When I got home from filming Sunday Brunch, my dad was really quiet.
‘Do you fancy a brew, Dad?’
‘Nah, you’re all right.’
‘You OK with me, Dad? You seem quieter than usual.’
‘Not really, kid. What did you say that on Sunday Brunch for, man?’
‘Sorry, Dad, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.’
‘Embarrass me?’
‘Well, yeah, is that why you’re upset?’
‘No, I’m annoyed. I mean now when the zombie apocalypse happens everyone knows to come to our house. Come on, Scarlett, think about things before you speak. We haven’t got enough supplies for everybody.’
And it’s conversations like that with my dad that made me miss him so much in the jungle. He is one of a kind. I was so happy I had been given such an amazing bunch of people to share my I’m a Celebrity … Get Me Out of Here! experience with, because I knew my mam and dad didn’t have to have any moments where they felt upset watching me. If I’m happy, they’re happy.
So like I said, we were all having such a great time in camp, being a tight little team, having a giggle, winning loads of stars in the trials. That was until Martin Roberts (from Homes Under the Hammer) and Danny Baker came in to camp to stir things up. And yep, shit hit the fan.
Now Danny Baker was who I wanted to win and he is a man I have a lot of respect for. He is pure genius and I had watched his work in action on TFI Friday with that lovely tangerine-haired man Chris Evans when I was little. Martin, on the other hand, well, me and him got off on the wrong foot. I don’t know if it’s because I asked if Homes Under the Hammer was like Changing Rooms and did they go into every house and stencil the kitchen and laminate throughout, or whether it was just because our personalities clashed. I now think he is just really misunderstood and he is completely harmless. I think at first I just found it a shock at how negative and snappy he was. He didn’t get my sarcastic humour. But honestly towards the end of our experience he was one of the people I enjoyed spending time with the most.
I remember one night Lisa Snowdon made him some beans and rice on the little hotplate we had been given. Mind, dry beans and rice with no condiments and nothing but lukewarm river water to wash it down with is utterly vile. The beans are completely tasteless and have the texture of dry rabbit droppings. The rice is like eating tiny shards of flavourless glass. And the lukewarm water tastes like plastic as it has been melting in the canisters all day. But hey, it’s better than nothing.
The reason we were cooking on a hotplate and not the camp fire was because our team had been banished to the top of the hill. Our groups had been separated, and the other team were eating ostrich steak. You could smell it from our camp, and I was like, ‘Oh God, what I’d do to that ostrich steak right now.’
Lisa appeared with our beans and rice. ‘Here you go, Martin.’
‘It’s fine, Lisa, I don’t want any.’
‘What do you mean? You’ll be hungry.’
‘No, I’ll just wait for the food to come.’
‘This is the food.’
‘No, when they switch the cameras off.’
‘Martin, people don’t lose a stone in here for nothing. Plainly this is all we eat. There are no Mars bars being dropped in.’ I was crying with laughter; he had me in stitches. It made me completely forget about being hungry because I couldn’t focus on anything else but wetting myself from laughing.
I felt for Martin, I really did. Plus he was a latecomer and was a big tea drinker like me. The headaches you get from caffeine and sugar withdrawal, eugh. Larry, bless him, would boil hot water and just give it to you in a cup, so you felt like you were drinking tea. So you were just drinking hot water, but it was nice just sitting on your bed holding your cup. Me, Martin and Wayne Bridge would often pretend to be eating biscuits with our cup of hot water – imitating dunking a digestive biscuit smothered with chocolate. I would have eaten a bucket full of kangaroo testicles if it meant I could have been given a packet of chocolate Hobnobs. It was during this role-play that me and Martin had the most political conversation the camp had ever witnessed.
‘What’s your favourite biscuit to dunk?’
‘I love a custard cream.’ Jordan peeped out from his hammock.
‘Nah, it’s all about the chocolate digestive, plain and simple,’ Bridgey chipped in.
‘Do you know, it depends what time of year it is,’ I said.
‘What?’ Martin snapped.
