I’m A Celeb. In the jungle, the unmighty jungle, the viewers sleep tonight

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I’m A Celeb. In the jungle, the unmighty jungle, the viewers sleep tonight

November 25, 2016 - 17:41
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Down Under in the moronic inferno of ITV2’s godawful spin-off show Extra Camp the four hosts of the apocalypse are catching a lot of flak for their nightly "analysis" of the latest goings on in the jungle.

Ola and Martin enjoying the Bush Brewery 

Down Under in the moronic inferno of ITV2’s godawful spin-off show Extra Camp the four hosts of the apocalypse are catching a lot of flak for their nightly "analysis" of the latest goings on in the jungle.

Far be it from me to leap to the defence of gurner-in-chief Vicky Pattison, frightful oaf Joe Swash, random Geordie Chris Ramsey and best of a bungling bunch Stacey Solomon. No doubt about it… these shambolic shouters are as noisy as they are useless.

When Ant & Dec pop in to join the feeble fray it swiftly becomes Newcastle central. Wall to wall why-aye accents interrupted only by the unwanted interventions of caricature Cockney Swash, who makes Danny Dyer sound like an old-Etonian.

Meanwhile, Ms Solomon presents a gormless game based on a grammatical error. In More Or Less she asks, for example, whether mad Martin Roberts won “more than eight stars or less than eight stars”. It should, of course, be “fewer than eight stars". Luckily, on extra bad Extra Camp (geddit?) a command of the English language is definitely not required. Spotting the glasses beneath the pumps at the Bush Brewery, erudite Joe screamed: “Look at them cups!” Jesus.

But in fairness to our hopeless heroes, the empty freneticism of this puny programme isn’t all their fault. With an hour to fill, the poor saps haven’t got a whole lot to talk about. Because, let’s face it, in the entertainment wilderness of Camp Zero absolutely nothing is happening. The square root of sod-all. Sweet FA.

After a conflict-free fortnight we still haven’t witnessed a serious argument. Sent in to stir things up following an uneventful first week, Danny Baker and the aforementioned Mr Roberts bickered a bit. But it was hardly Lady C and Tony Hadley. The ludicrous level of love and harmony among this year’s contingent is deeply disappointing.

Reasonably amusing to see retching Roberts puking his guts out after downing crushed flies and cockroaches. “Are you okay?” enquired a genuinely concerned Ant. “Do I look all right?” cried Mart as the contents of his stomach came hurtling back up like an erupting volcano. Certainly, the funniest moment so far. But otherwise there hasn’t been much to laugh at.

Nice people getting on famously while completing too-easy tasks and winning so much food they’re actually putting on weight. They’re having a great time. The viewers not so much.

To add insult to injury, there’s not even any suspense in terms of who will triumph. Right from day one it was blindingly obvious that the next Queen of the Jungle will be giggling Gogglebox girl Scarlett Moffatt. Quite right too. She’s an extremely likeable person with a gift for comedy. Naturally, she’s also a Geordie. But her inevitable victory is another factor that takes the shine off the current rumble in the rainforest.

The fact is that just pouring insects onto squirming C-listers in Australia isn’t going to cut it anymore. Even when anguished Adam Thomas yells a lot. Be still my aching sides. Forcing them to eat kangaroo’s arses can still be a hoot. But since we’ve seen it all before, we need more than creepy crawlies and foul food to make the show sing. We need war.

With its well-fed contented contestants and lamentable lack of any decent rows, this must surely be the worst ever series. It all seems so relentlessly soppy.

Oh well. At least the eagerly-awaited eviction process is about to start. Let’s hope the viewers vote the boring ones out first. As in nearly all of them.