Matt Hancock: Star of the ‘I’m a Celeb’ jungle

Has Matt Hancock gone mad? Maybe not. His appearance in ‘I’m A Celebrity – Get Me Out of Here’ is part of a career move that could work well. Converting notoriety into fame pays dividends. Look at Ed Balls and Michael Portillo. Political failures, but they discovered gold on TV. A lot of observers loathe Hancock precisely because his plan may prosper. 

The balding Tarzan arrived in the jungle later than most of the celebs. And he was welcomed with a show of warmth and friendliness by his fellow castaways. Smiles and happy greetings all round. Someone called out ‘next slide please!’ and Hancock duly repeated his famous slogan. He knows the game. A precedent has been set by the ex-Speaker, John Bercow, who earns fees on the lecture circuit by shouting, ‘order, order’ to crowds of paying punters. A catch-phrase is useful to a washed-up statesman. 

Hancock, the ex-cabinet minister, turned the other celebs into politicians instantly. They sucked up to him in public but carped and moaned as soon as his back was turned. Classic Westminster behaviour. 

The jungle has a special bitch-shack where inmates can record malign comments about their fellow prisoners. As soon as Hancock showed up, this recording-studio was full of stars desperate to dump on him. Stand-up comedian, Babatunde Aleshe, couched his scorn in oblique language. ‘I’m not saying certain people shouldn’t come into the camp, I’m just saying ...’ Chris Moyles, a noted DJ, imagined the response of a Hancock constituent. ‘I can’t help but think, “you should be at work.”’ 

Boy George did the best impersonation of a two-faced politician. To Hancock’s face, with the others around, he offered friendly advice about the abuse he was about to face. ‘You’re really going to get it. You’re REALLY going to get it … not from me!’ By that he meant ‘from the public.’

In fact Boy George mounted the attack himself. As soon as Hancock was out of earshot, he plunged a whetted dagger into his spine. ‘I don’t want to be sitting here, like, I’m having fun with him,’ he said to a group of nodding celebs. Boy George explained that his mother, (who is still with us, thankfully), caught Covid and was unable to see her son during lockdown. Hence his contempt for Hancock. The hate-mob was joined by Mike Tindall, the son-in-law of Princess Anne, who cursed everything Hancock had said. ‘Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit,’ he declared in his moneyed drawl. The royals need a better script-writer.

These insults help Hancock, who is running an expiation strategy. Humiliating himself in public will cleanse himself of the Covid curse. Hence the gruesome trials he underwent.

His ordeal involved a hands-and-knees crawl through a tunnel booby-trapped with sluice gates that dropped bug-ridden sewage onto his head. He had to grope in the darkness for plastic gold stars and he collected a pretty decent haul. With him was a partially forgotten comic, Seann Walsh, whose fretful prattling cast Hancock in a heroic light. 

The scenes of underground torture were intercut with shots of Ant and Dec, the show’s official bullies, who laughed and bantered about their victims’ pain. (This programme has the morals of the dark age – or even the stone age.) Hancock endured the nightmare with nerveless stoicism. He plunged his hands into a tank of rats. He sifted through a scorpion-pit where yellow vermin swarmed and scuttled. He dipped his naked fingers into bilge that seethed with maggots and lice. As he crawled though this verminous underworld he was regularly soaked with fresh downpours of spider-ridden vomit.

He had no protection other than a climber’s helmet and his steel-plated ego but he didn’t fuss or panic. Nor did he call to be rescued – which he has the power to do. He completed the task efficiently while offering advice to Walsh, his quivering side-kick, who played the supporting role of damsel-in-distress perfectly. (TV execs will have noticed the strange chemistry between these two attention-seekers.)

Many viewers wanted Hancock to whimper and fail. He let them down. He did well. His enemies will sigh in despair. Neutrals will see him in a fresh light. His agent will add a ‘nought’ to his upcoming book deal. Hard to admit it but Hancock – so far – has won the jungle.