Jung would have had fun with the late Jimmy Savile, in particular his nightmarish resemblance to the various trolls and lubberfiends of Norse mythology; the strange, intimidating creatures who guard the gold and who have it in their power to grant arcane favours and make wishes come true, at least for those who dare approahc them in their unearthly grottos to beg favours.
There was always an odd edge to Jim’ll Fix It. At one level it was a power fantasy. The kiddies would write in with their outré yearnings. Jimmy, sat on his big red throne, casually dispensing the relevant favours. Then a medal would appear - as if by magic – from the depths of his thrones, and solemnly draped around the neck of the enthralled youth, while the parents, having been made to look thoroughly inadequate as providers in contrast to the magical powers of Sir Jimmy and his crack team of BBC researcher-gnomes, hung around grinning uneasily and shifting from foot to foot.
Good telly, as they say. The whole setup was comedy Wagner, and I’m sure generations of British kids grew up vaguely thinking that this is what happened when you voted.