Malcolm Barker: Stormy times ahead for BBC's weathermen

TWO of our great institutions have now been reduced, alas, to little more than Aunt Sallies and need to reach an agreement if they are to continue their present relationship.

The BBC's contract with the Meteorological Office is due for renewal, and the broadcaster has indicated it would be prepared to consider other contenders. Any shift would be a huge embarrassment for the Met Office, both financially and in terms of its reputation.

A replacement would presumably mean the disappearance from our television screens and radios of the 24 weather forecasters deployed to meet the BBC's needs, which are considerable. The broadcaster amply reflects our national obsession with the weather.

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We are accustomed to the appearance of such figures as Susan Powell and Dan Corbett on our screens, arms waving like water-weed in a swift current. Their predecessors go right back to 1954, and include such well-remembered names as Jack Armstrong, dignified and avuncular, lugubrious Bert Foord, and poor Michael Fish, famous – perhaps

unjustly – for mislaying a hurricane.

In Yorkshire, we have Paul Hudson. He appears soon after the Look North headlines for no other purpose, apparently, than to assure us he will be on again later, then disappears with a warm smile which seems at last to fade from view, like that of the Cheshire cat.

The organisation behind these familiar faces is vast, and costly. It comes under the aegis of the Defence Secretary, and, in 1996, became a "trading fund" required to operate on a commercial basis and meet performance targets set by the Ministry of Defence. There is a Met Office Board, chaired by Robert Napier, with John Hirst on 200,000 a year as chief executive.

Its public reputation has been hit by the prediction of a "barbecue summer" last year. Instead, we had a lot of rain, culminating in the catastrophic floods in Cumberland and Westmorland. Then came the promise of a mild winter, ludicrous in retrospect after January brought comparisons with 1947.

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Moreover, the Met Office appears to be taking sides in the great global warming debate, favouring the idea that humankind can somehow influence global temperatures.

Charles Moore, writing in the Spectator, suggests that its "warmist" propaganda is a bit rich coming from an organisation that seems unable to tell whether it will be hot or cold in a few months' time.

It would strengthen the BBC's hand in its contract negotiations with the Met Office if a suitable contender came forward. One possibility is Metra, formed when the New Zealand weather service was privatised in the mid-1990s.

Its British subsidiary, Weather Commerce, already supplies forecasts to supermarkets and high street stores on which they base sales

predictions.

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Another is Meteogroup, which already operates in eight European countries, and is mainly owned by the Press Association, a British organisation originally set up to serve regional newspapers.

Historically, Yorkshire had a pioneer of weather forecasting in Dr George Merryweather, born at Burley-in-Wharfedale in 1793. It would be interesting to pit the Met Office's 30m super-computer, Britain's biggest, with 15m megabytes of memory, against Dr Merryweather's Tempest Prognosticator, a weird and elegant device now preserved in the Whitby Literary and Philosophical Society's museum.

It would certainly be cheaper to run as it requires only a ready supply of leeches.

A more serious contender might have been William Foggitt, of Thirsk, whose oracular pronouncements on the weather earned him fame, if not fortune. Bill Foggitt had no truck with computers, basing his deductions on the behaviour of moles, frogspawn in a neighbour's pond, swallows, and other aspects of country lore. He could also draw on his family weather records going back to the early 19th century, when they were initiated by his great-grandfather.

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Bill's forecasts, often reported in the Yorkshire Post, had a great following. British Telecom even had a phone-in line offering "Foggitt's Forecasts". The English Tourist Board published 50 of his tips and he did a nightly spot on Yorkshire Television.

Bill, too, was low maintenance, his main requirement being a daily

input of good draught ale at his local, the Three Tuns. He died in

2004, aged 91.

For aviators and sailors, knowing what the weather has in store is vital. Following a severe storm in 1859, Admiral Robert Fitzroy (Fitzroy of the Beagle) set up 15 land stations which telegraphed regular weather reports to London, enabling forecasts to be made. He then inaugurated a system of hoisting cones at principal ports to warn of any impending storms.

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In February 1861, a fleet of collier brigs sailed from the Tyne in defiance of these signals. The result was a great catastrophe, with wrecks scattered along the Yorkshire shore.

At Whitby, the rowing lifeboat plucked men from a succession of wrecks, but was eventually overwhelmed, with the loss of all hands but one.

Admiral Fitzroy was placed in charge of the state meteorological service, the organisation that was to become the Met Office.

Its forecasts may dismay or delight, but surely we could not do without them, or a similar service provided by an adequate replacement.

We English love our weather. Whatever else would we talk about?

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