Comfortably Audible Bob

Back in the day, Whispering Bob Harris didn’t so much present The Old Grey Whistle Test as gently murmur it into existence. You had to lean into the telly, ear cocked like a spaniel, just to catch the man introducing Little Feat or muttering about “the real thing in rock music.” The nation sat in hushed reverence, not because the music demanded it, but because we couldn’t actually hear him. Whole generations of students assumed Bob’s real gig was narrating wildlife documentaries about dormice.

Fast-forward to Radio 2 and Sounds of the 70s. Whispering Bob is still there, but the whisper isn’t. He doesn’t exactly shout, but he’s not the monkish figure of old either. Now he projects. He enunciates. He sounds less like a man confiding in you at 2 a.m. and more like someone making sure the back row at the village hall can hear about the Doobie Brothers.

The irony is that the nickname stuck long after the style slipped. “Whispering” Bob these days whispers about as much as Brian Blessed orders a pint quietly. It’s like calling Nigel Farage an economist or Jacob Rees-Mogg a man of the people – the brand survives long after reality has moved on.

Still, credit where it’s due. The man is in his late 70s, his voice has carried him through half a century of broadcasting, and he still oozes warmth. If he whispered as faintly as in 1972, modern listeners would have Ofcom on speed dial complaining about their radios. Whispering Bob has become Talking Bob – and that, my friends, is progress of a sort.

Perhaps the BBC should update the billing. Not “Whispering Bob Harris” – more “Comfortably Audible Bob.” Has a ring to it.