Revel Horwood’s Australian odyssey was strictly fabulous
Stalwart genealogy series Who Do You Think You Are? (BBC One), now on its 14th series, is such a winning format that you finish every episode feeling fond of its subject. Actor Danny Dyer’s royal odyssey last year was a Bafta-nominated triumph. Gregg Wallace and Amanda Holden looked almost human. Even the two Jeremys, Paxman and Clarkson, showed their softer sides. The show really needs to test itself next series. Could it make even, ooh, Piers Morgan, Philip Green, Katie Hopkins or Donald Trump likeable?
The latest celebrity to come out smelling of roses was Strictly Come Dancing’s panto villain judge, Craig Revel Horwood – infamous for drawling insults at hapless dancers and dividing words into three syllables (dis-ah-ster! fab-ew-lous! et-cet-era!).
The acid-tongued choreographer travelled to his native Australia to investigate how his forebears came to arrive in the southern hemisphere. When he shook his family tree, all manner of surprises tumbled out: convicts, financial woes, orphanages. He was aghast that his ancestors hailed from naff old Essex.
More happily, his three-times great-grandfather Charles Tinworth was an “Aussie battler” who survived bankruptcy during the 19th-century gold rush to eventually strike it lucky and become a millionaire. Best of all, his great-great-grandfather Harry Macklin Shaw turned out to be 1871 clog-dancing champion of Australasia.
Freed from his Strictly uniform of dinner suit-and-spats, Revel Horwood sported a natty line in pink leisure shorts and garish T-shirts. He called everyone “darling” and was palpably delighted to visit his “rellies”. “It’s the Queen Mother herself!” he cried at his blue-rinsed, centenarian grandma Phyllis. “Let me bow down before you!”
The old ham was left newly proud of his ancestors, appreciative of his home town Ballarat and tickled by that clogging revelation. This was – you’ll be ahead of me here – fab-ew-lous.
‘Iwant some me-time,” said 60-year-old Dorothy. “I want to walk around my house naked.” Who Wants My Council House? (Channel 4) was a property programme with a difference. And not just because of the stripping sexagenarians.
It’s five years since new laws made it easier for council tenants to exchange homes, provided they can find someone willing to swap. This voyeuristically entertaining film followed tenants seeking such a trade.
The underlying issue here – a shortage of affordable housing – was left as an unspoken subtext. Instead, we concentrated on human drama and downright nosiness, as strangers viewed each other’s homes and neighbourhoods. With no estate agents involved (sweet mercy), residents handled their own deals, leading to some awkward encounters.
Community worker Andy fancied swapping his Bristol flat with glamorous chiropractor Lorna’s pad in Poundbury – a Prince of Wales-backed eco-town which was picturesque but eerily quiet. “He looks a bit of a scallywag,” was Lorna’s verdict on Andy, declining his offer.
Dorothy, who is black, visited Royal Wootton Bassett to view “transitional life coach” Karen’s three-bed semi – an Aladdin’s cave of Buddha statues, dreamcatchers and cod-spiritual paraphernalia – but the mood soured when a passing white van man shouted racist abuse.
The star of the show was slightly batty Sarah, who’d moved into her Northolt maisonette as a temporary stopgap – and was still there 26 years later. Sarah liked her clutter-filled flat. Trouble was, she didn’t like the locals. “If I want to discuss a piece of beautiful music or a poem, they don’t know what I’m talking about,” she huffed, hilariously. “They don’t even know what Radio 3 is.”
Picky Sarah dismissed properties merely because the tenants put their loo roll the wrong way round on its holder.
This was Wife Swap without the shouting. Unexpectedly emotional, too. We heard about Sarah’s well-heeled heyday in Chelsea, Andy’s troubled childhood, and retired mental health nurse Dorothy’s big-hearted habit of taking in waifs and strays.
Sadly, a rushed and unsatisfying climax saw only one successful swap and no resolutions for the main characters – except Sarah, who opted to stay put and redecorate instead.
Even with the schedules swamped by property, food and dating shows, this was a promising one-off with potential for a full series. Shame it was let down by that damp squib of an ending.