Games for a laugh have chaotic charm
BEHOLD,THE silly season has arrived early, dressed in a snug-fitting Lycra running suit and budgie smugglers. I give you The Games (ITV, nightly), a celebrity “talent” competition, somewhere between It’s A Royal Knockout and a parents’ race at your school sports day.
The opening “ceremony” was a picture, as young dancers tumbled about in gold Bacofoil outfits to warm up the audience for presenter Freddie Flintoff who lolloped into the stadium in the longest run of his life without a cricket ball in hand.
He was joined by Holly Willoughby in a bowling partnership surely conceived over a boozy ITV lunch. They were perched on a narrow bench at Crystal Palace athletics stadium, along with Olympian Denise Lewis – a bit of class for this event – and a “Youtube star” called Yung Filly. I need to spend more time online.
As time went on – there were 90 “live” minutes to fill on Monday – they were joined by heavyweight legend Tyson Fury, a booking which must have had the producer hanging over the “bleep” button. Alas, the evening passed without incident, more’s the pity.
Although at the close of the show, Willoughby said “sh...are Harry Potter stories”. Thought it may have been something far ruder. Not our Holly, surely?
It was the sort of programme where you think, “This could be a lot better you know….” only to realise this event, where celebrities do their worst in athletics or belly-flop into a diving pool, relies on its chaotic charm, although some competitors were more intense than others.
It’s meant to be a harmless piece of fun but no one told actor and reality star Ryan Thomas who was desperate to do very well in the hammer throw. His next booking may depend on it, after all. Even slightly smugger – if possible – was former Love Island beau Wes whose two cousins just happen to be Olympic athletes. Hang on… did anyone tell the others? They might have suddenly remembered they’d booked a hair trim on the day. Wes won the 400m with a grin as wide as the local radio mast was tall.
One of the celebrities who attracted more attention than expected was Josh Herdman. Who? Only Goyle from the Harry Potter franchise! He was one of Malfoy’s minders and sent Strictly’s Kevin Clifton – Kevin from Grimsby! – into an unchoreographed fanboy moment, calling the “snitch” a Quidditch “ball” when any viewer under the age of 30 knew better, and corrected him immediately. What would we do without a television to shout at?
I was raging at the TV during Britain’s
Top Takeaway (BBC Two, nightly) over eight nights. What was this doing on the BBC which, as a public service broadcaster, spends countless hours and licence fee payers’ cash trying to make us healthier? Health boffin Dr Michael Mosley must have thrown his Fitbit out of the window.
Of course, fish and chips, the first round of the competition, is healthier than most “takeaways”, as long as the fish isn’t battered and you pass on the chips.
I can’t wait for future rounds, on the Big Mac, KFC and Dominos. Indeed, the only people who will profit from this are Uber Eats, Just Eat and Deliveroo who will receive a surge in orders during this
tea-time show. Well done, BBC. We look forward to Britain’s Fattest Family.
I commend Playgrounds Of The Rich And Famous: St Tropez (Channel 5, Monday) because frankly I knew nothing about this little resort in the South of France! Since the 1950s alas – and helped by such luminaries as Brigitte Bardot and Dame Joan Collins – sun-worshippers and rose lovers, the programme told us, have descended on the jammed seafront, where now you can barely squeeze in your 50 metre yacht.
And there was salient advice: “If you want to get rich, hang around with millionaires.” I’m off to buy some deckshoes and a sleek pedalo!
When you read this, the UK might have been saved the ignominy of nul-point in Eurovision (BBC One, Saturday).
Or not. I warmed up the TV set with a BBC Four semi-final, a chance to see the real no-hopers before elimination. Presented by Scott Mills, left, it was delightful. We saw a singing vegan dressed in green (in case you missed the message) from Latvia.
Alas they were always bound for the chop with a song title of Eat Your Salad.
But going through to the Grand Final was the wonderful Moldova – who could use a boost right now – with the best song about trains since The Seekers’ Morningtown Ride. The only thing that would have made it better would have been if train buff Michael Portillo had conducted it in
a pink sports jacket.