One Saturday morning in November 2010, I was crying in the bath over the recent death of my friend Angie when my mobile rang. It was my agent Richard, phoning on a weekend, which was weird.
‘Is your passport up to date?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘They’ve offered you I’m A Celebrity. You have 30 minutes to make your mind up: the flight leaves for Brisbane tomorrow night.’
On entering the jungle, Jenny Eclair described herself as ‘a dumpy small-breasted, flabby 50-year-old who wore her glasses even in the shower’
Jenny, far left, on a team Bushtucker challenge with, from left, Shaun Ryder, Stacey Solomon, Kayla Collins and Dom Joly
At the time, I couldn’t face the reality of my own life – my friend had died, my most recent tour had failed, my career had stalled – so I decided I might as well run away. The idea of being 35,000 ft above sea level, cocooned in business-class luxury, suddenly appealed. I said yes.
The deal I was being offered turned out to be less than a third of that of Sheryl Gascoigne, former wife of footballer Paul Gascoigne and one of the biggest names on that year’s show. You were paid according to your celebrity worth. I was a lightweight, which was reflected in my pay cheque.
Shaun Ryder, former singer of the Happy Mondays, called Jenny a ‘geezer bird’ and told her he respected her northern roots
Former MP Lembit Öpik – a ‘silly man’ who is ‘intellectually a terrible lightweight and a charisma-free zone’, says Jenny Eclair
Honestly, I’d have done much better if I’d been through a messy mud-slinging divorce, a personal drink ’n’ drugs hell or even just looked great in a bikini. The fact is, I was a dumpy, small-breasted, flabby 50-year-old who wore her glasses even in the shower.
I was not even guaranteed a place on the show, which had already started. I was being flown out as back-up.
The weather was grim and people were beginning to moan, so the production team were expecting a high walkout rate. If I did go in, I would be a late arrival, traditionally not a great start.
When I landed in Brisbane, I was met by a nice curly-haired boy who’d drawn the short straw of looking after me.
I was jet-lagged and struggled to stay awake over dinner in the hotel. I was told to stay in my room, keep my head down and order room service while they decided what to do with me. I read and watched telly, wondering whether I’d done a stupid thing in agreeing to this.
Jenny covered in bugs in a bushtucker trial – the same challenge failed by Gillian McKeith earlier in the series
Then, the next day, just before I went mad with homesickness and boredom, there was a flurry of activity. I was driven to another hotel, served a slap-up lunch and informed that I was going into the jungle. Craftily, I swiped a bread roll for future emergencies.
Once I was dressed in my jungle gear, I found my inner gung ho. The other late arrival going in with me was Dom Joly, the comedian known for his giant mobile phone and Channel 4 prank show Trigger Happy TV. We are friends to this day.
The two of us were helicoptered to the ‘jungle’ (a first for me – I loved it). We then had to canoe to some little island, where our mission was to win stars for the camp by staying the night in a snake-infested hut. As I lay in my sleeping bag and nibbled my smuggled bread roll, I wondered what on earth I’d let myself in for.
The comedian taking part in a challenge, eating a bug with some gusto
The next day, still wearing yesterday’s knickers, Dom and I were helicoptered to a clearing some distance from the camp. Actor Nigel Havers and Shaun Ryder, former singer from the Happy Mondays, had been dispatched as the welcome party.
By the time we’d trekked down to the camp making desperate small talk, I developed a migraine. I don’t often get migraines but, when I do, I need to lie in the dark and throw up. I spent my first night in camp doing just that. I threw up and I threw up and then I threw up some more.
My fellow campers kept their distance and I prepared myself for an early elimination.
My bed was on the outer edge of the camp. From my vantage point, I could see and hear everyone.
My closest sleepmates were Sheryl Gascoigne (highest paid, first out), who was a poppet and so pretty I couldn’t take my eyes off her, and Shaun, who was less pretty and already covered in festering insect bites. Shaun called me ‘geezer bird’ and told me he respected my northern roots. He clearly thought I was tough, which I’m not, but neither was I self-delusional, a bit thick, conversationally boring or just plain odd, like some of the other contestants.
Having said that, not everyone was awful. I became fond of Britt Ekland; I’d met her before when she guested on my LBC show and talked about former husband Peter Sellers being cruel.
She’d told me a story about how he had bought her a watch, but because she didn’t wear the outfit he wanted her to wear, he took it off her wrist and stamped on it. I also really liked Nigel. At 59, he was dishy and suave and everything you want him to be.
‘Poo doctor’ Gillian McKeith was moany and boring and ‘fainted’ all the time, particularly when she was called on to do a challenge
He wildly objected when we were given electric shocks if camp members failed in a special trial and then he pulled out of the contest. I missed him when he’d gone. He was a civilising force.
Others irritated me. Former MP Lembit Opik was a silly man: he had squirrelled away some rolls of toilet paper in case people were ‘profligate’ with it. That was the word he actually used. At the time, he was dating 21-year-old Merily McGivern.
Later, my husband Geof told me that, when he got eliminated, Lembit and his girlfriend, who was more than 20 years his junior, spent a lot of time at the hotel pool, staging lovey-dovey antics for the Press. Yuk. He is intellectually a terrible lightweight and a charisma-free zone.
