‘I am Jesus!': the TV brilliance of Noel Edmonds

He is risen. He is risen indeed. Six years after he huffed off to New Zealand in a hail of tuts, tsks and never-liked-you-anyways, Noel Edmonds has returned to our screens with a message for humanity. 'We're not trees,' he proclaims. 'We can move.' Noel Edmonds – and there can be no doubt that this is very much Noel Edmonds – is referring to his decision to leave the UK with his wife (Liz, 55) in order to establish an 800-acre hospitality business in the sobbingly beautiful South Island idyll of Ngatimoti. He doesn't like Britain any more, he says. It has 'changed'.
But Noel – as his new programme, Kiwi Adventure, makes blisteringly clear – has not changed. He looks like a child's sand drawing of Aslan. He believes in 'the universal energy system', wears combatively tight linen T-shirts and has baths so cold he fears openly for the future of his scrotum. He is a deeply odd man. And yet. From the depths of the oddness re-emerges an imperishable truth: Noel Edmonds, for better or worse, is clinically incapable of making uninteresting TV.
Here, then, are seven of the most notable emissions from the man's party cannon.
'Swap Shopppp,' bugled the theme tune, heralding the all-too-brief golden age of Saturday morning TV, an inflatable neon wonderland in which a jubilantly youthful Noel Edmonds could ask Kate Bush how she got her hair to go like that.
Ferociously watchable studio quiz in which square-eyed families went cardigan-to-cardigan over questions about Blue Peter and Keith Chegwin. The winner? Knitwear. The runner-up? Telly. Noel's stewardship – aggressively serviceable action-slacks, smirk like the judgment of Zeus – would lend much-needed tension to the soft furnishings, thus plunging the McPerms of Perth and the Vauxhall-Cavaliers of Nantwich into a perpetual Scooby Doo-based deathmatch. Bring it back!
Welcome ye to 'Crinkley Bottom,' an illusory fiefdom in which unsuspecting celebrity visitors (Dave Lee Travis, Edwina Currie etc) were greeted with mockery, gunge and often startlingly physical 'gotchas'. Pivotal to the chaos were Noel (presentational style: giggling necromancer) and bubonic familiar Mr Blobby, whose monosyllabic distress and sudden bouts of confused violence would attract audiences of 15 million. The House Party manifesto was as simple as the era in which it was conceived: hysterical conviviality for all, unless you're Dave Lee Travis, in which case we'll break your legs.
Noël, Noël, Noël, Noël / Born is the King of Bra-aa-aaacknell. And Hove. And Ipswich, Canada, Finland and Crewe. The premise whispered of doom and seasonal biliousness but in reality the annual sight of Edmonds guffawing around the world to deliver festive reunions and white goods to the sickly and deserving was … not great, precisely, but also, crucially, not cack. The reason? Our host's unique ability to sidestep mawkishness while dressed as, variously, Santa, a Victorian dignitary and a garden gnome. He's called Noel for a reason, you know.
The concept? Simple. The Noel? Guarded; tightly bearded; visibly uncomfortable around pensioners. The subsequent, sweltering tension – will Doris from Thanet attempt to engage him in a conversation about her dead husband for longer than her allotted 30 seconds? – would turn a daytime gameshow about cardboard boxes into a potentially lethal game of chance.
Emboldened by the success of Deal or No Deal?, Edmonds' (brief) return to Saturday night TV found our subject very much in 'Noel's narked off' mode, sprinting through the obligatory 'members of the public rewarded for charitable deeds' bits in order to address the vexed issue of 'Broken Britain'. And lo, Noel didst upbraid bungling councils, bellow about bylaws and deliver sudden, snarling exhortations to know thy consumer rights lest the heavens split asunder and ye be cast into the eternal fire of implied warranty (Hotpoint 3:11-13). The subtext? I (Noel Edmonds) am angry, thus you (the viewer/Broken Britain/God) must pay. It was, in a very real sense, Brexit's patient zero.
'I am rocking,' intones Noel, emerging from his hyperbaric chamber like a blow-dried Christ. 'I. AM. ROCKING.' Broadcast this sort of stuff from a regional news studio and viewers would be lunging for the nearest mallet. But here, buttressed by a gasp-inducing mountain range and a preternaturally tolerant wife, Edmonds takes on an air of … vulnerability? Likability? Besides, the man's 76. If he wants to say 'I am Jesus' while wearing utility shorts in an outdoor shower, who are we to object? After six decades of televisual brilliance, awfulness, jumpers, Alan Partridge-esque hubris and comb-through hair colour, Noel Edmonds, perhaps more than anyone, has earned the right to be Noel Edmonds. Let us give thanks.
Noel Edmonds' Kiwi Adventure is on ITV1 at 9pm.

