What should be done about the BBC? I have a few ideas. Hopefully the BBC, which has its hands full, reporting on the BBC, will make the time to listen.

I come at this as a viewer who pays the licence fee. Always have done, always will, otherwise it’s those vans that come in the middle of the night to abduct you. I wouldn’t wish to be among the licence-fee “disappeared”. If the BBC wants to improve and become great again, here’s what a viewer thinks it needs to hear.

Hang on to Claudia Winkleman, whatever the cost. Give her what she wants and also a puppy. Bob Mortimer and his “pocket meat” must be on the next series of The Celebrity Traitors and also, one hopes, Mary Berry, who has terrific fart-in-the-hut potential.

• Traitors’ Joe Marler: I got £30k. We weren’t all paid the same

Pep up Antiques Roadshow with some honest talking. “It’s worthless, clear off.” “I’ve kept the box … It’s in mint condition.’’ “And I’ve got a lot of other crap to appraise before lunch.” “I’ll never sell it. It’s of great sentimental value.” “Cry me a river, elderly lady. Cry me a river.”

As for The Repair Shop, you must never splice together two different bits of what the teddy lady says to make it look as if she’s inciting violence, because that would be deeply unprofessional, abhorrent and unforgivable.

Ditch BBC3 and BBC4. You don’t want to attract young people. They piggyback their parents’ licence fee and never pay their way. If you want to “disappear” them, feel free, and it’ll save me from having to collect the mugs from their room.

Concentrate all resources on the two other channels and iPlayer. Never call time on Sambre: Anatomy of a Crime on iPlayer. This French true crime drama is the best exploration of sexual violence (and its aftermath) that there’s ever been. Everyone should watch it.

When Jeremy Clarkson comes to you, pay attention, and don’t say: “This farming idea is not for us, loser, but good luck elsewhere.” Get it into your thick heads that “pregnant people” are “women” and stop with the gaslighting. Keep David Attenborough, obviously, but might there be less predation? Don’t show me a baby leopard if it’s about to become toast. I can’t bear it. And no more seal pups swimming close to the shoreline. You need to put a stop to that.

• Andy Wilman: how I survived being Jeremy Clarkson’s best friend for 50 years

Make programmes shorter and dispense with the padding. Fake or Fortune?, the art provenance series, can be seriously interesting but I think we all know Fiona Bruce isn’t spending hours poking about in archives and libraries.

Don’t hand documentaries over to Hamas nepo babies if it can be helped, which it probably can. Bring back Blue Peter and that elephant. Ban “celebrity travelogues”. Put Keeley Hawes in everything or, failing that, Sheridan Smith or, failing that, Sarah Lancashire.

Don’t discipline an actual woman, who has a uterus and cervix and everything, for an eye roll. Keep firing creeps, but be sharpish about it. Dragon’s Den and The Apprentice are so tired they can barely sit up. Get rid. Never wind up a show with: “We don’t have time for the red chair this week.” There must always be time for the red chair. Get Stacey Solomon to come sort my life out. I’m around next Tuesday from 3pm.

What else? Don’t lie to us. Only Alan Carr can lie and we’re OK with it. If you can’t revive Poldark, could you at least give us topless scything elsewhere? Gardeners’ World would be a good fit.

You could slim down your over-the-top Glastonbury coverage by, say, cutting out any antisemitic rants. Just an idea. If you f*** up, say so, and learn from it, instead of going: “Boo hoo, it’s just that everyone is out to get us.”

Never call time on Pride and Prejudice (the Colin Firth one) on iPlayer as that’s an annual watch and please, please do something about Jane Eyre (the Ruth Wilson one), which has vanished (it’s on next week — Ed). But, most importantly, give Winkleman whatever she wants, and a puppy, and a weekly subscription to Freddie’s Flowers, plus it may be wise to arrange a monthly delivery of British cheeses. Neal’s Yard would be good for this.

AI errors? These are the best

As we fear AI, and the loss of a human in the mix, you may find it consoling to know that ASR (automatic speech recognition, which is powered by AI and converts speech into written text) isn’t there yet. I have made a study of this in recent weeks, while watching TV, and have been compiling a list of my favourite errors.

Let’s begin with “neurodivergent”, which became “new old virgin”. That is something to think about. Can you be a new old virgin? How would that be possible? I am not deaf but, if I were, what a confusing world it would be.

“Morris dancers”, meanwhile, is now “Maurice Dancers”, and I have to say, I took to Maurice straight away. I don’t know why, but in my mind’s eye I saw him as firm but fair, much beloved by his funny little troupe and their jangly bells. Maurice can bring his dancers round mine any time.

“Narcissist” became “Nazi cyst” — I wouldn’t be sympathetic if a Nazi had a cyst — while
“camomile tea” became “Come on me old tea”. That does sound as if it could be a bona fide cockney expression. “Come on, me old tea, let’s cheer you up and go to the dogs.” Or: “Come on, me old tea, put your skates on, we’ll be tardy for the bingo.” However, I think my absolute favourite so far is “angioplasty”, which became? “Angie O’Plasty”. As in: “Good afternoon, Mr O’Plasty, and is this your lovely wife, Angie?”

I don’t know about Mr O’Plasty’s forename, but could it be Herni? Or Mamm? Have you spotted any you’d like to share?