![Like the bigoted relative at Christmas dinner … Nigel Farage on I'm a Celebrity ... Get Me Out of Here!](https://media.guim.co.uk/d81c14f676cdfeab5976b8cedcba1a8b0db5e32f/120_0_1800_1080/1000.jpg)
The big draw of this year’s I’m a Celebrity … Get Me Out of Here! was supposed to be Nigel Farage. His appearance was meant to galvanise the entire show, in the way that previous appearances from politicians had. He would turn up, all the campmates would yell at him, he’d be forced to do an endless succession of grisly bushtucker trials, he would earn a thin patina of respect for his endurance and then he would end up coming fourth.
But that hasn’t really happened. Farage was paid £1.5m to appear on I’m a Celebrity, and so far he only appears to have repelled viewers. Just 7m people watched the first episode this year, compared with more than 9m in 2022. Even accounting for the speed at which viewers are deserting terrestrial broadcasters, that’s a hell of a drop. In fact, it might even signal the end of the show itself.
Of course, it doesn’t help that Farage has made much less impact on the show than anyone could possibly have envisioned. Last year, when Matt Hancock entered the jungle, he instantly dominated the narrative. Hancock’s fellow campmates were so appalled by his appearance that some threatened to leave. It was a grimly cynical move on the part of the producers, but at least it made for electrifying television.
Meanwhile, Farage received a much more muted welcome from his campmates, who all seemed to prize quiet civility over open aggression. Only Fred Sirieix and Nella Rose have directly confronted Farage over his politics, and even then Farage’s bone-deep slipperiness made it difficult for either of them to land a punch. Instead, Farage has been the equivalent of the bigoted relative at Christmas dinner. Nobody wants him there, but he’s there, so let’s just ignore him. And ITV paid him £1.5m for this. It has been, you have to admit, a remarkably bad investment on their part.
![Nigel Farage in I’m a Celebrity.](https://media.guim.co.uk/1e62c34f499d8fb81467fa02be1de1897f8e60fa/0_0_1800_1080/1000.jpg)
The show seems to know this, too. In a recent Instagram live, Ant and Dec openly advocated for a temporary ban on the current formula. “I think we do a year without any politicians,” said Dec. “Agreed, agreed, agreed,” nodded Ant. In fairness, it must be hell for the pair of them. Just a few years ago, Ant and Dec went viral for using their I’m a Celebrity links to openly criticise the state of the Johnson government, but now the very people they were mocking have started to use their show as part of their rehabilitation tour. No doubt Farage will be voted out of the jungle. There is every chance that Ant and Dec will have to hug him. That isn’t a picture that anybody would want popping up when someone Googles their name. No wonder they’re calling for change.
But this isn’t the only battle I’m a Celebrity has on its hands. Thanks to the open letter Chris Packham wrote to the hosts, decrying the show’s “appalling abuse of animals”, one of the oldest gripes against the show has been hugely amplified. For years, bushtucker trials have made for uncomfortable viewing thanks to its dubious habit of putting animals in direct contact with hysterical, thrashing celebrities. The RSPCA has a campaign to force the show to end the practice, noting that animals have been dropped, thrown, overcrowded and crushed in the name of entertainment. Last year, 17,000 people complained to Ofcom about it. Thanks to Packham, that’s likely to increase this year.
I’m a Celebrity has never looked more like what it actually is: a horrible holdout from the bad old days of 00s entertainment. It still has all the hallmarks of shows from that era: a casual cruelty, a thirst for confrontation, a disregard for animal safety. If ratings are any indication, we’re getting bored with the formula. So what now?
I’m a Celebrity has two options. It can either radically retool itself by getting rid of the politicians and the animals and becoming a show about nice people who occasionally have to crawl through slime for food. Or it can simply give up. No television programme can last for ever. Tastes change. People move on. And on the basis of this year’s dud of an offering, it might already be too late for I’m a Celebrity to recalibrate. The writing is on the wall. Perhaps it’s time to put the whole thing to bed.