There are far better things Matt Hancock could do to seek forgiveness than go on I’m A Celeb, and far better things we could all be watching on TV, writes Angus Peter Campbell.
I tried my best to ignore Matt Hancock on I’m A Celebrity.
Much the same as when someone lets off a bad smell in your presence, it’s often best to pretend it’s not happening. Except, it is, and, unlike some involuntary flatulence, it really matters.
Because, the more I try not to read about his screenwashing activities in the TV jungle (which, at the end of the day, is commercial entertainment and image-making), the more other images come to mind.
I see myself standing by the roadside watching a friend’s funeral hearse going by. We all stood there, heads bowed, because we were unable to be with the family in church or accompany them along to the graveside to pay our last respects.
And there is that other great public image of the Queen sitting all alone in St George’s Chapel, at the funeral service for her husband.
These images, and realities, are ours because, as best we could, we obeyed the rules. We took the whole thing seriously and did what was right: not just because we’re good obedient citizens, but because we cared.
We cared for our own health and for the health and wellbeing of our families and loved ones and communities. We kept clear of the vulnerable, not because we ourselves feared catching Covid, but because we didn’t want them to be infected and die.
So, it’s pretty galling to see the man who was health secretary at the time starring (if that’s the word) in an entertainment show on television, as if all that horror and the thousands of deaths in care homes under his government’s watch was some kind of unfortunate pre-entertainment episode.
They partied, and he snogged, while the nation suffered and grieved and mourned
Now, I fully understand that Hancock was not personally responsible for the often chaotic and, frankly, corrupt government response to the Covid pandemic. But, he was a leading member of the sordid squad who framed the laws which seemingly only applied to ordinary people, not to his privileged kind. So, they partied, and he snogged, while the nation suffered and grieved and mourned.
At what point does entertainment become clownishness?
I’ve worked in television, so I know it’s part of the so-called entertainment industry. Not that there is anything wrong with entertainment per se. I love going to the circus to watch the clowns. I like going to the shinty to watch the farpais – the competition.
I like music and dancing and reading and theatre and ballet and opera and boxing and horse-racing and all kinds of other things which are all first-class entertainments.
The things you'll do for Granny's apple pie 🥧 #ImACeleb pic.twitter.com/2TqS0Szluj
— I'm A Celebrity… (@imacelebrity) November 27, 2022
But at what point does entertainment become clownishness? A circus without the fun.
Does everything really have to be reduced to the lowest common denominator? Did we really have to be governed (again, if that’s the right word) by Boris Johnson and Liz Truss? At what point does a product become so diluted that it’s useless?
Give us less peely-wally, watered-down nothingness
Now, I haven’t drunk alcohol for over 30 years, but, as far as I remember, if you wanted a nice dram, you poured a smallish measure into a nice crystal glass and sipped it slowly, preferably by a peat-fire.
Some added the sin of water. But, if you were to put that dram-measure into a pint glass and then fill it up with water, I’m not sure it would taste of anything but water. Uisge without the beatha, as it were.
Or, let’s take soup. I like soup, and I like making soup. Onion, ginger, garlic, turmeric, and whatever vegetables are around, with some nice stock.
And, there it is, bubbling away beautifully on the stove, when there’s a knock on the door and some friends arrive unexpectedly, and there’s not really enough soup for everyone, so the terrible temptation is to add a jug of water to the soup, and the result is a peely-wally, watered-down nothingness.
Which is what most of TV seems to me these days. What do they say? Nine-hundred channels and nothing to watch. Except Matt Hancock doing karaoke, eating cockroaches and cow’s anus, when he should be in parliament and in his constituency, doing his highly-paid work. Or in some quiet place, on his knees, repenting.
I hesitate to mention the name of the great Jimmy Carter alongside Hancock. But, after a somewhat inglorious US presidency, that included the Iranian siege, the now 98-year-old President Carter has spent the past 40 years building homes for the poor. Now, there’s leadership and heroism and true redemption. Somebody showing his true self – “being normal”, as Hancock put it.
Unfortunately for him, Hancock being normal was just the same as Hancock the failed politician.
Angus Peter Campbell is an award-winning writer and actor from Uist
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