Intellectual Sandpaper

I listen to the James O'Brien programme on LBC a lot and rarely miss an episode. 

O’Brien is like intellectual sandpaper – he rubs away at the varnish of certainty until all that’s left is the raw, splintered wood of contradiction. His style is deceptively gentle: he leans in, asks a question or two, pauses – and then suddenly the caller realises they’ve wandered into a bear trap baited with their own words. It’s like watching a magician who doesn’t pull rabbits out of hats but pulls hypocrisy out of people’s pockets. No wonder both the right and the far left loathe him: he keeps proving that slogans don’t survive contact with logic.

The right hate him because he does what no Tory MP, GB News pundit or Reform leaflet can withstand – he checks the receipts. “Take back control?” O’Brien asks who lost it in the first place. “Stop the boats?” He points out the Home Office had been under Tory rule for over a decade. Cue red faces, stammering, and accusations that he’s a “woke lefty.” 

The far left dislike him just as much, because he refuses to indulge in utopian fantasy either. Try calling in to announce the coming workers’ revolution, and you’ll get the same treatment: calm questions until your glorious five-year plan sounds like a Facebook comment thread. His crime, in short, is refusing to join the cult of comforting nonsense. And that makes him, to zealots of every stripe, the most objectionable thing of all: a man armed with reason and a microphone.

He runs his show less like a debate and more like a cross between a courtroom and a therapist’s office – except the witness ends up cross-examining themselves. His strategies and tactics are pretty clear once you listen for the patterns:

• The Gentle Hook. He starts softly, letting callers lay out their case without interruption. It feels safe – until they realise they’ve just laid the rope he’ll use to tie their argument in knots.
• The “And Then What?” Test. O’Brien loves pushing beyond the slogan. Someone shouts “just deport them!” and he calmly asks: how? which countries? what treaties allow it? Within two questions, the caller is drowning in the logistics they never considered.
• Weaponised Consistency. He has a forensic memory for what politicians actually said and when. He’ll quote a minister’s own words back at a caller, forcing them to face the gap between their belief and the record.
• The Moral Mirror. Instead of ranting, he nudges people into hearing themselves out loud. That moment when someone stumbles over explaining why “my immigrants are fine but yours aren’t” is O’Brien gold.
• Patience as a Trap. He doesn’t shout, he waits. Callers often unravel simply because the silence obliges them to keep talking – and that’s when the contradictions spill out.
• Ridicule without Rage. When it’s time to puncture pomposity, he does it with wit rather than fury. A raised eyebrow in his voice is deadlier than a rant – it lets listeners laugh at nonsense rather than feel browbeaten.

In short, his tactics are all about guiding people to demolish their own position, live on air. It’s courtroom logic mixed with pub-banter timing – which is why he’s adored by those who like reason, and despised by anyone who prefers their beliefs unexamined.