I'd Do Anything

I thought I had a great idea for a daily celebrity game show. The loser gets to choose his punishment from two alternatives – being eaten by a crocodile or sleeping with Amy Winehouse. Unfortunately the BBC has turned the format down saying that the crocodile would be full up by Wednesday and stop eating.

That one man vacuum of self doubt, Piers Morgan, this week said “No” to one production company who wanted to make a show in which he would be asked to fake his own death. I must admit I was personally shocked at how far things have come and I simply couldn’t believe it. Piers Morgan turning down a chance to get on a telly programme? Who’d have predicted that?

Although some of Morgan’s detractors will be up in arms that it was only to be a pretend fatality, the company will, no doubt, find some other publicity hungry mug to do their show because the one thing celebs hate more than being hounded is being ignored.

I mentioned recently that my wife and I were sounded out about appearing on the Wife Swap show and that we had declined. Since then the series has started transmission on Channel Four and the “wives” I would have had to invite in to my home so far have involved the lesbian ex model Samantha Fox or the collagen filled, gender confused, Pete Burns. It’s a freak show, yet fading stars and never weres are queueing up to get on it.

In fact they’d do anything. Many years ago an illusionist came to me with an idea for a quiz in which, for each incorrect answer, contestants got an electric shock through their seat building in intensity until, in the final round, they were made unconscious. I told him it was too dangerous and no one would volunteer to take part but, looking back, how stupid was I? If they weren’t already committed to I’m A Celebrity or Wife Swap they’d be signing up quicker than you can say Christine Hamilton.

It was in a Simpsons episode that a wise TV host (voiced by Star Trek’s George Takei) explained the Far East and celebrity love of TV humiliation. Homer’s family had won a trip to Japan in a quiz and, as the reasons for the cruelty in Japanese game shows were listed, Takei explained the tacky. “You reward knowledge, but we punish ignorance”.

And as a breed there are few more ignorant animals on God’s earth than the greater spotted celebrity - wearing concealer stick of course. It would be a fool who would bet against them signing on for a show where a wrong answer meant they had to select their first born for drowning.

There’s something wonderful about seeing the famous suffer and face deprivation because, deep down, we feel they deserve it. Their cushy, freebie laden, life and huge earnings make them ripe for a fall and I could list many famous faces I’d gladly watch suffer having met them and put up with their ill mannered, self obsessed, rants and demands.

But, here’s a thing. This week, in one afternoon, I met three familiar faces who were simply very normal. I interviewed a member of the Eastenders’ cast, Natalie Cassidy, who could not have been nicer or more down to earth. I then went out for a walk and bumped in to boxer Chris Eubank who was taking time to have his photo taken with a fan and then I met singer Craig David who turned out to be charming, polite, and generous with his time.

I’m thinking, therefore, that we need to protect some of these famous faces from themselves and I propose that it should be a condition of entry to the celebrity reality shows that you have to have a certain quota of people willing to state that you are a narcissistic, evil, unfeeling diva who deserves to die. In other words if you’re nice, you’re not in. Let’s make these shows only for the unpopular.

The downside is we’ll have wall to wall former Big Brother saddos and ex pop stars but, when they fall apart, get injured, go bankrupt or curl up with embarrassment, we can congratulate ourselves on a job well done.

Then if Pete Burns comes in to my house, it will be to fix my telly, not appear on it.

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Want to know if your favourite celebrity is hot or not? Here’s a way to find out. Nip down to your local Woolworths and have a look at the unsold, discounted, celebrity calendars left over from Christmas. Currently in my local shop for 69 pence you can get your hands on any one of the hundreds of Jonathon Ross calendars collecting dust.

He’s a nice bloke, I’m sure, but if I wanted a dodgy haircut and suspect fashion leering at me from my office wall I’d frame one of my old Eighties publicity photos.