I’m A Celebrity Get Me Out of Here! Series 7, ITV1

by | Nov 30, 2007 | All, Reviews

I’m A Celebrity… Get Me Out of Here!, ITV1

The I’m A Celebrity… chart sponsored by Fern Britten’s paroxysm of tearful mirth and the phrase “When you were in the jungle…” that still haunts Tony Blackburn like the Hound of the Baskervilles

1. Janice Dickinson. Lying on her bedroll under the oppressive scouring TV lights, she haughtily scowled: “I don’t eat crocodile!” But given the taught leathery ambience of her skin, this abstinence hasn’t prohibited her from skinning the reptile and weaving its scaly hide into her crumbling visage.

She has offered most of the entertainment in the first few days and tops our chart for her acerbic and most satisfying riposte to Ant’s bland platitude that she had made a “decent try” at fishing stars from a tub of gunk. “Decent?” she squawked. “Let’s see you try it, Junior!”

Most likely to say: “I’ve never watched this programme.”

Event she represents in human evolution: All the bloody wars started by irascible despots getting out on the wrong side of bed one morning.

Contractual obligation: To be completely unaware that she’s appearing on a TV show and that people might be watching.

2. Rodney Marsh. Showed off his arse in the Bush Telegraph, which resembled pustule-ridden buboes that John had greedily stuffed in his mouth hours earlier. Seems far more afraid of losing to women than death.

He also does little to debunk the theory that footballers are morons with his astonishing aphoristic gem of sagacity in working out what Grave Danger was about. “I think,” he confided to Katie, “it’s something underground.”

Most likely to say: “Women are only good for breeding, housework and stripping.”

Event he represents in human evolution: The vein-bursting outrage of golf club members when they are forced to admit women members, and their frantic, flustered protestations that all the women will do is gossip and take 18 hours to 18 holes because they will need to tend to their knitting and breastfeed their children.

Contractual obligation: To make people think that Margaret Thatcher wasn’t all that bad.

3. Katie Hopkins. After Ant & Dec warned that “after the break lines will be closing” for viewers to vote on whom they wanted to condemn to Grave Danger, there was just enough time before the break to show Katie being pompous and nasty towards Lynne. She may as well have crawled into the coffin there and then.

Most likely to say: Anything so long as each and every sentence contains the words “I” and “Me”.

Event she represents in human evolution: The self-centred delusion of medieval scholars who believed the whole universe span obsequiously about the planet, each star doffing its cap when it fell under the baleful stare of Mother Earth.

Contractual obligation: To infect the concept of the notion of ‘I’ and ‘me’ with such repugnance, incensed mobs with teeth chiselled into gummy stalactite daggers will burn dictionaries in the street because they contain these two septic words.

4. Cerys Matthews. Despite efforts to concoct a ‘romance’ between her and Marc by the producers, Cerys is likely to be this year’s Diane Modahl. “Everyone’s really friendly,” she cooed.

She beat ‘J’ in the physical challenge of hitting keys with old men’s walking sticks, but her incessant pleasantness, which is as odious to ITV1 producers as grave robbery will mean she will be stitched up as boring by the end of week one.

Most likely to say: “Everyone’s so nice and we’re all having a great time!”

Event she represents in human evolution: The simmering hope of two nations ravaged by conflict as their warmongering leaders meet to draw up a lasting peace accord.

Contractual obligation: Be the unwitting stooge whom the real conniving scum on the show can emotionally prostitute to deceptively present themselves as lovely and kind: “I just love Cerys, she’s so adorable, but I can’t stand Lynne/ Janice/ Anna!”

5. Marc Bannerman. This year’s everybloke who will get on well with everybody, call everybody “mate” but whose usefulness will peak on about day eight and will then become a liability.

Also said: “Snakes (Rock)! That’s perfect for them; they’ll slither in and want to mark their territory. So God knows how that’ll go down!” Perhaps the lack of food was making him delusional, but to stereotype five individuals with the stereotypical traits of snakes because of a silly, arbitrary name given to them by some creatively-barren TV producers is idiocy on a par in believing that Brussels sprouts give you Aids.

Most likely to say: “Katie Hopkins? How does she get around? By leapfrogging her aunts?” “Marc Bannerman? Who’s he? Some bloke who’s the offspring of a flag and bloke?” Or if he had a knowledge of Greek mythology: “Janice Dickinson? What’s her perverted game? Is she the reincarnation of Jocasta with a fetish for strap-ons?”

