BY the sounds of things and the amount of arm-folding going on in that camp, Matt Hancock’s £400,000 jaunt to the Australian jungle hasn’t met with universal approval.
An understandable reaction, given Parliament isn’t even in recess.
But, jeez, if there’s one thing that’s far more grinding than the man himself, it’s the pompous indignation his booking has prompted from fellow camp-mates, politicians, journalists, comedians and TV presenters desperately chasing an audience, like Steph McGovern, Susanna Reid and “fuming” Loose Woman Denise Welch, who claimed she’s so disgusted: “I’d go in the jungle for nowt and do an hour with Matt Hancock.”
Do an hour of what exactly? I hate to think.
I guarantee you though, it wouldn’t be as damning as the mere sight of the former Health Secretary wearing a red gilet bearing the legend: “Matt 09020 44 24 . . . ”
Nor would watching him give evidence to Parliament’s health and social care committee (as if any of them would) be half as revealing or entertaining as Matt Hancock singing Ed Sheeran’s Perfect to comedian Seann Walsh as they mentally prepared to undergo the Beastly Burrow challenge.
Such is the simple genius of I’m A Celebrity . . . Get Me Out Of Here!’s format and the show’s brilliant hosts Ant & Dec, who could not look happier to have escaped that mood-hoovering Welsh castle for their spiritual home in Australia.
Just for once as well, ITV has produced a line-up entirely worthy of the setting and the hosts’ talents, where everyone seems to have a role, right down to Hollyoaks’ Owen Warner, who may make Peter Andre look like Melvyn Bragg but he endeared himself to me from the moment he asked Sue Cleaver and Boy George: “What are your names?”
Even from the word go, however, two control freaks really stood out from the rest.
One was DJ Chris Moyles, who’s very obviously not coping well with his diminished status or playing third fiddle to Ant & Dec.
The other, even more obnoxiously, was Boy George, the world’s most disagreeable Buddhist, who’s never more than two minutes away from chanting himself into his next hissy fit.
You promise the earth though, you have to deliver, and much as I was enjoying the Boy George/Charlene White tension, there was something obvious missing right up until the “Doctor Livingstone, I presume” moment when Matt Hancock introduced himself to Seann Walsh, whose reaction could not have been more perfect.
“Matt Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha,” he just about managed to gasp, through tears of laughter, before swearing.
“Matt Haaaaaaaaaargh. Matt Hancock! MATT HANCOCK? MATT? HANCOCK?”
If Seann was thunderstruck by the appearance of West Suffolk’s MP, it was quite clear Hancock wasn’t entirely au fait with his new friend either, as he actually asked him: “Have you always been funny?”
Not until about 30 seconds ago, he hasn’t, Matt. However, by the time Matt’s solemn chat about his bid to become Prime Minister was interrupted by the flashing nose of a gigantic plastic mole, which went off with a “WOING WOING WOING” noise, I swear I hadn’t been this helpless with laughter watching the television in years.
It’s one of the funniest TV things I’ve ever seen, in fact.
It’s a sad fact of modern life though, that wherever there is laughter there are now also half a dozen busybodies trying to put a stop to it, and it was no surprise at all the three biggest fun-sponges in the camp were Chris Moyles, Charlene White and limelight-craving Boy George, who lied through his teeth when he said: “I don’t know if I want to be here now.”
Charlene White needs to know, of course, that playing the “serious journalist” card is a bad look when you’ve got your name and a phone number on your back, just as setting yourself up as the show’s moral policeman/victim is a terrible one for Boy George, who’s the only person in that camp who’s served a prison sentence for false imprisonment and assault.
The self-righteousness of neither will help Matt Hancock and his arse-covering ego unravel in that jungle.
He’ll do that all by himself, with just a little help from the public and a few more sublime updates, like this one from Ant & Dec, the show’s undisputed masters of ceremony.
“18 months ago, Matt Hancock was in the Cabinet, liaising with the Prime Minister, running his own ministerial department.
“Now? He’s sitting on a log with a giant toy mole with a flashing nose, having just rinsed a load of cockroaches out of his bum crack.”
