When November arrives so too do some of winter’s friends: flu, wet weather, cold hands and feet and I’m a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here. The first three in that list are tolerable, we’ve grown up expecting them – the latter is the unwelcome house guest who lingers beyond their welcome.
And so it is that the annual month-long torment in which every other magazine cover, every tabloid and every other chat show is dominated by the exploits of Jordan Banjo, Joel Dommett et al. It’s such a strange phenomena – TV shows made up of people sitting around desperately trying to cheat boredom, watched by people (in their millions) trying to cheat boredom!
Is there any change to the format of the show? No, not really. All the old favourites are there in terms of challenges and games and in time-honoured tradition the camp eye-candy (could be male could be female, who knows?) will strip to their non-sponsored designer swimwear to shower under the waterfall.
Why not Danny Baker ‘towel flossing’ after an invigorating dip? That would make much better TV than watching the not-so-bright young things cavorting.
This year’s crop of celebs are such an inoffensive bunch – there is not one Janice Dickinson-type among them! So the only conflict likely to occur in the camp is between the celebs, the insects and the elements. Fear not, though, Goggleboxer Scarlett Moffatt, who has swapped her position on a reality TV sofa for a reality TV log, has brought enough self-deprecating humour and honesty with her to counteract the Z-listers who arrived sans personnalité.
I’m a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here – Friday ITV at 9pm