CRUMBS! Something is rotten in the state of This Morning.
While no one seems able to put their finger on what exactly went awry, could it be that the King and Queen of Daytime TV are heading for a divorce?
Daytime TV is a lively, narcissistic melting pot of ego, vanity, hierarchy and domination, not to mention the bevy of managers and agents standing backstage ready to compete for their clients’ best outcomes.
For the show’s dedicated followers, however, I suspect this war of the egos is a great sadness.
They have invested in both presenters over the years and are fond of them.
On-screen duos are about balance, harmony and respect and it can be very hard to get right.
When I started on breakfast TV, Anne Diamond and Nick Owen might have been a bit magnolia but they were pretty damned perfect professionally — their relationship was one based on mutual respect.
Piers Morgan and Susanna Reid worked beautifully together, she accepted his combative, persistent interviewing approach without being a pushover herself.
And who can forget the lovely Eamonn Holmes and his side-kick Anthea Turner?
It was hard to ignore the frustration on his face every moment of every day as they co-hosted on the breakfast TV sofa.
He referred to Anthea as “Princess Tippytoes”, so no love lost there, then.
Truly successful professional working couples are as rare as hen’s teeth because in among all the narcissism, it’s hard to strike a balance and to feel they actually like each other.
Only a couple of weeks ago there was a rumour my old colleagues from Shooting Stars, Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer, had had a falling out because they no longer see much of each other.
I beg to differ. These two are both extraordinary performers, with different approaches to humour.
They have a brilliant understanding of each other’s strengths and weaknesses and don’t feel the need to live in each other’s pockets when the cameras stop rolling.
Neither is insecure. Both are creatively generous to one another, and that’s why they work.
It’s hard to think of another work environment where your professional relationship with someone is so reliant on you getting on, because the audience always knows when you are faking it.
I’ve had countless co-presenters and can’t say I’ve liked them all.
Some were vain, greedy, disparaging or dismissive. At those times you have to swallow your frustrations and irritations for the sake of the greater good — the audience.
I got on well with John Fashanu on Gladiators. He wasn’t a trained presenter and really didn’t have a clue what he was doing half the time, but through humour we made things work. Besides, we weren’t the stars of the show — the Gladiators were.
And therein lies the rub. Holly and Phil have forgotten about their audience and appointed themselves the stars of the show, which has made them bigger than the programme.
Phil has carved out a role as kingmaker — telling editorial staff who he will and won’t work with. I’m sure Fern Britton and Eamonn Holmes would be willing to back that up.
Phil is a talented guy but I was a tad disappointed when it emerged he had felt the need to bury his homosexuality in a wholesome marriage over — what felt like — a fear of damaging his career.
And perhaps this really is the end of the road for Holly and Phil.
You could argue that all good things come to an end — and it’s hard to imagine one without the other on screen.
Many will be sad if this is the end of an era — others might say it’s just the end of an error.
TOWARDS the end of last year I treated myself to a new sofa — for the first time in 20 years.
The old one was a sassy, pink velvet three-seater and still in great nick — well designed and made.
I contacted a national charity to see if it might take it and sell it on, and was able to book a collection online.
It would not be for another five weeks, which was a pain, but, hey, it was doing me a favour while I was doing a good deed.
Finally, this week, two guys turned up, took a two-second look at it and said: ‘No, we can’t take it. It’s too old and too damaged’.
It is old but not damaged. And as if anyone is going to give away a brand-new sofa . . .
I can’t profess to know how charities work but I reckon they would have got a few hundred quid for my sofa.
Besides, how ageist of them. They’re saying that if something is old, it’s no good.
Needless to say, the charity was not Age Concern.
OH how I laughed when Dishy Rishi revealed his latest trick for easing pressure on the NHS.
He’s proposing that pharmacists be given the power to issue prescriptions for certain ailments.
I wonder why it’s so darn difficult for politicians to get things right.
It’s like watching a toddler try to put a square wooden block into a round hole.
You see, I’m a regular at my local pharmacy.
Yes, I’m an ageing person who has the misfortune of having to access repeat prescriptions on a monthly basis.
The staff there are hard-working and under a great deal of pressure.
In the past year, we lost another pharmacy on our high street, so the heat is really on in the remaining one.
For at least the past six months, without the slightest exaggeration, you can easily spend a minimum of an hour and a half, often more, just queueing for your prescription.
I live in a community with an ageing population but also one with young families.
As we know only too well, old and new people get ill.
So the queuing has become a fiercely aggressive sport in our town. People get agitated and impatient.
The reason is that there simply don’t seem to be enough pharmacists.
To add insult to injury, Rishi’s mum ran a pharmacy, so you would think he would have his finger on the pulse. But apparently not.
If Rishi is going to add to their workload because he thinks it will free up GP appointments he’s deluded.
It’s all these ridiculous, half-baked ideas – these pathetic sticking plasters – they slap on the NHS which just make things worse in the long run.
Not enough pharmacists equals longer queues, equals more pressure on GPs. I don’t know why Rishi can’t see it.
He really should have gone to Specsavers. At least there’s plenty of opticians around.
HOW in the world is Martha Stewart 81? With this picture of her on the cover of Sports Illustrated, I would put her at 45.
She’s extraordinarily well-preserved. Like a gorgeous little homemade pickle.
I’ve been a huge fan for decades (even named my second daughter after her).
To me she represents that kind of accessible, comforting, classy homemaker I’ve always aspired to be.
But with a dose of bad girl thrown in on account of her doing time for some dodgy insider trading.
As I look at those images of the Queen of Cooking And All Things Housekeeping, I kind of despair because she’s got 30 years on me – but in comparison I look like someone who’s paid the price for a heavy drug addiction.
Unless, of course, I reframe my thinking. We all know there is no such thing as perfection and it could just be that Martha has had the odd tweak here and there. I’m praying to God she has.
In fact, though, it’s all about your genes.
It has taken me 55 years to realise I could live my best life, buy the most expensive moisturiser, oil my feet before bedtime, wear face masks and eat only the healthiest food but some of us just age better than others.
So, no more self-pity for this Swedish has-been. I don’t have Martha’s genes and I am taking the path of least resistance – choosing to age disgracefully instead.
WE have an unhealthy obsession with house ownership.
We insist on it becoming everyone’s sole ambition. It’s one way society judges success.
I’m a homeowner but part of that is because it’s always been drummed into me that it was the right thing to do.
Of course, it’s not always a guaranteed winner but it’s probably more solid than finding yourself in the rental market.
Twice in the past eight months my 22-year-old daughter has been turfed out of her rental home with only a month’s notice because the landlord has decided to sell up.
His prerogative, of course, but the insecurity has affected us all.
The rental market is competitive, but so is buying and not many people can afford deposits.
Reforms are coming so that landlords can’t evict anyone without good reason.
I’m sure there are excellent landlords out there but few seem to offer long-term security.
In much of Northern Europe renting is far more common, because there hasn’t been an historic preoccupation with ownership.
As a result, housing associations offer life-long contracts that adhere to high standards.
My sister in Sweden has lived in the same apartment for the past 12 years and knows she can stay.
Meanwhile, in Blighty, we’re knocking up below-average houses on our greenbelts, many are unaffordable and serve to line developers’ pockets.
I wish we could make renting not just more cool and acceptable but more secure.
People shouldn’t have to live on tenterhooks not knowing when they might find themselves homeless.
