It was an ambitious scheduling decision to pit a brand new, largely untested, current affairs formula against the already clogged Thursday night news analysis roster. But forsaking my usual TV-dinner plans, which mostly involve a rant a frothing rightwinger on Question Time, I decided to tune in. The trailers had been great, laugh-out-loud funny I thought. The presenting quartet lauded as a dream team. "10 O'Clock Live will provide a fresh and unashamedly intelligent take on current affairs from a young perspective," said the commissioning editor, alluding to the obvious gap in the market for a show about politics for people of my generation. So why did I walk away from 10 O'Clock Live feeling let down?
Well, first, it failed to make me laugh much. Media commentator Charlie Beckett summed it up when he tweeted that it felt like "reading Twitter jokes a day late", and double entendres about Johnsons and Balls do have a somewhat limited appeal.
But it was not simply that the show failed to make me, or seemingly many other people, chuckle. Nor was it the occasional verbal slip ups, unavoidable camera mishaps or the fact that Lauren Laverne, the show's only female presenter, was mostly reduced to a sideshow for the main male event. It was the overwhelming feeling of being patronised and left even more confused about what the "young perspective" actually is.
When you reflect on the show's bulging items list, it's not hard to see why. We were taught how to dodge rioting Tunisians, question if we'd sleep with Sarah Palin, and wonder if whiter clouds were the solution to climate change. And we learned the "celeb" way to understand the Sudanese elections. An amusingly despectacled David Willetts, resembling more a life-sized Mr Magoo than someone "down with the kids", rehashed his now moribund line on tuition fees in an interview that was light on substance but heavy on populism, complete with pantomime audience cheers and boos.
In essence, 10'O Clock Live didn't offer much novelty to its younger audience but instead used the rule of thumb that most primetime politics shows adhere to these days: younger viewer means simplistic content. Take Jeremy Paxman's interview with Dizzee Rascal in 2008 that foundered on poorly conceived questions around the rapper's national identity and if he'd ever run for prime minister. Or This Week's bizarre idea that Dappy from N-Dubz would be able to articulate the thoughts of his generation on the importance of parenting.
What distinguishes a programme like the Daily Show from comparable UK offerings is its fusion of sardonic delivery with an original analytical line; the realisation that its younger audience can palate more than the most elementary of ideas. Can we honestly imagine, from last night's evidence at least, Jimmy Carr delivering a scathing, well-researched critique of a major news network's irresponsible reporting of the financial crisis, or David Mitchell soliciting a "Yes we can, but ..." moment from an interviewee?
But as is rightly pointed out here, these are early days for 10 O'Clock Live, there are 14 weeks to go, and the show is still finding its editorial line. I'll tune in again next week, but to keep me hooked I'd rather not have to think about shagging Sarah Palin.
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