Do yourselves a favour, I’m A Celebrity . . . Get Me Out Of Here!, ITV, tonight, 9pm. It may never be this good again.
Lookalike of the week
THIS week’s winner, obviously, is Matt Hancock during the Beastly Burrow trial and a Minion. Sent in by Andy H.
Picture research: AMY READING
Queens a bit of a drag
OVER on ITV’s new RuPaul rip-off show, a drag mentor called Asttina Mandella gave Mr Motivator the once-over in his brand new corset before making this bold declaration: “I’m thinking Proteina Turner.”
A generous assessment, as I was thinking “Chaka Sickie” in my more charitable moments and “Urethra Franklin” at all other times.
One of six grotesques to haunt Queens For The Night, a real reach-for-the-Rennies enterprise where the dragged-up likes of Joe Marler, Simon Gregson and Adam Woodyatt died horrible light entertainment deaths, having first muttered some empty woke platitudes about homophobia, bullying, toxic masculinity and the importance of “being free to be who you want to be”. Which sounded like the only bit of good news all night.
For, strictly between you and me, I’ve always secretly longed for the freedom to shed this dour, middle-aged exterior and emerge as the old curmudgeon who points out that, Dame Edna aside, drag is television’s lowest form of entertainment and isn’t just demeaning to the men involved, it’s also grossly insulting to every woman on the planet.
But I sensed that wasn’t really the sort of freedom they had in mind.
No amount of passive-aggressive browbeating, though, could ever convince me Queens For The Night wasn’t the worst show of 2022, or the addition of a blonde wig, tights and a Lady Gaga soundtrack made Love Island’s Chris Hughes look like anyone other than a very convincing Erling Haaland.
Come the merciful end, however, host Lorraine Kelly announced Corrie’s Steve McDonald was the winner and said: “This is only the second character Simon has ever played. How do we think he did?”
Top three, Lorraine. Just.
- CHANNEL 4, Monday, 10pm: 1966: Who Stole The World Cup? The linesman did. Next?
Unexpected morons in the bagging area
CELEBRITY Mastermind, Clive Myrie: “Which metallic element has the chemical symbol Cu?”
Amy Tapper: “Cows.”
Clive Myrie: “What informal word for a small child is also used for the young of a goat?”
Amy Tapper: “Infant.”
The Chase, Bradley Walsh: “What UK capital city is close to the Firth of Forth estuary?”
Andy: “London.”
(As approved by TalkSPORT’s Andy Jacobs)
Great sporting insights
ANTON FERDINAND: “You need to know where your team-mates are without even knowing.”
Scott Parker: “The one thing you want is talent, quality and real intelligence.” Glenn Murray: “Arsenal could do with the break to give them a rest but they could do without the rest.”
(Compiled by Graham Wray)
TV gold
THE White Lotus remaining the most brilliant, funny and beautiful show on television (Sky Atlantic).
Match Of The Day’s tribute to Hereford United legend Ronnie Radford, who’ll make football fans smile for ever.
Toby Jones’s performance in BBC2’s very right-on Western The English, which really should be called Woklahoma. All of Gary Neville’s dressing-room bravado and Twitter arrogance vanishing in the time it took Ian Hislop to call out his breathtaking hypocrisy over Qatar, on HIGNFY.
And Jimmy Carr’s I Can See Your Voice advice being brutally interrupted by host Paddy McGuinness. “If it was my money . . . ”
“It’d be in the Cayman Islands.”
Random TV irritations
STRICTLY Come Dancing egomaniac Anton du Beke over-scoring everyone in his desperation to be liked.
P***-taking BBC News reporter Justin Rowlatt snorkeling in Sharm El-Sheikh to demonstrate global warming.
David Stirling’s limp magically disappearing 31 minutes into episode two of SAS: Rogue Heroes.
Boy George failing to point out the more likely explanation for choosing Scarlette Douglas as his jungle VIP was their shared agent.
And Channel 4’s Lost In Scotland And Beyond taking a sublime view of Loch Lomond and then obliterating it with the half-naked, farting bulk of Miriam Margolyes and her 46G mega-wongs having a massage.
Both high road and low road should remain closed, indefinitely.