‘So at Christmas time it’s all about the hearty biscuits that make you feel warm inside. I’m talking chocolate digestives, chocolate Hobnobs and ginger snaps. Summer time it’s all about the light biscuits. Your Rich Teas and custard creams. Any other time of year you can have a bourbon with a cup of Yorkshire tea.’
‘What about Jammie Dodgers?’ Martin exclaimed.
‘Woah pal, you can’t dunk a Jammie Dodger. Same as you can’t dunk a Jaffa cake.’
‘Of course you can.’
‘Right guys, back me up on this, you can’t dunk a Jammie Dodger. It spoils it. You’ve got to keep the jam intact to get the best out of it. If you dunk it the jam will go in your brew. This is ludicrous, Martin, you’re making your brew undrinkable by dipping that in.’
And so #biscuitgate began. Never did I think people would be having a debate over Twitter about dunking Jammie Dodgers. But yeah, hallucinating about food was one of our greatest pleasures while sitting round that camp fire. It helped with the sugar withdrawal symptoms. It especially helped us on day three, which is famously known as constipation day. I knew that, so that was the one day that I said I would clean the dunny (up there for thinking, down there for dancing!).
The only argument I had in camp was with Martin. I had been voted president by the lovely public of the United Kingdom, which meant I wasn’t allowed to do any jobs myself, I had to just delegate. (Plus I got to sit on the only comfy seat in camp.) We split all the chores fairly and it was working really well. I put Adam Thomas with Martin so he could motivate him but to be honest Martin didn’t listen to me, Adam or the rest of the camp. We were running low on water and Adam was busy getting firewood.
‘Could you please go and collect some water, Martin? We are running low.’
‘No, not yet. I am busy.’
Now I realise you lovely lot watching only got to see me ask him once. I had in fact asked him several times over the course of about five hours. I couldn’t take it any more.
‘I can only ask you so many times to get some water politely, Martin. Come on, you don’t speak to any of the men the way you speak to me. If I was Larry or Wayne, would you have said no?’
Then Danny (my hero) Baker stepped in. ‘Mate, she’s president, if she says do something you’ve got to do it. But you don’t, you always answer her back like she’s some silly kid and she isn’t.’
Now look, I am an adult and I don’t need anyone to fight my battles for me but I was feeling really alone that day so I was grateful for Danny’s intervention. I just felt like I was banging my head against the Bushtucker Telegraph as Martin was just not listening.
But like I say, I really like Martin, we chatted for hours and after that argument it actually made us come closer together. He apologised and that was enough for me; he didn’t mean to make me feel like that and I know he would genuinely never want to make anyone feel upset. I have a lot of time for Martin. I also have a lot of time for Danny and when he went I was devastated. He was my winner. I just couldn’t understand why he had been voted out so soon. But I knew he wanted to be in that Versace Hotel with his wife Wendy and he had done trials and experienced camp life so he got all he went in there for.
The camp just seemed too quiet without Danny’s stories and his singing. I couldn’t believe he had just got over throat cancer; his attitude to life is one I’ll take with me always. He embraces every day and what a life he has led. From playing football to meeting Bob Marley, to selling records to Elton John and being besties with Chris Evan
s. When we got home from Australia, me and my boyfriend Luke were kindly invited round to Danny and Wendy’s home. They found out we had no heating (you’ll hear more on that later but basically when we first moved into our flat in London it had no heating at all and it was like living in an igloo) and so they warmed us up and made us an absolute spread of lamb chops and about ten different kinds of potatoes. As we pulled up to Danny’s house I was in shock. ‘Luke, this is absolute house goals, it is beautiful.’
I found out that me and Danny actually had some things in common. Both of our mums were amazing human beings and called Betty. He has a love of Noddy like me (I mean I’d had my toy Noddy for twenty-four years and I didn’t think anybody could love him as much as me but Danny had original illustrations in his home). His first-born daughter is called Bonnie and my first-born chihuahua is called Bonnie – I have had her since 13th September 2015 (she was only ten weeks old) and I treat her like my child. And also we have both done radio, although obviously he has done it for years and actually knows how to work the buttons on the screen.
