Robert Shrimsley in the FT sees the funny side of the programme:

Panorama's Sunday-night special ... demonstrated how a single chance event - Andrew Gilligan being allowed to use the bar of the Charing Cross Hotel - could send a major institution into meltdown.

But actually it inadvertently set up another terrifying disaster scenario which one might term If Blofeld Took Over The Beeb. The programme was ostensibly yet another round of post-Hutton report breast-beating with a debate enticingly entitled "What is the point of the BBC?". This was a brave decision, for there are few more cast-iron signs of an organisation in turmoil than a decision to start asking self-searching questions like what is the point of us? In fact it's right up there as a sign of looming disaster with agreeing to participate in a fly-on-the-wall documentary.

Anyway, Panorama had gathered a hatful of media types to discuss Auntie's future. As with all such BBC discussions the panel had been nicely loaded to ensure that things never got too hairy. Only David Elstein, late of five, could be said to be seriously hostile to the corporation's perceived interests because he wants the licence fee scrapped.

Facing them all was Mark Byford, the acting director-general and leading candidate to take over from Greg Dyke. According to the profiles Byford is a clever, bluff, funny chap. In private he may be all these things. On television, however, he exuded all the bonhomie of a Bond villain.

Just to be clear here - I'm not talking about one of those flamboyant, charming but demonically evil Bond villains. Alas, Byford is the sidekick second-tier Bond villain - the silent humourless killer, the one who is smiles menacingly and dies unimaginatively 20 minutes from the end. Perhaps with practice he could work his way up to the moggie-stroking deadpan type, but on Sunday's performance he remains firmly in the Oddjob class.

His intention clearly was to show that the BBC was now in the hands of a hugely responsible chap still humble enough to take on criticism. But with his pudding-bowl haircut and gritted-teeth "no, no I'm enjoying this really" smile, he appeared halfway between Jaws and a jobsworthy railway safety officer explaining away a terrible train crash by reminding commuters that 99 per cent of journeys were completed safely. No matter what the criticism, he insisted that he accepted the point before going on to prove that he did not.

Most of the panelists' doubts over the Beeb were distinctly muted, but then again maybe they feared that they were sitting over a shark tank. No wonder so many BBC staffers view a Byford era with trepidation.

The most biting attack came from Sir David Attenborough, who lamented the preponderance of lifestyle shows and the lack of serious coverage of science, arts and the like. Byford, of course, agreed, adding only that the lifestyle shows were very popular and should continue. Byford's byword, it turned out is "quality". It doesn't matter how many facile, flaccid, derivative, pulp trashy pop-culture shows the Beeb airs, as long as they are programmes of "quality".

Quality is all jolly well and certainly should be a goal, but there are after all high-quality hookers who look beautiful, cost more and are presumedly less likely to give you the clap. They nonetheless remain hookers.