It’s the final of Child Genius (Channel 4), and five little people with very high IQs get (very) high fives from very tall host Richard Osman. “You know if it was up to me all five of you would win,” he tells the bonzai boffins, demonstrating very little understanding of how good TV works.
I’m surprised, frankly, as Richard has been involved in some of my favourite television, including Total Wipeout, the underrated Bromwell High and, of course, Pointless. Unless he doesn’t really think that – he’s just saying it, to make them like him more. Anyway, fortunately it’s not up to him, and the final goes ahead as planned.
For siblings Stephen and Georgia, it’s more about trying to destroy each other than anything else. “It gives me another chance to absolutely thrash my sister,” says Stephen, 12. His specialised subject is morphological and behavioural mimicry in arthropods – spiders being sneaky, basically – in which he scores a very creditable 15 points.
“OK, fair enough, that’s quite a good score, well done,” concedes Georgia, 10, without any gaps between the words (“OKfairenoughthat’squiteagoodscore welldone”). She gets 11 points on Russian Ballet, 1938-1962, the Kirov and the career of Rudolf Nureyev. In the end, neither of them makes it to the last two which is a relief to their parents. “That’s what we needed, them both to go out together,” says Mum. Georgia’s OK with it because it means a girl is going to win; a gender victory, if not a personal one. And even Stephen’s OK. “I am the third most intelligent child in the UK, I’m happy with that,” he says. Phew.
Twelve-year-old Gloucestershire polyglot Jonathan’s specialist subject is public health and sanitation in Victorian London. He knows the year and month that Sir Joseph Bazalgette was appointed chief engineer to the new Metropolitan Board of Works (January, 1856). What possible use or interest can that be to a kid? I can sort or understand the spiders, and Nureyev, even the “Ladies” (Iron and With Lamp) to come, but not the Victorian sanitation. Anyway, Jonathan scores 12; his dream is flushed away; I’m with his Mum, I don’t think he did enough work, maybe he didn’t want it enough.
Then the final becomes the Saffy and Rhea Show. Saffy, 10, consumes more than 40 books a month (I think she literally eats them); her subject is the Premiership of Margaret Thatcher – monetary policy and tax reform 1979 -1990. Rhea’s on the Role of Florence Nightingale on Military and Healthcare Reform, 1853-1914. “I think it was just amazing how not only did she influence medicine, but she did it as a woman at a time when women really couldn’t do anything,” she tells the founder of the Nightingale Society, turning to her parents for approval.
Saffy and Rhea’s parents take it up a notch, too. Winning it would mean “a lot of success”, says Rhea’s mum. “That is what our family does, we aim high, we generally succeed.” Saffy’s mum says her daughter has a steely determination. She is “this silent assassin; you don’t know how much she can achieve unless she is pushed” – Rhea’s dad is looking for a bit of The Jackal in his little girl too. “I think it’s time to just sort of lock the cross hairs on that trophy and go and get it,” he says.
These parents are as amazing as their progeny. They’re making me feel inadequate: I haven’t given up a high-flying career, and I don’t spend five or six extra hours coaching my children, putting them on intensive training regimes, pushing them to succeed and turning them into silent assassins. I’m ashamed to say they probably know more about Peppa Pig than Victorian sanitation or locking on to any trophies. That’s all going to change.
The two girls score 16 (after Rhea’s mum intervenes to reclaim a wrongly unawarded point for her daughter). Now it’s one last push to glory: mental arithmetic, general knowledge and spelling. They’re human calculators; they know about Frida Kahlo and global positioning; and how to spell thelytokous, xerophthalmia and eleemosynary. Rhea pulls ahead, but Saffy reels her in – the silent assassin; it’s 9-9 in first to 10 ... Who wants it more?
Rhea! She sees that trophy and locks the cross hairs on it (to be honest, it’s about the same size as she is; it can’t have been hard). A worthy winner, though. And Richard Osman is going to go on record and say it was the “greatest final in the history of Child Genius”. See, he does get it really – television. It was; amazing.
