Politicians are conspicuous by their absence. Hancock and Nigel Farage hit headlines in recent years for their outback misadventures. A lack of Westminster recruits this time feels like a missed opportunity. Outspoken LBC presenter Nick Ferrari reportedly pulled out after radio bosses boycotted his participation. Neither are there any royal-adjacent figures like Paul Burrell or Mike Tindall. Was a certain Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor not bookable? He surely needs the appearance fee and accommodation, let alone the reputation-washing properties of a waterfall shower and kangaroo anus supper.
At least intrigue came from Brook’s purported beef with our hosts. She has previously claimed that Ant McPartlin and Declan Donnelly got her fired from a short-lived judging stint on Britain’s Got Talent. It’s hardly the “Wagatha Christie” spice added by Coleen Rooney last year but it’s something.
This opening episode took in the traditional meets, greets and Gold Coast arrivals. These involved helicopters, skydives, wading through offal and snake-infested challenges. Cue the guileless Brook squealing “I don’t want to get in a cock van!”, “I’m going to puke!” and “Oh my god, they’re biting my ***s!” Dignity, darling, always dignity.
Everyone was surprised about doing a parachute jump, even though it happens every series. There was way too much screeching and screaming. It was annoying that the lucky quartet to win a luxury car journey, comfortable beds and steak dinners were all the young-ish males: Kadi, Osbourne, Aitch and Ginge. Their laddish energy and lame songs were reminiscent of the world’s worst stag do.
Still, Aitch and Wax seemed like they’d be good value. McGarty and Scott displayed plenty of pluck. Ant and Dec reminded us why they’re the best in the business at such affairs. Their links were delightfully daft and they immediately struck up a rapport with the campmates. Take away the pair’s sparky presence and this extended episode would have felt interminable.
A 95-minute launch show could easily have fitted into a far snappier hour. Instead it was padded out with commercial breaks (Christmas ads ahoy) and interviews in which contestants spouted the usual clichés about comfort zones and learning curves. On its silver jubilee, this staple of the autumn schedules is looking distinctly dated. Is it too late to summon Alan Carr and swap his green cloak for a cork hat?
