I regret to inform you that Matt Hancock is at it again. Almost a year since he gulped down a glass of liquidised meal worms on I’m a Celebrity … Get Me Out of Here!, and just weeks after using TikTok to out himself as the least competent lip-syncer alive, he has chosen to continue his grimly endless redemption tour by appearing on one of television’s most grimly endless shows – Celebrity SAS: Who Dares Wins.
Judging by the first episode, it is business as usual. He is taken to the rain-soaked Vietnamese jungle and pushed into a lake. He walks a tightrope. He gets punched in the face by a retired footballer. Someone yells at him for running “like a fucking ostrich”. He takes it all on the chin with no real emotion, good or bad, to the point where it starts to feel as if you’re watching the first 15 minutes of a Black Mirror episode about a robot that takes so much abuse it snaps and kills everyone.
Along the way he trots out all the old lines. “I’ve had my fair share of hostility.” “I fell in love.” “I was very careful not to break any laws.” At one stage, some interrogators ask him about adversity, and he replies “Well, I handled the pandemic, didn’t I?” like a stroppy teen. It is, by all accounts, Hancock by numbers.
And, just like when he was on I’m a Celebrity, you will spend the entire thing asking yourself why he is doing it. Former cabinet ministers, even ones as dire as Hancock, could walk into any number of cushy jobs. Consulting. Speaking engagements. He could go and work for Facebook like Nick Clegg if he really wanted to. But no. He would rather pop up once a year to eat a big slice of poo on television. It’s such a bizarre impulse.
Still, Hancock will be the reason you watch Celebrity SAS: Who Dares Wins. You won’t watch it for the schadenfreude from the other contestants, because they include figures such as Melinda Messenger and Gareth Gates (who, hilariously, says he took part in the show because “I’m looking forward to showing the public that I’m a man with a beard”), and it is hard to imagine anyone alive who has strong feelings for any of them one way or the other.
God knows you’re not going to watch SAS: Who Dares Wins because you actually like SAS: Who Dares Wins. Of course you don’t. Nobody does. In all of history, you would be hard pressed to find as much gormless, overcompensatory, faux macho bullying presented this smugly. In its head, SAS: Who Dares Wins is the first half of Full Metal Jacket, systematically breaking down its recruits with a barrage of top-volume abuse until they are able to rebuild themselves better and stronger. But it isn’t that, is it? It’s just famous people being uncomfortable for money. It’s I’m a Celebrity, only cheaper and presented by a bunch of PE teachers. If you’ve seen one episode, you’ve seen them all.
In that regard, Hancock is TV gold. He is the big hire who will get eyeballs trained on a tired old format again. You are watching it because he is on it. I’m writing about it because he is on it. It is hard to tell how long he will stay on the programme – the opening sizzle reel seems to show him taking a nasty fall on some concrete, so there is every chance he will drop out early due to injury – but what does that matter? We are talking about the show again. Mission accomplished. Well done, everyone.
The psychology behind Hancock’s decision to keep putting himself up for these shows does make some sense. He is a man with a palpable desire for public approval. He wants to show that he can endure endless humiliation because he thinks there will be a tipping point where people start to cut him some slack.
And, like on I’m a Celebrity, he seems intent to get on with it without complaint. He is perfectly adequate. But is this really the legacy he wants for himself? To be known as the guy who was adequate at reality television? Please, Matt, make this your last show, for your own sake as much as ours.