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Learn with AIFact CheckingText to SpeechAI Summary

Related Articles

Times

3 hours ago

• Times

Noel Edmonds is back — and it's pure Alan Partridge meets David Brent

Aah, Noel Edmonds, Noel Edmonds. Have you not all missed our cosmic pixie who once asked a man if he thought his cancer was caused by his 'negative attitude' and whose pet name for his genitals is 'Mr Happy and the Twins'? No? Fair enough; me neither. But I'll say this about Mr Light Entertainment, a man who believes you can 'ask' the universe for things, like a heavenly Evri parcel service. His comeback TV show is extraordinary. But possibly not in the way he intended. Noel Edmonds' Kiwi Adventure confirms that Edmonds is essentially David Brent and Alan Partridge melded into the one body, with a dash of Colin Hunt from The Fast Show. He works very hard at being 'a character'. He is like a sun-kissed lion with blond highlights who is enormously pleased with himself. But who very much wants to be liked.

Telegraph

3 hours ago

• Telegraph

Noel Edmonds' Kiwi Adventure has more in common with Meghan Markle than Jeremy Clarkson

Never one to knowingly undersell himself, Noel Edmonds has been busily promoting his show as the new Clarkson's Farm. Having watched it all, I can tell you that this would only be true if Jeremy Clarkson abandoned all self-knowledge and spent every episode behaving like a complete prat, while sharing a shedload of pseudo-scientific woo-woo. Clarkson's Farm vs Noel's Funny Farm. There's really no contest. Edmonds upped sticks several years ago for a new life in New Zealand, where he has spent tens of millions of dollars on an 800-acre estate called River Haven. It boasts – 'boasts' being an appropriate word to use in the Noel-sphere – a vineyard, restaurant, wellness centre and a pub named The Bugger Inn. At one point he suggests taking on Clarkson in a pub quiz: 'I quite fancy The Bugger Inn taking on Diddly Squat. We'd wipe 'em out.' But however much he tries to copy elements of Clarkson's show, from farmyard sidekicks to messing around with heavy machinery, Noel Edmonds' Kiwi Adventure actually occupies the midpoint between With Love, Meghan and Castaway with Phillip Schofield. Which is to say that it mixes prettily shot lifestyle nonsense with a transparent yearning to reclaim the affections of the British public and a determination to address perceived slights. Like Castaway, it is revealing in ways that the subject never intended. Before we get into the psychology of the thing, though, let's explore Edmonds' health regimen. The show opens with him having a cold shower in his garden, which he tells us is one of the six components of his lifestyle formula. He's undeniably in great shape for a 76-year-old, so maybe we should all give it a try. Eating well and exercising seem pretty standard, even if he refers to the exercising as 'tranquil power' (this just means using an exercise machine quite slowly, as far as I can tell). Then things get a little more mad. Edmonds has thrice-weekly stints in a hyperbaric chamber with an oxygen tube up his nose, and lies on a bed below what look like a row of cheap Christmas lights but are apparently quartz crystals surrounded with something called 'orgone' which help him to connect with 'the bigger matrix, the universal energy system'. Mm-hmm. He 'VIBEs', which stands for 'visualisation of body energy'. Then there's the 'structured water', which is somehow magnetised and 'doesn't have to process through your liver, kidneys and all that other malarkey'. Edmonds thinks he knows a lot about science. 'Why, at the point of what some people call death but I call departure, why does the body weigh less than it did when it had life? And that is a scientific fact.' Well, it isn't, but Edmonds believes it's because your soul has left your body. The best thing that Edmonds has going for him is his wife, Liz, a former make-up artist on Deal or No Deal, whom he dubs his 'earth angel'. This is the one crossover with Clarkson's Farm – Liz even looks like Lisa, Clarkson's other half. They met (in 2007) at six minutes past 11, and so the clocks in their house are perpetually set to that time as a reminder of their love. This seems a little… intense. Edmonds, a good TV presenter and a great creative mind in his day, is at pains to come across as warm, self-deprecating and brimming with humour. He taps into the zaniness that was his calling card on Noel's House Party. But there are hints of brittleness and an Alan Partridge self-regard. He has commissioned the props studio behind Lord of the Rings to make a giant sculpture of a knight which commemorates his victory in a financial case against HBOS. When an employee says they were together in a past life, Edmonds seems rather worried that the employee might have been above him in the pecking order back in Ancient Rome. He goes on about his partnership with Liz but refers to their 50:50 efforts as the work of 'Team Noel'. There is a brief reference at the outset to the fact that his arrival wasn't universally welcomed by the locals. 'There were a few people not being very kind,' he says, but glosses over it. When he relaunches his pub, the crowds seem quite sparse – in contrast with the queues at Diddly Squat – but it's unclear whether that is down to a likeability gap between him and Clarkson, or because River Haven appears to be in the middle of nowhere. Don't expect an honest, fly-on-the-wall documentary. Check the credits and you'll see that the 'series consultant' on the show is, um, Noel Edmonds.

