holst's 1913 St Paul's Suite, especially the finale, a reminder of the spirit of the world which we lost so utterly in the 1914-18 Great War. I would also want The Banks of Green Willow, composed by George Butterworth, not long before he went off to die in the trenches of the Somme in 1916, along with most of the best of every part of our society. Out of all the works of Handel, that impossibly great man, I'd choose the last two minutes of the overture to his oratorio Solomon. And to finish, I'd pick the incomparable second movement of Beethoven's seventh symphony. I may not know much about music, but I know what I like. For my luxury I'd like a solar-powered fridge to keep my fish and coconuts cool, and a collection of the Sherlock Holmes Short and Long Stories. Now do you see what you're missing, silly old BBC? The comments below have not been moderated. The views expressed in the contents above are those of our users and do not necessarily reflect the views of MailOnline. By posting your comment you agree to our house rules. Do you want to automatically post your MailOnline comments to your Facebook Timeline? Your comment will be posted to MailOnline as usual. Do you want to automatically post your MailOnline comments to your Facebook Timeline? Your comment will be posted to MailOnline as usual We will automatically post your comment and a link to the news story to your Facebook timeline at the same time it is posted on MailOnline. To do this we will link your MailOnline account with your Facebook account. We’ll ask you to confirm this for your first post to Facebook. You can choose on each post whether you would like it to be posted to Facebook. Your details from Facebook will be used to provide you with tailored content, marketing and ads in line with our Privacy Policy.