Ed Cumming A clucky streak

At tomorrow night’s Oscars, the official ‘social-media ambassador’ and red-carpet correspondent will be Amelia Dimoldenberg, a funny, self-deprecating 30-yearold British woman. Red-carpet gigs do not come bigger. Dimoldenberg’s appointment, ahead of a pack of more famous broadcasters, marks the latest high point in a remarkable trajectory that has seen her do similar work at the Baftas and GQ Men of the Year Awards. It is a credit to her talent and determination, and proof that charm is still a key British export.

It is also a testament to the power of chicken. Dimoldenberg has built her career off her web series Chicken Shop Date (her Youtube channel has more than 2.2 million subscribers). The premise is that Amelia is looking for love. Sitting across from her celebrity interviewees in a high-street chicken shop, as they eat nuggets and chips, she sounds them out. The persona is deadpan, or ‘refreshingly awkward’ as her tagline describes it. Sometimes she is flirty, sometimes she is looking for advice.

The joy of the format is that stars know not to take it too seriously: everything is protected by an armour of irony. Chicken Shop Date is a haven where famous people can prove they are jolly company without the threat of a nasty interrogation. The chicken is a vital component. Chicken shops are democratic and utilitarian. Nobody looks pretentious in a chicken shop. Chicken is friendly to halal or kosher diets. It is high in protein. You might struggle to get a weightconscious actor to eat a pizza or a Cornish pasty on camera, but nobody minds a bit of chicken. Those who don’t eat meat can have vegan nuggets or chips. Louis Theroux, Jennifer Lawrence, Ed Sheeran, Big Zuu, Paul Mescal, Daniel Kaluuya, Cher: all have submitted to a date. Chicken with Dimoldenberg is fast becoming part of the liturgy for celebrities in Britain.

One chicken-based programme might be an accident, but America has its own take with presenter Sean Evans. In his Youtube series, Hot Ones, celebrities consume progressively spicier wings. As in Dimoldenberg’s show, the set-up is a clever way to avoid a more confrontational style of conversation. Wings are ubiquitous in America: they are a neutral thing to eat in a way that caviar or foie gras, say, are not. The spiciness provides a talking point as well as a way for the cosseted darlings to prove themselves. Michael Caine fought in the Korean War; Paul Rudd and Lorde can handle some capsaicin. Vegan wings are available. Actor Sydney Sweeney went viral for her recent appearance, in which she was provoked into a smile that was beatific even by Hollywood standards.

The triumph of chicken in interviews reflects broader trends. Western consumers are still switching to chicken over more expensive meats. Last year, it was the only meat to enjoy a rise in volume sales in the UK, according to The Grocer, with customers moving away from whole chickens and towards cheaper cuts: the legs and wings being foisted on the celebrities. They are just like us after all.

Recently, Dimoldenberg interviewed Evans in a kind of poultry publicity crossover.

‘If I hear the word chicken, I will turn around,’ she said.

‘I recognise it more than my own name at this point,’ he replied.

There is no escaping publicity chicken. It doesn’t matter which side of the road you are on.

Chicken-based interview shows attract A-list celebrities – including Sydney Sweeney, left – as well as millions of viewers