I loved that day round Danny’s, it was one of the best days in London I’ve ever had. We – that is, me, Luke, Danny, Wendy, their kids Bonnie, Mancie, Sonny and his girlfriend – drank wine, wore Christmas paper hats and watched some of the trials of the jungle back.
Of course, that’s the most notorious part of I’m a Celeb: the Bushtucker Trials. And I can assure you, they are quite as bad as they look! One that stood out for me as particularly appalling was ‘Croke-e-mon Go’. I used to be claustrophobic, and I’ve never been scuba diving or anything – Jesus, I didn’t even dare to put my head under the water in the bath for a long time. I’d get properly freaked out. I couldn’t even go in some lifts as I’d feel anxious. Sometimes I could go in them if they were mirrored or you could see through them, but not being able to see an exit for me is terrifying.
So you can imagine how I felt as I stepped into a tank full of eels. I sat myself down and could feel them against my skin. Trying to stay calm, I then had to put my head in another tank. The trial hadn’t even begun and I could feel myself hyperventilating. Medic Bob fitted me with a snorkel and I knew I had to endure hell for the next four minutes. ‘It’s just four minutes of my life, that’s all,’ I told myself. ‘If you can do this, Scarlett, you can do anything.’
Medic Bob outlined what I needed to do. We called him Dr Gloom, because even though he’s got a smiley face, it’s always bad news. He may as well have said, ‘Basically, you could die, but we’re on hand so try not to panic and try not to die on live telly. It wouldn’t be good viewing.’
‘Bob, what happens if I swallow some water?’
‘I am going to show you some techniques because you will be swallowing water all throughout the trial. You need to breathe in through your nose then out through your mouth, spitting the water out as you go.’
I was like, ‘What happens if I swallow too much water and drown?’
‘Just calm down, you’ll do fine. If you want to get out at any time, signal with your hands or pull hard on the rope to the left-hand side of the tank.’
I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing. I couldn’t hear anything Ant and Dec were saying. OK, what song can I sing, I thought, what will take my mind off things? So in my head I kept replaying ‘Tragedy’ by Steps (fitting, I know). They dropped toads in the tank with me; they came down hard onto my head. I bit down into my snorkel so hard my gums bled a little. I did not want to lose the snorkel; that was my breathing apparatus. Six yabbies came next, followed by more slithering eels. I had eels by my feet and eels by my ears. A hundred soldier crabs were lobbed in next, then spiders. Then all of a sudden the water drained and I could see Ant and Dec’s smiling faces through my misty goggles. ‘Yes, I’ve done it.’
I was sat there smiling; it was my worst day and best day in that jungle. My worst because that was a huge fear of mine, my best because I’d just faced it and kicked its arse. The jungle was so good for my confidence. It is bizarre but on the walk back from trials you think about the oddest things. On this day I remembered the piece of paper my little sister Ava had given to me just a week before I went to Australia. She had scribbled a Winnie the Pooh quote on it. It read:
‘There is something you must always remember.
You are braver than you believe, stronger than you
seem, and smarter than you think.’
Chapter Sixteen
AND THE NEW QUEEN OF THE JUNGLE
Celebrity camp-mates are given red socks to wear so that blood from insect bites doesn’t show up on camera. (Reassuring.)
Ridiculous amounts of creepy crawlies are used during jungle trials. In 2004’s ‘House of Pies’ trial, 1.5 million flies were used. (Lucky for Brian Harvey, the flies couldn’t actually fly, due to the conditions they’d been bred in).
I’m a Celebrity … Get Me Out of Here! has been going for sixteen series starting back in 2002. Over this time it has seen ten kings sit on the throne and six queens.
‘We are in the final three guys, we have made it to the very end.’
‘Bro, this is crazy.’
Adam was jumping around, we were like three big kids hugging and jumping around in a circle, we could not believe it.
‘I feel so lucky that we all came in on the first day and we are all leaving on the last day. We’ve experienced it all.’
