IT seems making a complaint about something on the BBC is de rigeur in 2008. If you haven't found anything that's annoyed you, you've either got the sensibilities of a Barbary ape or you haven't looked hard enough.

And if nothing sufficiently appalling leapt out at you in your chosen viewing, various helpful media sources can offer stomach-churning obscenities you missed. Maybe you'd already judged you might not enjoy the content, but no matter. You pay your licence fee – don't just sit there tutting, get dialling! If you can't necessitate some paperwork, you're not living.

Something offended me, and I did nothing. It was Frankie Boyle on Mock The Week having a pop at Rebecca Adlington's looks. It wasn't just a local girl loyalty thing. In my view, it wasn't funny, or fair; she's a teenage girl, put in the public eye thanks to spectacular achievement, and never invited scrutiny of her appearance.

I exercised my viewer-power with the off switch and the issue was satisfactorily resolved without recourse to Ofcom. Because while I thought Boyle was an idiot, what he said didn't merit censorship, and this crucial distinction seems to be imperilled.

Unfortunately, the Jonathan Ross-Russell Brand affair (what a thought) has given a sense of empowerment to the moaning tendency.

Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells and I Couldn't Believe My Ears from Little Barking are being accorded real importance, as if they've already toppled two of the biggest stars in the Beeb's firmament and woe betide the next loose-lipped figure they set their gimlet sights on.

It's important to separate the readily-shocked minority from the less insulated majority who also thought Ross and Brand were gratuitously unpleasant and deserved penalty.

Manuelgate wasn't just another piece of risqué broadcasting, it crossed a very specific line: directly targeting the object of ridicule.

Panel shows tear into all sorts of people, but you never see anyone whip out their iPhone and say: "Let's see if they're in!"

There's no need for a witch-hunt audit of all incidences of vulgarity on the box, because there are plenty, and in an open, democratic society, there will be and should be.

Headlines at the weekend bellowed that Little Britain USA had been deemed "obnoxious," with 400 complaints lodged. This is a fraction of the 4.5 million who watched, note.

Media watchdog, er, Mediawatch, did some growling and snapping.

Director John Beyer said: "I'm not surprised that they've had quite a number of complaints. It's not my favourite viewing and some of the sketches I've seen are in poor taste. I hope that the BBC will consider having a public consultation about taste and decency. They should be considering how these things get on air in the first place."

What was it about the spontaneous vomiting, granny fondling and adult son-motherly love of 'Bitty' in the original Little Britain that led Mr Beyer to expect good taste?

I imagine it got commissioned on the basis that not every comedy show has to pass the 'suitable for the whole family on Christmas Day' test. What a grey world if they all did.

If you're petty enough to object, you have to be specific about precisely how and why it was horrifying. The 'Gym Buddies' in Little Britain USA were the principal offence, apparently.

The sketch involved Matt Lucas and David Walliams in bodybuilder bulked-up body suits with tiny dangly appendages, the gag being, they were acting macho but not much blessed.

I would suggest if this horrifies you to the point where you think others shouldn't be allowed to giggle at it, you are sillier than a miniscule latex weiner.

Time to tactfully turn the volume down on the nitwit cacophony.