Equally idiotic was Gillian McKeith, who was famous for being a TV ‘poo doctor’. She was moany and boring and ‘fainted’ all the time, particularly when she was called on to do a challenge so, of course, the public kept voting for her. I tried to stay away from her and was glad when she was voted out. Apparently, she smuggled herbs and spices into the camp in her pants, which is an upsetting thought.
There were other camp mates I can barely recall – a rapper who disappeared without trace, the Olympic athlete Linford Christie, who didn’t like cold water. A nice enough chap with good legs.
We also had a swimwear model in the mix, a perky American blonde called Kayla Collins, who had spent time in Hugh Hefner’s Playboy Bunny Girl luxury home in Chicago. We did a challenge together one day which involved being dunked in horse poo. I’ve Googled Kayla to see what became of her. On her Instagram account I discover she is now a brunette mother of five. I hope she is happy.
Alison Hammond, who had become famous by competing on Channel 4’s Big Brother, was a late, late arrival. She turned up in a crate. I hoped it might contain a kangaroo, anything to relieve the boredom. Poor Alison jumped out, full of beans and trying her best to have fun. I liked her a lot, but by this stage we were all set in our ways and we didn’t have the energy for new introductions.
Stacey Solomon, fresh from ITV’s The X Factor, was a complete one-off: she woke up grinning every day and had endless energy for anything. She and I had one row, when she told me reading books was a waste of time. When I tried to explain why it wasn’t, I felt 103.
Former Olympic champion Linford Christie was ‘a nice enough chap with good legs’, who didn’t like cold water
American swimwear model Kayla Collins did a challenge with Jenny which involved being dunked in horse poo. She is now a brunette mother of five
She is a sweet, golden-hearted woman and I’m not surprised by her continuing success. Since the show, Alison and Stacey have done the best of all of us: maybe being nice actually works? Oh dear, it’s a bit late to try it now.
What people don’t realise when they watch I’m A Celebrity is that most challenges are a long way away and you have to trudge miles to get to them.
En route you pass a sort of graveyard of previous challenges – the place is littered with broken bits of wooden structures, clearings full of derelict apparatus. It’s not just the UK that uses the site: it’s shared with all the international versions of I’m A Celebrity.
Former Big Brother contestant Alison Hammond was a late, late arrival. ‘She turned up in a crate,’ says Jenny. ‘I hoped it might contain a kangaroo, anything to relieve the boredom’
You should also know that the stone walls surrounding the camp are fake. They’re made of polystyrene and hide a rat-run for the cameramen. Sometimes, if I stood in the right spot, I could hear blokes behind the fake walls munching crisps.
As predicted, Stacey won the 2010 series of I’m A Celebrity by a landslide, Shaun came in second and I was third, which annoyed Dom. He was fourth.
In the final challenge, I was defeated by the idea of eating an eyeball and was voted out. We all have our limits.
I was genuinely pleased that my time was up. Mentally, I had started to wobble.
Geof met me on the slightly rusty rope bridge for all that reunion nonsense and we hugged self-consciously.
I was delighted to see him but couldn’t wait until we were alone and I could start bitching.
Safely in our suite, I had three baths, one after the other. When I eventually got out, I felt sorry for whoever would have to clean the tide mark round the rim. I did my best with it, but it needed scouring powder.
As for the Palazzo Versace Hotel, in Queensland’s Gold Coast, where we were put up, I’m sorry to ruin anyone’s posh hotel fantasies, but let’s just say it was weirdly very 1990s, stuffed with terrible furniture and framed black and white fashion photos which started repeating themselves down the corridors.
‘Sweet, golden-hearted’ Stacey Solomon won the 2010 series of I’m A Celebrity by a landslide; Shaun Ryder came second and Jenny was third – which annoyed Dom Joly, who came fourth
However, Geof and I were flown home first class, which was glorious and not something I’ve experienced since.
There was a bar in the middle of the plane – an actual bar where you could go and have a drink. It was marvellous. Everything had been paid for; that flight could have gone on forever as far as I was concerned, but we landed in snow at Heathrow.
My agent was thrilled with me. I think he may even have cried: he usually does when I surprise him and do better than he expects.
What’s more, I found the jungle diet had done its job and at Christmas I was able to pop myself into a tiny psychedelic vintage dress. I had lost more than a stone, mostly from trudging those miles in the jungle.
Looking back, Geof and I were surprised at how well I seemed to have done. Neither of us could imagine who voted for me, certainly not my family who don’t go in for phone voting.
We were equally surprised when, back home, primary-school-aged boys swarmed around me in the supermarket, asking for my autograph – it turns out they thought I was funny and brave.
Typical: I’d gained a new fan base of kids who were far too young to buy tickets to my live shows, or stand me a drink for that matter.
Adapted from Jokes, Jokes, Jokes by Jenny Eclair (Sphere, £25). © Jenny Eclair 2024. To order a copy for £22.50 (offer valid to 23/11/24; UK P&P free on orders over £25) go to mailshop.co.uk/books or call 020 3176 2937
‘ Este Articulo puede contener información publicada por terceros, algunos detalles de este articulo fueron extraídos de la siguiente fuente: www.celebrity.land.co.uk ’
