In a windowless Portakabin inside a disused warehouse, a man in his underpants is shouting “fuck” at a wall. Eddie Hall – known fondly as “The Beast” – is a 27st lump of man-meat whose general vibe is “bison rudely awoken from a nap”. Last year he claimed the title of world’s strongest man after lifting 500kg, prompting worldwide applause, and blood to gush out of his eyes and ears. That he could probably Hulk-smash his way out of his prefab prison with a single blow is neither here nor there. The Beast doesn’t do defeat.
Welcome to Celebs in Solitary: Meltdown (Tuesday, 9.15pm, Channel 5), in which people off the telly are locked alone in a room for five days, thus denying themselves the dopamine rush of being recognised from the telly. All so that they can be on telly, you understand. The series is the follow-up to last year’s In Solitary, where civilian volunteers were rendered swivel-eyed following the realisation that they hadn’t so much as a cockroach for company. Now, along with Hall, it’s the turn of TV presenter Anthea Turner, rapper Professor Green and comedian Shazia Mirza to channel their inner hermit, as a psychiatrist sits outside idly predicting a meltdown.
The first episode is taken up with introducing our protagonists and watching them grumpily explore their pods. “They will be completely and utterly alone,” says host George Lamb, helpfully disabusing viewers of the idea that solitary confinement means tea for two at Claridges. In each “pod” there is a bed, a sink, a shower, a toilet and a desk. There are marker pens for writing on the wall, and a big red panic button in case they want to leave. Once the button is pressed, a harried assistant will doubtless appear proffering their latest Insta stats and a taxi to the Chiltern Firehouse.
Similarly undermining the whole Prisoner: Cell Block H vibe is the fact that each participant is allowed to bring three luxury items, which here include colouring pens, a crochet set, a yoga mat, a 5,000-piece puzzle and a job-lot of protein powder. Would that Steve McQueen’s Papillon had been provided with a paint set shortly before entering solitary for his two-year stretch in the dark. While some might regard the exercise as an opportunity to take stock, plan their next career move or just wank themselves silly, our celebs see their strip-lit lodgings as a purgatory in which, deprived of human contact, they variously sleep (Green), swear (Hall) or quack incessantly at the camera (Turner). Two days in and Turner has also grown worryingly obsessed with her knitting. If, by the end of day three, she hasn’t tunnelled her way out using a crochet hook and an old spoon, I think we can all feel short-changed.
Celebs in Solitary harks back to a time when reality TV tried to pass itself off as social experimentation. As experiments go, however, this is about as sophisticated as the Mentos in a can of Coke trick, and as diverting as, well, watching people sitting around doing nothing. The challenge for the celebs here is coming to terms with their isolation and making their own entertainment. Perhaps we should return the favour and do the same.
