I do think Ant’n’Dec (one word) are comedy gold. Ok, perhaps just the silver lining on I’m a Celebrity. Although this comment does come with a caution: I’m a woman incarcerated at home with small children, so lately my standards have slipped. I’m not painting any town red right now; watching it dry would be enough of a delight (just Farrow & Ball though. I have me pride). Root canal with an arthritic Dentist? Ooh, lovely day out.
I usually record I’m a Celeb and fast-forward past the slow-swallowing of Crocodile Cock Biscuits and onto Ant’n’Dec’s cheeky links. I EVEN know which one is which: Dec is the one with the big, intellectual forehead and Ant is the one who makes the other one look taller. Oh, hang on…
In any case, forgiving their sometime oafish side (‘How drunk were we, Dec, hey, hey’), they are the only hosts I can think of who look as if they are actually having fun — moreover, that television presenting may not altogether define them and their sense of themselves. Tomorrow’s News Headline: ‘Ant’n’Dec Are Actual Man Dolls, size as seen on TV. No, they seem alright.
In any case, for Gordon Ramsay — and any other delusional, potential-jungle-‘narstie’ contestants currently experiencing their careers already going Down Under — I have some really quite patronising tips below for you, in case you do attempt to revive your nose-diving fortunes by yes, nose-diving into next year’s programme. I understand these may have been pointed out before in spades, but NOT ONE OF YOU Z-CELEBS SEEM TO TAKE ANY NOTICE. Shouting, sorry.
1) Whenever someone is voted out of the group that you (bleep) hate, don’t be so effing (bleep) relieved. Within 24 hours, you will simply transfer this (bleep) hate onto somebody else. In fact! Ahem: Your reputed (bleep) hate is really about ‘that part of yourself that you love to hate’. Ah, I did say this was the psychological bit. The other person is representing your own repressed sensitive stuff that you shoved away down that dark Freudian corridor of your psyche years ago (Shaun Ryder), probably at that dark, craven corridor at school you (un)attended that, when you were there, taught you how to ‘smash’ people (I’m still not sure Shaun, gosh my giddy aunt etc, what exactly you meant by this). Hence, unless you come to terms with this part of yourself, you’ll always find someone to (bleep, bleep) dislike. Although saying that, Jungle Scream Gillian would have tried the patience of any passing Saint of Critters. There’s also a law regarding groups about a gap, once opened, being always refilled, but I’ll save that one. Actually there’s not much more to add; that was it.
2) You will also hate anyone new. Having formed Your Group (‘I Belong’), anyone who comes to YOUR GROUP after the beginning of the show is officially an Outsider (‘You Don’t Belong… Alison’) and to be viewed with insecticidal suspicion (see what I did there). I genuinely wonder why no one takes notice of this fact when asked to the do the show and ‘drop in’ — literally, usually tied to a plummeting balloon — after the narstie party has started? Do the producers say, ‘Don’t worry, you are such a BIG STAR, you’ll be like a trendy pre-Christmas pop-up fun shop, everyone will buy you and you will certainly NOT be voted out Day Three. No, that’s never happened… Seen the show before? No? Fab.’
3) Please. Don’t forget you are on camera, even when you whisper or are passing out herbal mix from the crotch of your knickers. I’m sure this has been ridiculed elsewhere in newspapers I no longer have time to read, but ‘Oh my’, all the same.
4) Would you want to be friends with you if you had to watch yourself 24/7? Nope, so don’t expect others to like you either. Mother Theresa, Stacey and that nice Charmaine blonde from Big Brother are clearly exempt from this remark, since the two Essex grrls are modern deities cast into the (constipated) bowels of Get Me Out of… TV by terrible mistake. Although saying that, polemicist journo Christopher Hitchens quite likes to demonise dead, Never Doing Reality Now Theresa for some reason.
I put that last bit in to reassure you (Ok, myself) that I don’t just watch a crappy phalanx — or just plank — of reality shows. I like to turn over occasionally to ‘Orrible Hitchens (cousin of Henry?) doing the bedtime story on Cbeebies. Now, there’s a thought.
5) We all like to pretend that we are ‘Nice’ and never say ‘Meene Stuffe’ about anybody, when in fact of course if anyone recorded our actual remarks and dodgy, unsubstantiated views (Ok, myself again), we’d be voted out on Week One; or rather Minus Week One While Still At Home Sewing Up Secret Herbal Pockets In Our Pants.
6) Strictly might have turned you down (again), but you are more likely to end up lampooned as a Limp Lembit in the press than Utterly Charmaine (charming, geddit. Forget it) after this show, so please don’t do it and Just Say No! (A slight mixed metaphor of TV references for you there, but you get the picture.)
Just to say: Best line of the series from Ant’n’Dec? ‘Now! Over to the Latest Celebrity Chest!’ Cut to Glamour model Kayla and her parvenu boobs in a bikini trying to pump her way into the keys to our hearts/her chest, I mean, the chest.
Yes, see? Comedy Gold.
Posted by Need Some Therapy