Event he represents in human evolution: The invention of text messaging.

Contractual obligation: To show scientists that if they want to start cloning people, the simplest, most basic forms of mankind can be found at closing time in pubs sharing 97.4% of their DNA with Formula 1 car engines.

6. Gemma Atkinson. She seems to be capable of a limited number of emotional states. “Lynne and Janice are both outspoken people – which is brilliant!” Why is it brilliant? “Outspoken people” lead to conflict, jealousy, selfishness, mutilation and death.

Most likely to say: Nothing at all. She could lose the power of speech and she would still have been signed up ahead of Right Said Fred.

Event she represents in human evolution: A nuclear bomb exploding in the Bikini atoll, as when she donned a bikini she at once became utterly obsolete for the producers – her work is done.

Contractual obligation: To appear in a bikini.

7. John Burton Race. Has a face that casts expressions like a rusty drawbridge swinging monotonously open and shut on the castle of some rotund baron as his flabby, complacent horse-crushing legion of knights trots out to oppress the local countryside.

Words crawl out of his mouth like children being saved from a burning building; first one is carried to safety then another a few seconds later – “Completely terrified. Dry mouth. Terrified,” he spluttered before his bungee-jump from a helicopter 1,000 feet (“Two-thirds of a mile!” he helpfully informed Marc as if the lumbering actor had trouble fathoming out how high 1,000 feet actually was).

He then managed to insult half the population after Anna’s jump by saying: “I can’t think of many women who’d have done that.”

But he also seems to have compassion for his fellow man on a par with a Gestapo officer: “It’s dog eat dog. I have no sympathy with Snake Rock.”

Most likely to say: “Women beating me. Terrified. Women.”

Event he represents in human evolution: The King’s horse in the 1913 Epsom Derby trampling a suffragette into the turf.

Contractual obligation: Over the period of his jungle sojourn for his eyes to slowly metamorphose into a haunted graveyard.

8. Anna Ryder-Richardson. If she feels her career is on the wane she can always get a job as an ITN newscaster as she has a talent for exaggerating the mundane and unthreatening into harbingers of the apocalypse. The bungee jump was “definitely, definitely, definitely the scariest thing I’ve ever done. Definitely.” We can picture her now standing beside Mark Austin as they muse that a child sneezing in Matlock could signal the return of the Black Death, and that Derbyshire must be firebombed to contain the contagion.

She also employs the insecure women’s term of affection “babe”, something which is only spoken by people who have to pick up their brains from the dry cleaners’ each morning.

Most likely to say: “That was definitely, definitely the best/worst/ most horrid/ most enjoyable/ most boring thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

Event she represents in human evolution: The rootless mystery of why, in any slight mishap, some women feel the need to start screaming even though this will do nothing other than to make potentially the last moments of their neighbours’ lives even more miserable.

Contractual obligation: Weep at the drop of a hat and position herself so the cameramen can get a real good close up of her distress.

9. Lynne Franks. A walking advert for the justifiable genocide of all humanity. A disciple of ‘spirituality’, which is often no bad thing. It is however, more abhorrent than a fascist verruca when the belief is not only adhered to but disseminated a soulless capitalist who seeks enlightenment as an empty penitence for their savage, salacious pursuit of fame and money. Coercing Gemma into her half-baked ideology, squatting in the camp spouting guttural nonsense like a dyslexic kettle, she indoctrinated Gemma into her hideous cult. “it’s just about having a focus,” she simpered.

As the two camps prepared to merge she proclaimed: “We can show the people of the UK men and women can live together in total harmony and equal power.” This shows what a pioneering show I’m A Celebrity… is, as all over the UK men and women watch from separate residences separated by barbed wire patrolled by eunuchs armed with Kalashnikovs in the hope that a big-gobbed woman who does PR (essentially lying to enhance the profit margins of clients) can bring prove that an artificially wrought situation largely governed by the whims of TV producers can effect real social change in our country.

Most likely to say: “Karaya, gujkiaze, loartmanap, nazwquierty, masckplotikin.”

Event she represents in human evolution: What really happened when Moses tried to part the Red Sea and led thousands of people to their death by drowning based on a delusion forged by his monstrous ego.

Contractual obligation: By day 14 to have become Kurtz at the Heart of Darkness and to have John’s decapitated head on a pole above her bed.

10. ‘J’. It’s quite apt that this fraction of a person should only have a fraction of a name. Wears an permanent expression on his face like a vacuous windscreen on a once lavish motor that has since rusted into near-obsolescence waiting to be wiped down by a cleaner at some traffic lights on the way do deliver samples of driveway grit to a posh part of town.

