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Although the television broadcast of Jerry Springer: Friday 4 February Morris, though, has never been a television personality in any recognised sense - as shown by his attempt, through refusing most interviews and photographs, to remain unrecognisable - and his most important contributions to his shows have always taken place in private, as a writer or the architect of nasty larks. The show, though, suggests that Morris's career is in better shape than those of the characters. The snorting young staff of Sugar Ape think it's smart to design a new logo in which the title of the publication seems to read as Suga Rape. While it's always possible with Morris that the second episode will contain a joke suggesting that the founders of the world's major religions ran a paedophile ring, the evidence of the opening programme is that this won't be the show that regains for him the title of the TV puritans' public enemy number one. The precedents for television performers withdrawing behind the camera are not good:

The torrent of complaints sent by the godly to BBC2 and the TV regulator Ofcom meant that Morris lost his official record as the most objectionable figure in TV history. He takes his own temperature as permanently cool, while anyone else's cultural thermometer would measure him as damp with embarrassment. Until Jerry Springer, the benchmark for protests against a single show had been held by Morris's Brass Eye Special on the subject of paedophilia, in which celebrities were duped into making ludicrous condemnations of child abuse, most memorably Phil Collins's declaration: