Could Holly Willoughby’s year from hell make way for the best of her career?
‘This Morning’ had become an albatross around the presenter’s neck, writes Michael Hogan. After queuegate, the Phillip Schofield scandal and an alleged kidnapping plot, things can only get better for one of our warmest, wittiest broadcasters
A little like the late Queen in 1992, TV presenter Holly Willoughby has suffered an annus horribilis. And ironically, it all began with an incident involving the late Queen herself. Ever since the “queuegate” controversy a year ago, Willoughby has been beset by scandal after scandal, crisis upon crisis. The lustre has come off ITV’s golden girl. Can she ever regain her shine?
It wasn’t meant to be this way. For years her winningly natural and empathetic screen presence made Willougby a firm viewer favourite. After winning a Bafta for her breakthrough gigs on children’s TV in the Noughties, she graduated to grown-up programming, working her way up through the likes of The Xtra Factor, The Voice, Streetmate and Surprise Surprise to become a familiar TV fixture on This Morning and Dancing on Ice. Now her career is at a crossroads.
The 42-year-old faces an uncertain future following news that she has departed daytime ITV institution This Morning. After Willoughby’s 14-year stint on its famous squishy sofa, the announcement caps 12 months that she would rather forget.
Shadows first fell across her pristine image last September when Willoughby and her co-host Phillip Schofield appeared to skip the long line of mourners for the Queen’s lying-in-state at Westminster Abbey. Just as we British love to queue, so we loathe a queue-jumper. The fact that this faux pas happened in the presence of our long-serving monarch only added insult to injury. Somehow so did the fact that the sainted, stoic David Beckham was among those bypassed.
The pair justified the damning front-page photos by claiming they were present in an accredited journalistic capacity, being led down to the front rather than deliberately queue-skipping, but the damage was done. For the faces of a brand built on relatability and down-to-earth appeal, it was a bad look to say the least.
A mere fortnight previously, they’d faced a backlash for offering viewers the chance to win their energy bill payments on This Morning’s Spin to Win game. Turning the cost-of-living crisis into light entertainment was slammed as “dystopian”. They swiftly dropped the feature. This Morning used to pride itself on instinctive understanding of its audience. It was hailed as “a litmus test of the nation’s mood”. Had approachable everywoman Willoughby lost her common touch?
The next sign of trouble in televisual paradise came in April, when Schofield’s younger brother Timothy was sentenced to 12 years in prison for sexually abusing a teenage boy. It was reported that Willoughby was blindsided by this. She knew nothing about the charges until Schofield asked for time off to attend the trial. The duo were renowned as being best friends off-screen as well as on it. They shared family holidays, fondly referring to each other as “my TV husband” and “my sofa wife”. When Schofield came out as gay in 2020, he did so with Willoughby by his side and paid touching tribute to her support. This betrayal left her devastated. She didn’t know the half of it. An even bigger scandal was just around the corner.
When news broke in May of Schofield’s affair with a much younger ITV staffer while he was still married, the squeaky-clean dream was truly over. Considering the pair’s closeness, questions were understandably asked about how much Willoughby knew. Their previously unimpeachable relationship was suddenly under the microscope, with incessant rumours of a rift.
Instead of watching This Morning for feelgood cosiness, viewers were on the lookout for signs of tension. It became less background comfort blanket, more melodramatic soap opera. The saga was even mentioned in Parliament. “We all know what’s going on with her and her leader,” deputy prime minister Oliver Dowden said of Labour counterpart Angela Rayner. “It’s all lovey-dovey on the surface. They turn it on for the cameras but as soon as they’re off, it’s a different story. They’re at each other’s throats. They’re the Phil and Holly of British politics.”
As pressure mounted, Schofield sensationally quit ITV, admitting that he’d lied to bosses about the “unwise but not illegal” affair. The 61-year-old said he was “utterly broken and ashamed” but denied grooming the junior colleague, who he’d first met when the man was a 15-year-old boy at drama school. Once again, eyes turned to Willoughby and the part she’d played in her sidekick’s downfall. If she’d publicly supported him, they might have ridden it out together.
The floodgates were opened. This Morning’s ex-presenter Eamonn Holmes and resident medic Dr Ranj Singh both made allegations about a toxic workplace culture. ITV bosses were called to a parliamentary committee over the channel’s approach to safeguarding and complaint handling.
Yet still the blunders kept coming. Returning to This Morning post-scandal, Willoughby delivered an emotional monologue that backfired badly. Its widely ridiculed opening line, “Firstly, are you OK?”, became a social media meme in the vein of the faux-concerned “u ok hun?”. Wobbly-voiced and damp-eyed Willoughby said she was “shaken, troubled and let down” by Schofield’s behaviour. Many viewers and pundits were unconvinced, seeing the statement as damage limitation and a cynical bid for sympathy.
Sceptics likened it to a similar speech given by Jennifer Aniston’s icily ambitious character in Apple TV+ drama The Morning Show, after her own co-presenter (played by Steve Carell) was publicly disgraced. Others drew comparisons to former health secretary Matt Hancock’s crocodile tears on breakfast TV as the first Covid vaccinations began. One pundit called her “Hollier than thou”. For the first time in Willoughby’s garlanded career, critics began to question her sincerity.
Last month, This Morning failed to win at the viewer-voted National Television Awards for the first time in 12 years. Its team, Willoughby among them, were audibly booed. A show that was once beloved had breached viewers’ trust. Even under a new regime of presenters and producers, could its reputation ever recover?
Nobody would blame ITV for cutting its losses and pulling the plug. Without its popular presenting pair turning on the breezy charm, the show’s featherlight format of recipes, consumer reports and agony aunts felt dated. Besides, it’s not as if daytime chat itself would be missed. That’s amply supplied by stablemates Good Morning Britain, Lorraine and Loose Women.
Last week came the final nail in the coffin. A shock plot twist that nobody saw coming. With reports of a plot to kidnap and murder Willoughby, she was put under police protection, alongside her TV producer husband Daniel Baldwin and their three children. Such a terrifying and chillingly plausible threat must have put her under unimaginable strain.
Coming in the same month as a new Netflix documentary series about the unsolved murder of Jill Dando, it’s a dark reminder of how celebrity culture can have fatal consequences. Toxic online trolling and media misogyny have only exacerbated the problem in the two decades since Dando’s tragic death. Willoughby’s Instagram statement about her departure said she was making the decision “for me and my family”. Stepping away from the spotlight is the sensible move.
Safety issues aside, she had already outgrown the show. There was nothing to be gained by continuing her association with its tarnished brand but potentially much to lose. It’s hardly like she needs the salary. Willoughby has a wide portfolio of commercial interests, including an M&S sponsorship deal and her own wellness brand Wylde Moon.
Reacting to her resignation, ITV’s director of television Kevin Lygo called her “one of the best loved, respected, most accomplished broadcasters in the UK… adored by our viewers”. Until the past 12 months, few would have questioned that description. Lygo made it clear that Willoughby will be offered more work by the commercial channel, calling her “a much-loved member of the ITV family”. As things stand, she’s still in line to present Dancing on Ice when it returns in January.
She’s been frequently slated since queuegate and the Schofield scandal but Willoughby remains one of our warmest, wittiest broadcasters. Snobs sneer at This Morning’s frothy content but hosting three hours of live TV every day is deceptively difficult. She made it look easy, segueing effortlessly from serious issues and celebrity interviews into lifestyle fripperies and phone-ins. She’s also more versatile than she’s given credit for. She showed her wicked sense of humour on panel game Celebrity Juice, let alone those regular This Morning moments when she’d get the giggles and go viral.
Willoughby’s career arguably has a far better chance of recovering than the show with which she’s become synonymous. After all, she’s done little wrong apart from a string of PR missteps. Despite what naysayers might have you believe, it’s not Willoughby who’s been accused of backstage bullying or predatory conduct.
She’s undoubtedly been through the mill but beneath the wholesome smile, Willoughby is a tough, resilient character. She’s the daughter of a double glazing salesman and an airline stewardess who worked ferociously hard to reach the top of the TV tree. She overcame dyslexia to become a success. Away from the glare of public scrutiny, this is a chance to take stock and reset her career.
As she plots a path to regaining her status as the nation’s small-screen sweetheart, Willoughby’s options are myriad. She could land her own chat show – still a male-dominated genre in the UK, which feels anachronistic in this inclusive age. She could renew her working relationship with long-time friends Ant and Dec. She could take a longer break from broadcasting to concentrate on her lucrative sideline as a lifestyle influencer and the face of fashion brands.
Perhaps most likely, she could pivot to primetime. After all, Davina McCall and Claudia Winkleman can’t present everything. Both have made the move from daytime fluff and reality trash to proper, populist programming. There’s no reason why she couldn’t follow in their Christian Louboutin footsteps. Despite Lygo’s insistence that ITV are “looking forward to working with her again”, Willoughby’s representatives keep letting it be known that she’s in talks with the BBC.
Liberated from This Morning, which had become an albatross around her neck, she could ascend to TV’s top tier again. Holly Willoughby may not be “OK” after enduring the ultimate year from hell, but her next career move promises to be a fascinating one.
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