The only thing he can say: “Big monkeys’ bollocks/testicles!”

Event he represents in human evolution: The moment cavemen starting hitting one another over the head with clubs.

Contractual obligation: To award everyone else some comparative intellectual credibility.


The Coming Out Show 

Did we like it?

As they were evicted one by one, the angels entreating to be readmitted through the Pearly Gates of famedom went about their business in a perfectly natural manner being tracked to the very bowels of their soul by one or sometimes two camera crews who relayed this truthful documentation of their post-jungle lives to the viewers.

What was good about it?

• Marc Bannerman’s (ex?)-girlfriend Sarah who reasonably pleaded: “We’ve been together two and a half years. I can trust Marc.”

• Of the loved ones who appeared, J’s dad, Anna’s husband and Christopher’s partner made favourable impressions.

What was bad about it?

• The inhuman joylessness of the celebrations and hugs staged for the benefit of the watching cameras; mindless adoration was tossed about like confetti, hugs were administered with all the warmth of flu jabs, while declarations of love were handed out as if the rare affection in camp had suddenly been multiplied in a puppet mimicry of Jesus’ miracle of feeding the five thousand.

• Joey, a friend of Janice: “Janice has no edit button, so it’s completely honest and completely real.” Honesty                is only a worthwhile and laudable virtue when it is enforced with the boon of intelligence and integrity. Janice was bereft of both, and to excuse her because she “has no edit button” is to exonerate her because she more resembles a film editing suite than a human being.

• After three weeks of focusing on people who possess a talent so small that it has been observed under microscopes being bullied by germs, this programme featured on an even less charismatic bunch of people – the ‘celebrities’’ loved ones.

• Working in reality TV clearly erodes the mind’s ability to form rational coherent sentences. A producer said: “Sarah literally left last night. Literally, you’ve fallen in love.” ‘Literally’ seems to have been snared by the British Moron Party as a word that will be inserted to breathe life into each of their dreary enunciations, no matter how much of a linguistic barbarity it may be.

• The way in which the celebrities felt duty-bound to share their innermost thoughts with an anonymous camera crew.

• Marc shaking off his human skin and wrapping up warm in a coat of trusty clichés in order to explain his perceived unfaithfulness. “I can’t look for a scapegoat. The buck stops here.”

• Marc wandering around the hotel room he was to share with Sarah after his eviction, stumbling across clothes she had laid out for him which were kindly left in that pathetic fashion by the production team, so he generously bemoaned her departure as if mourning the dead.

• The way in which the evicted celebrities only reminisced about their time in the jungle once the cameras had finished being set up by the production team, or that personal moments were captured audibly by their still-attached microphones while they considerately expressed their feelings in tabloid headline-size platitudes.

• Katie’s first vocal fist of bombast when she was being driven back to the hotel was to make a menu wishlist that consisted of food and drink that was so middle class the waiter will probably arrive at her table in a 4×4 wearing sunglasses on his head.

• The number of reunions between ‘great friends’ who were so eager to meet up once more that they waited for a couple of camera crews to be ready so the view from without and within the hotel room could be captured along with all the genuine, brimming mutual fondness.

• John’s inability to stop talking about how much he loathed Lynne to the point when he resolved not to “give her any more column inches” by endlessly talking about not talking about her.

• Lynne’s partner John about why he missed Lynne’s eviction: “I woke up in the early hours with stomach pains, and by the time I’d got back to sleep I’d slept through it all.”

• Lynne’s visit to a market full of, she claimed, people like her, “hippies”. But whether any of the “hippies” spend their days working in PR spending tortuous hours composing words in an order so they most resemble a dagger is questionable.

• Rodney’s daughter Joanna, who was also a gullible acolyte of the credo of ‘Honesty=Truth”. “Dad speaks the truth; he speaks his mind. He’ll never be a hypocrite.” A little while later Rodney and Lynne hug in the hotel lobby, and he assures her that their bickering is “forgotten”. On a fishing trip with John, Rodney strikes a self-vomit pose when talking about the hug.

Luke Knowles

Luke Knowles

30/11/2007

Editor of the website and host of the podcast. A general TV obsessive. I've been running the site since 2008 and you can usually find me in front of the TV. My Favourite show of all time is Breaking Bad with Cracker coming a close second. I feel so passionately that television can change the world and I'm doing my little bit by running this site. You're Welcome!

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