There was a time, somewhere in the 1990s, when I honestly believed that the most important thing my mother did in the evening was sit down at 9:00 pm to watch the news.
Not at 9.01pm. Not at 8.59pm. Nine, on the dot, because that’s where the news started, because Sir Alastair Burnet had decided it was, and because the whole of the United Kingdom, including, by the looks of it, the entire Cabinet, seemed to be doing exactly the same thing. The world ran to one national rhythm, like a winding grandfather clock, and the timekeepers wore different suits and lived in a place called Wood Lane.
That beat is now completely dead, apparently, embarrassingly. And the people who do the burying aren’t teenagers living in a room in their pajamas smeared with TikTok. They are the very statistics that created the broadcast system in the first place.
Take Stephen Colbert. Forty-eight hours after CBS finally hit The Late Show with a corporate pillow, the network insists that this has nothing to do with the case, the integration of Skydance or the current occupant of the Oval Office, and we are expected to accept that confirmation with the value of the lettuce of Liz Truss, Colbert appeared on a public channel called Monroeccess Media. Then he appeared, more clearly, on his shiny new YouTube channel, with Eminem and Jeff Daniels in tow, racking up 120,000 subscribers in one weekend. There is no 11.35pm slot. There is no commercial break. No procession of Affiliate cross marketing channels. Just Stephen, the camera, and the most generous tip jar in broadcasting history.
A few months before, Piers Morgan completely left the Murdoch reservation, where I used to raise one worn eyebrow, but this man left a sum of £ 50 million on the table to do it. He called the TalkTV position a “straitjacket”. He has 3.6 million YouTube subscribers and a four-year deal that gives him ownership of his brand. Trump, Zelensky, Peterson, Ronaldo: all interviewed, not by the respectable British viewer at ten o’clock but by the worldwide congregation watching him in Brisbane, Boston and where he sleeps.
And while talent continues to flow out, institutions are quietly digging tunnels under the perimeter fence. The BBC, that wonderful, well-intentioned, well-intentioned monument to the license fee, is finally reaching a landmark deal to produce original shows for YouTube. Why? Because, sadly, YouTube has overtaken BBC One for monthly availability in this country. The organization that gave us Reith, Attenborough and Bake Off is now responsible for posting content on the same platform that hosts cats falling down. The license fee, it turns out, is not free.
Our statistics that are still making adults are very sad. Per Ofcom’s Media Nations 2025 report, British 16- to 24-year-olds now watch 33 minutes of broadcast television a day, of which almost 20 minutes are live; they spend an hour and a half on YouTube and TikTok. For the over 75s, streaming still accounts for 90 percent of home viewing. For a 16-year-old, it’s 19 percent. We are not looking at a gradual decline in the industry, as is often said. We are looking for his will to be read.
Across the Atlantic, Nielsen’s Gauge confirms that YouTube has now spent six months in a row as the single largest television distributor in America, larger than Disney, larger than NBCUniversal, larger than most cable companies combined. YouTube will earn $36 billion in ad revenue by 2024, more than all four American broadcast networks combined. The schedule, to put it simply, has been replaced by a search bar. The time zone is replaced by an icon.
The business lesson here is not “everyone should start a YouTube channel”. Please don’t do it. You will fail, disappoint your spouse and spend Saturdays organizing in your shed. The lesson, for those of us building businesses outside the M25 comment bubble, is more important than that. Ownership, distribution and audience relations are now the three things that really count, and the platform that delivers all three at the same time wins. Gary Lineker’s Goalhanger Ventures invests in creator-led media businesses because the old playbook, show, hand to broadcaster, hope, is worse than the new. The talent keeps the IP. Talent keeps the audience. Talent is increasingly a broadcaster.
The slot, that great totem of the 20th century media baron, was never about the viewer. It was about property, commercial breaks, satellite uplinks, union breaks, Carol Vorderman’s hairdresser. The viewer was looking for a show. They never wanted nine o’clock. And now, finally, they don’t have to take both.
Sir Alastair Burnet, sleep well.
