Though you might not think so, there is a point to The One Show. As far as I’m aware, it’s the only show on British TV that invites celebrities onto its sofa then all-but ignores them or outright humiliates them for a full thirty minutes. Whereas your Lorraine Kellys, your Parkys and that T4 shower spend the time they have with these Gods of the Modern Age fawning and pawing over them, Adrian Chiles and the delicious Christine Bleakley are much happier pretending the likes of her off of Sex & The City, him out of that rubbish film or that twat from The Eagles aren’t there, or at the very least should be treated with barely-disguised disdain. This is a good thing.
The presenters blindside their guests with things a pampered and cossetted person couldn’t possibly be aware of. They bamboozle them with provinciality. When the presenters bother to talk to their special guests at all, they hoodwink the hapless boobs (especially the Americans) with reports on East Anglian bird sanctuaries, the lunacy of the fifth Duke of Portland, the variety of British potatoes on offer at country farmers’ markets etc…, then ask for their opinion on the bizarre film they’ve just watched. There’s something refreshing about seeing a famous movie star squirm on the sofa when asked for their opinion on water shortages in Lancashire or the best cooking apple to shove in a blackberry and apple pie. And best of all, they ask them these questions with the likes of Giles Brandreth, Carol Thatcher or an insane gardening expert from Solihull sitting next to ‘em.
Adrian: So, have you ever visited the house that inspired Toad Hall?
Jon Bon Jovi: What the fu …
Giles Brandreth: Oh, Johnny! You simply MUST go! You can imagine Toad racing along in his car, escaping the police! POOP POOP! Teddy bears! Jumpers! Prince Phillip!
Adrian: We were too poor to afford The Wind In The Willows in my house when I was growing up.
Jon Bon Jovi: What the hell’s going on?
Giles Brandreth: Tea with the Queen! Ratty and Mole! The changing of the guard! ENGLAND!
Jon Bon Jovi: HEEEELP!
It’s great. The celebrities almost always come out of the experience humiliated and confused. Even the plug they manage to get in at the end of the show is stunted and unenthusiastic, thanks to spending half an hour in a room full of lunatics. A case in point occurred last week when one of the hags from the forthcoming Sex & The City movie (which will be a giant pile of shit, by the way) was forced, almost at gunpoint, to eat chips by a mad banshee in a body warmer and wellington boots. By the time it came for her to publicise her film, a light had gone out in her eyes and she had been rendered all-but speechless (mainly because her mouth was stuffed with chips – the most food she’s eaten in a decade, I suspect). She’d been stoofered by Great British Eccentricity and it was a joy to watch.
And it appears the Demon Chiles and his cabal of insane minions can make anyone do anything they want! Fancy destroying the image of cool rock sophistication Robert Plant has built up for himself over the last thirty years? Why, invite him on The One Show and demand he sing the programme’s appalling theme tune in a bizarre falsetto voice! That’ll do it. Want to humiliate that leathery-faced Italian harridan who used to go out with Sven Goran Eriksson (and who likes to think of herself as a ‘fashion expert’)? Then make her incorrectly guess which handbags are fakes and which ones are genuine in a cheesy, last-minute exam she clearly doesn’t want to take. She was so humiliated at her televised failure, she began pleading that the test was unfair as Chiles talked over her and The One Show theme struck up. You simply don’t get that on Jonathan Ross.
I suggest you don’t see The One Show as a cheap piece of early-evening fluff in future. I suggest you watch it as I do: As a new blood sport that seeks out and destroys the reputations of the rich and famous. If you like your celebrities shining and bright and wonderful, watch that addlesome crap celebrity worship channel, E!
If, like me, you want to see these pompous bastards bloodied and bruised, then tune in every night to The One Show. When you’ve seen the pleading look in a celebrity’s eyes, when you know they’re thinking ‘Why me?’ as Brandreth shouts directly into their terrified faces, you’ll be bloody glad you did.