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The departure of John Humphrys, after 32 years on BBC Radio 4’s “flagship” _Today_ programme, has been marked by his colleagues (and to a lesser extent the nation) with suitable pomp. In

particular, Mr Humphrys has been praised as the Grand Inquisitor of shifty and powerful politicians. His last appearance was graced by ceremonial interviews with the former prime ministers

Tony Blair and David Cameron. As is so often the case with the BBC, the more leftish of the two had an easier ride than the Tory, but their appearance must have gratified the old warhorse as

he prepared to depart the field of battle for the last time. Although I like the man, and was handled gently on the couple of occasions, years ago, that he interviewed me on _Today_, I have

to say that Humphrys remained at his post for far too long. Like many other listeners, I found his constant interruptions irksome; but the counter-productiveness of his technique was

crystallised for me eleven years ago by a catastrophic interview with Alistair Darling, then Chancellor of the Exchequer.  This was a few weeks after the financial crash that began on 15

September 2008. The global economy was tottering, the UK was at the centre of efforts to prevent its collapse and the nation wanted to hear what Mr Darling — an intelligent, articulate and

level-headed man — had to say. No chance of that. John Humphrys had worked himself into a foam-flecked frenzy before the interview even began. Darling tried to answer the angry and

repetitive questions Humphrys hurled at him, but he wasn’t allowed to complete a sentence. It was not clear, in any case, whether Humphrys understood the answers. I, and I am sure most of

the other listeners, would have liked to know how the Chancellor proposed to tackle the crisis, but were prevented by his “inquisitor” from finding out. It was a waste of time. Journalism is

an egotistical and competitive trade, especially at the top. The Humphrys approach to political interviews is widely shared. On television, Jeremy Paxman, Jon Snow and Emily Maitlis are

three well-known presenters who have tended to be particularly aggressive to politicians. Doubtless they and others would argue that this is the only way to hold our masters to account. But

there is no evidence that public understanding has gained from this gladiatorial approach. Not all the BBC is like this. On Radio 4’s PM programme Evan Davis is a civilised, even gentle

inquisitor. And on Radio 5 Live, the presenters ask questions and listen to the answers before framing the follow-up question. Perhaps that’s because on Radio 5 they know they are serving a

much wider swathe of society than the media-savvy bubble around _Today_ and _Newsnight_. Back in the 1980s, I was astonished when I first listened to an interview of Mrs Thatcher on Radio

2’s Jimmy Young programme. For younger readers (if any of you actually listen to the radio), I should explain that this was the forerunner of today’s Jeremy Vine show. Mrs Thatcher was of

course a controversial prime minister, especially among the large majority of BBC staff, who saw her as a milk-snatcher, mass murderer and avowed enemy of the British working class.  But

Jimmy Young, or JY as he was generally known, interviewed her regularly and at length on his lunchtime show. The big names in BBC news would have regarded JY with condescension as a not

particularly hip disc jockey. But he prepared carefully for these encounters, treated the Prime Minister courteously and got far more out of her than any of the political professionals

would. One did not have to like or support Mrs T to learn something – often quite a lot – from these gentle interrogations. _Today_ has lost more than a million listeners – 13 per cent — in

the past two years. Perhaps the editor, Sarah Sands, who came to the programme from Fleet Street and may not be fully acculturated to the BBC and its ways, might ask her team to try a

different tack. “Always ask yourself, when a politician says he is going to tell you something in confidence, why is this lying bastard lying to me?” is a piece of journalistic advice

correctly attributed to my late father Louis Heren, a foreign correspondent and deputy editor of _The Times_. Jeremy Paxman was particularly fond of quoting it in his _Newsnight_ period.

Lesser hacks than Paxman seem to regard it as an encouragement to treat politicians with contempt. But for all the manifest failings of individual politicians, Louis Heren regarded politics

as potentially mankind’s highest calling. It’s time we remembered that.