Thirty years ago the Today program was unpredictable to the point of chaos with presenter Jack da Manio improvising and thinking aloud, always eager for a joke or a prank. Through the studio trooped a procession of English eccentrics a man who ate light bulbs, another who ate spiders, a chap who was touring the country leapfrogging all the pillar boxes, a hard-headed individual who could play Rule Britannia by hitting himself on the head with a nine-inch spanner and many others. Talking dogs and singing cats were almost commonplace. By the mid-70s, however, Today had got to the point where, for example, it had on one morning Libby Purves making the first 'live' radio broadcast from China, someone else in Dublin covering the pope's visit, another presenter in Margate where the Liberals were conferring, and an anchorman in London. When you have reached this stage, there is no room for talking dogs, and humor and whims have to be confined to odd corners. Despite its more serious approach, however, Today has somehow retained its character and its tone of voice. And being a live, high-risk program, it can still go horribly wrong. Only recently an eminent doctor launched into a lengthy on-air harangue against the production team and refused to listen to the questions he was supposed to be answering. Such things can always happen and so can studio rows, sometimes even involving the presenters. There was a memorable spat not long ago when a rattled Nigel Lawson accused Redhead of being a well-known supporter of the Labor Party. But rows or no rows, Today is where the ministers and would-be ministers want to be heard. As Brian Redhead is fond of saying: 'If you want to plant a word in the nation's ear, come on Today.' His other favorite remark is: 'We set the agenda for the day.' Both statements are true of a program with a steady weekly audience of 6 million easily the largest on Radio 4. Before the 1970s, the Today program used to be quite a______.