The Real Marigold Hotel, ep 2 review: fun TV but would you go on holiday with Britt Ekland? No way!
The narrator of The Real Marigold Hotel (BBC One) insists that its eight celebrities are there to discover if they could live out their golden years in India. Pull the other one, Tom Hollander (for it is he).
Is Duncan Bannatyne seriously weighing up a move to Tamil Nadu, given the fact that his young wife lives in the UK and he gets withdrawal symptoms when they’re apart? And would Britt Ekland, a woman who refers to herself in the third person, ever set up home in a country where nobody recognises her? “Whilst I am known all over the world, I feel a responsibility to keep Britt Ekland going,” she solemnly informed us.
One of these people is a bona fide celebrity in India, though, and that’s Henry Blofeld. The highlight of this episode was seeing Blowers turn on the charm during a visit to a local cricket ground, where he began commentating on the action and that unmistakable voice soon drew a crowd. They were thrilled to meet him, and he was thrilled that they were thrilled. It was rather lovely to see him in his element. “We’re all old cricketing bores, aren’t we? But it’s wonderful boring each other.”
Blofeld is an old hand at India, of course. Others found it more challenging. “The heat,” said Paul Chuckle helplessly on more than one occasion, and who could blame him when the film crew had chosen to send the celebrities to southern India at the height of summer. But he was game, signing up for a driving lesson and accompanying Blofeld to a yoga lesson.
Watching a programme like this, you mentally tick off the people with whom you would be happy to go on holiday. Nobody wants a self-catering break with someone who has a mini-nervous breakdown after offering to cook dinner, so John Altman is out. And as for Ekland, with her princess ways and her sly put-downs (“She’s a fascinating woman. She’s obviously very… Scottish,” was how she described Barbara Dickson)? Fun TV. But you’d definitely ditch her at the airport.