See, a lot of the camp mates wanted to get back to reality and to see Australia and live it up in luxury at the Versace Hotel. But I know for a fact that me, Adam and Joel, well, we weren’t arsed about that. How many people get this opportunity to experience something as bizarre as I’m a Celebrity … Get Me Out of Here!? I didn’t think it would happen but I really wanted to make the final three. I had imagined what it would be like for so long and it wasn’t even what I thought it would feel like. I knew how amazing all the camp mates were, so for people to actually pick up their phones, tablets, iPads, laptops and actually take time out to vote for me, well, that meant I felt accepted.
‘Guys, this means we get to have the final feast together.’
We weren’t all hugging for too long when we realised what was coming.
‘I know the feast sounds good but to earn it, ha, it means we have to do our final trial, doesn’t it?’
Adam went first and came back looking shell-shocked. He had tackled the jungle classic, ‘Fill Your Face’. He had to put his head into a clear fish bowl-style helmet where 3,000 crickets, 300 cockroaches, 10 giant burrowing cockroaches, 10 scorpions, 10 millipedes and 20 spiders were dropped in to keep him company. He had aced the trial through gritted teeth and won us all a starter plus a drink each. Joel and I both knew he would ace it; after all, you don’t get given the nickname Mr Bushtucker Trial for nothing.
Joel came back from his trial holding his stomach. ‘Oh no, you’ve done the eating challenge, haven’t you?’ I said. I started to get a lump in my throat and a sickly feeling in my stomach.
‘That was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever done,’ he said. ‘I had to eat a furry moth, a pig’s snout, fish eyeballs, goat penis and blended scorpion.’
He aced it, I was so proud. I must admit, as selfish as this sounds, I was also gutted. I wanted to do the final eating challenge. Not because I enjoy the taste of liquidated scorpions but because I had already managed to get through one eating trial so I knew I could get through another one. My mind began to run wild with the possibilities of what my final trial would be. ‘I hope mine isn’t anything to do with being underground, or in a coffin or a cave.’
‘It won’t be, it’ll be fine. You can do whatever is thrown at you, Scarlett,’ Adam said. Adam was good at motivation. His camaraderie and laughter kept us all going through camp.
‘Thanks, Adam, and thank you, Joel. Bloody hell, we all have a main course now.’ My mouth was watering already at the thought of real food, on a real plate.
‘Good luck, Scarlett,’ the boys shouted. I went and sat in the Bushtucker Telegra
ph to talk about how I felt. This was going to be my final ever trial. I couldn’t believe it. Where had the time gone? I didn’t want to leave. Yes, I was missing everybody back home but I genuinely was having the time of my life. I was living my dream.
My final ever trial was to win all three of us a dessert and a treat. Oh what I’d do for a bit of apple crumble and custard. Or a cup of tea with a Tim Tam (which are basically the Australian version of a Penguin biscuit, but it’s like a really sexy Penguin biscuit – I ended up bulk buying them at the airport and bought 240 Tim Tams at duty free).
As I walked up the hill to see what final horrors awaited me, I noticed something peculiar. I couldn’t smell anything. Most of us had learnt to identify insects by their smell alone (not a skill that I thought I’d have to acquire or a skill that I hope has to come into use again). We would walk into a trial, and I’d be like, ‘Right, so I know there’s mealworms and crickets involved.’
Medic Bob would be so confused. ‘How do you know?’
‘I can smell them.’
You just get to know the smell of different insects. Here’s a little insect chart for you:
• Crickets: similar to old pumpkin guts like a sweet but deathly sort of smell
• Cockroaches: smell musty, like damp clothes
• Mealworms: basically smell like an alley with loads of dog shite in it (you know, the type where the poo is that old it’s gone white like chalk)
I suppose no matter how much you watch the show you would never know that, I mean it’s television not smellevision. I’ve watched the show religiously though the years. In fact, I’ve watched it all, judging everyone throughout. I wish I hadn’t now because you don’t actually realise how difficult it is until you’re in there. I remember watching some trials and screaming at the TV, ‘Jesus, do these people not know what they’ve signed up for? They do know surely that they’re free to leave whenever they want – they’ve chosen to partake. No one’s forced them! Big wimps, the trials can’t be that bad.’ But believe me, they’re even worse than you imagine.
Me Life Story Page 16
