IF ever there was a man who wanted to have his Witchetty grub and eat it, it’s got to be Matt Hancock.
He clearly thinks the list of noble motives he’s been spouting to justify his star turn in I’m A Celebrity . . . will make him look like a cross between Marcus Rashford and Mother Teresa.
It’s not about him, insists the disgraced former Health Secretary. Oh no, it’s about raising the profile of his dyslexia campaign, it’s about escaping the “ivory towers of Westminster”, it’s about “delivering important messages to the masses”.
That would be very laudable if he wasn’t getting £400,000 for his trouble, on top of the £84,000 a year he’s being paid by taxpayers to represent his constituents in West Suffolk.
You would think, having been caught in a passionate clinch with his aide Gina Coladangelo — breaking his own Coronavirus rules — that Mr Hancock would be keen to make amends, to prove he is a serious politician. This was a blunder that cost him his Cabinet seat and his marriage.
But this week, just a few days after the start of the public inquiry into the UK’s handling of the pandemic, ITV viewers will see the man who was at the helm of the NHS pop up in the Celebrity jungle with Boy George, Chris Moyles and some girl off Love Island.
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And this, apparently, is just the beginning for Brand Hancock. He is soon to appear in Celebrity SAS and there is a memoir on the way.
There are even rumours that he is working up a TV pitch for a show that would have a camera crew following him and Gina around as they fix up a second property in Europe.
None of which really strikes me as fitting behaviour for someone who has a full-time job as a working MP and the perfect platform for his campaigns in Parliament.
I understand the temptation. He’s got a divorce to pay for, and it’s hard to turn down £400,000 for a few weeks’ work.
And I know — because I have done exactly that. I’ve politely refused invitations to dance on Strictly, to cook on Celebrity Bake Off and, yes, to take that jaunt into the jungle.
These weren’t hard decisions. I’ve got two left feet, my culinary skills don’t extend beyond toast, and I really don’t want to be known for eating fish eyes and maggots. So I have said no, no — and no. And I will continue to say no.
It’s not that I’m a bad sport. But I can’t be cavorting all over the place eating kangaroo testicles, unable to answer the phone, deal with emails and sort out problems. I have a job. And so does Matt Hancock.
When he stood for election he promised to be there for the people of West Suffolk, to listen to their problems and fight their corner. And the fact that his reality TV antics have cost him the Conservative whip doesn’t change a thing. He’s still their MP.
We are in the middle of a devastating cost-of-living crisis. People are terrified about whether they will be able to feed their families or heat their homes, and those with mortgages are scared they won’t even have a home to heat.
Does he expect his constituents to put their worries on hold while he earns more than most of them will make in a decade by being on TV for a few weeks? He’s left them high and dry.
If the political chaos of the past few months has taught us anything, it is that we desperately need grown-up politicians capable of putting the public good before their own ambitions and careers.
I suspect Mr Hancock is about to discover the price of failing to learn that lesson.
Andy Drummond, deputy chairman of his local Conservative Association, said he couldn’t wait to see the MP “eating kangaroo penis”.
Once the public starts voting, I reckon he’ll be downing so many marsupial genitals he’ll be able to clear the I’m A Celeb exit bridge in one giant leap.
Still, if he completes the full three weeks then he’ll have lasted longer than most Cabinet ministers.
THERE are so many reasons to love the Princess of Wales.
One such reason to adore her is that down-to-earth style.
On a visit to Scarborough in North Yorks on Thursday, Kate wore a pair of Accessorize earrings that cost £1.50. To be clear, she was wearing a coat that costs £460 – but she really pulled off those earrings with aplomb.
The ability to mix high fashion with high- street clobber shows true style.
JOIN me in wearing a pair of snazzy socks next month to celebrate Purple Sock Day.
Trendy retailer BAM is selling £6 purple socks for the December 3 event, with half of the profits going towards the Purple Sock Fund, which provides mentorship for disabled entrepreneurs.
Get the socks and show solidarity with the disabled business community here: bambooclothing.co.uk/purple-sock-day
SOME people will do anything for love – but this might be a little extreme.
Sarah Young, 24, was so desperate to get back with her ex that she deployed a clever dating app trick to snare him.
Four months after splitting from Nathan Lopez, 26, heartbroken Sarah sat outside his apartment and searched for men on Bumble within a one-mile radius to try and track him down.
She then scrolled through a sea of faces on the app until his profile appeared and sent him a message that read “Found you”.
It’s certainly a tenacious approach – and it could have gone either way.
Happily for Sarah, Nathan decided it was fate and they are now getting married.
But a word of warning, do be careful about adopting this approach yourself. You might be more likely to end up with a restraining order than an engagement ring.
THE countdown to Christmas is on.
Mince pies are on supermarket shelves, the festive ads are all over the telly and markets selling gluhwein are popping up.
But it’s fair to say some of us embrace the season of goodwill more than others. My jaw nearly hit the floor when I saw that former Corrie star Helen Flanagan had ushered Christmas into her home by putting up her tree SEVEN WEEKS early.
I’m afraid that is simply not for me. In fact, I approach putting up my Christmas tree in much the same way I approach welcoming my in-laws: I can’t wait for them to arrive, and as soon as they’re here I can’t wait for them to leave.
Once the tree is up, I can’t wait for it to come down. It just takes up too much room. And I let my kids decorate it, so it will never look like Helen’s.
Maybe if it did look that good, I’d want to start Christmas in early November. But who am I kidding? Bah humbug!
THERE’S no denying that Britain has a big, fat problem with obesity.
But official figures this week revealed that childhood obesity rates have started to fall post-lockdown.
“Only” one in ten youngsters are now obese by the time they start primary school, compared to one in seven in the first year of the pandemic.
While this is obviously progress, I can find little comfort in this story.
Obesity is a problem that has been around for years but it is becoming a national catastrophe – and needs resolving.
Being overweight when you are young sets you up for a lifetime of weight struggles and leads to all sorts of health problems when you get older.
It’s a parent’s responsibility to ensure their kids are healthy. Exercising more and eating more healthily are measures that are fairly straightforward for a parent to enforce, if they take charge.
But since that is unfortunately not always the case, we need to teach kids more about nutrition and the benefits of exercise while they are at school.
I learned to cook at school but those practical lessons were ditched from most places years ago.
We urgently need to help children build a lifetime of good habits that lead to a healthier life in adulthood.
We also need to be honest with ourselves. NHS Digital has decided to stop calling children who are too fat “obese” or ”severely obese”.
Instead, the health service’s data body has opted to tone down its language to those who are “living with obesity” or “living with severe obesity”.
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Why are we always being forced to revise our language to avoid offending? Heaven forbid if you call someone fat.
In my view, sometimes you just need to use the F word to realise what you are dealing with.
