Selling the broadcaster to the highest bidder would silence a vital independent voice
Nothing about the time or the place I was brought up in imbued in me any affection for Margaret Thatcher or the government she led.
As a teenager in the 1980s, I watched in horror as my home town of Gateshead was economically devastated, the industries in which my grandfather and his ancestors had worked allowed to go to the wall. In the 1990s, I became one of the thousands who reluctantly submitted to Norman Tebbit’s sneering injunction to get on our bikes and move to where the work was, a migration south that I never sought and still resent.