Metro

4 hours ago

• Metro

Inside the New Zealand village ‘colonised' by Noel Edmonds ahead of documentary

Noel Edmonds has been accused of 'colonising' the New Zealand village that is now the subject of an ITV series. The 76-year-old former Deal Or No Deal presenter reportedly bought £30million worth of property in the Motueka Valley. Originally, the Mr Blobby star and his wife bought a five-bedroom home on an 11-hectare estate at Matakana, north of Auckland in 2021. But two years later they relocated to the rural Ngātīmoti village, which is home to just 2,500 people. After being accused of 'taking over' the quiet village after he was reportedly permitted to buy 12 houses and build a restaurant, shop and coffee house in his land – his journey has been captured in a six-part series on ITV. Despite his umbrella estate being called River Haven, various anonymous locals have been disgruntled with his reported 'colonisation' of their patch. Noel is fronting the new ITV series called Noel Edmonds' Kiwi Adventure – which follows his life working on a farm alongside his wife Liz. In the series it is explained that the pair were inspired to move to the country after visiting following his exit from the Australian jungle during his stint on the popular reality show in 2018. Noel is quoted by the Daily Star newspaper's Hot TV column as saying: 'I was in Australia on I'm A Celebrity and I got voted out a bit quickly. 'As part of the arrangement, ITV organised for us to visit New Zealand. That trip cemented things for us. In 2019, we sold everything in the UK. 'We left Heathrow for rented accommodation in the UK, knowing absolutely no one. It was quite bold.' The former game show host has claimed that his new series is nothing like Jeremy Clarkson's hit show Clarkson's Farm. He told The Sun newspaper: 'When we were filming our show, some people who knew about Clarkson's Farm said to me, 'Oh, is it like Clarkson's Farm?' 'And I said, 'No, it couldn't be more different.' First of all, I'm not like Jeremy in many ways, though I wish I were. 'He's brilliant. He can articulate an argument beautifully and deliver a sharp, humorous line like no one else.' Edmonds has experience of farming after working in agriculture in Devon since the 1980s and praised Clarkson for showing the tough realities of the profession. Explaining the 'three things in particular' he admires about Clarkson's Farm, Noel said: 'First, the production values — the way it's made, the narrative structure — it's exceptional. Not contrived, but very well-constructed. 'Second, he's highlighted how mad our relationship is with public servants. Jeremy trying to get permission for a restaurant, a shop, a car park… dealing with council staff who don't seem to understand they are public servants. 'They are meant to serve the public. He's shown how difficult they make things. Third, and most importantly, he's shown how hard it is to be a farmer.' Previously, it was reported that two couples Noel and his wife Elizabeth Davies became friendly with in Matakana came with them to the village in South Island, and lived in Edmonds' property, and worked on the estate. This led many to joke the former Breakfast Show host was creating a 'commune'. Commune or not, in his controversially-named pub, it's been said that Edmonds sells an array of X-rated drinks including a lager called T*ts Up and a 'ladies favourite' called the Dickens Cider. The publication report while Edmonds justifies this as 'Kiwi' humour, some locals deem all this 'Benny Hill stuff' unacceptable. Within the beautiful backdrop of forest and snow-capped mountains, locals aren't happy and would only speak to the publication anonymously, given the close-knit community in which they have to live side-by-side with Edmonds. 'He's got this attitude… about how he's improved the place and made it amazing – it was already amazing,' one woman said. 'I just feel like he's a coloniser and… he's come in like the Lord of the Manor,' said another local. Edmonds' estate's catchphrase is 'positively together' and he told the publication he was acquiring property to 'make a difference'. 'I'm here… to give, to make a difference. My love has always been the environment, the countryside. I haven't just been buying property for the sake of it,' he said. Noel has also raised eyebrows within the community by beetling around in 'brand new Ford Ranger Wildtraks, jacked up on huge wheels and pimped out with light bars, aerials' complete with sirens and a loud 'public address system'. Apparently convoys of these vehicles would motor up and down the valley, with lookers-on wondering what the hell was going on. His number plates also reflect his NSFW, er, humour as he reportedly likes playing around with the number 4 and letter Q to spell out 'f**k you.' Noel claims he wants to assimilate himself into the community, and recently paid the village school's £3,000 bill for traffic management during the village's annual bustling festival. When the reporters met up with him, at one point he said they should be asking him how he looks so good at his age. For anyone wondering, it's a daily session of electro-magnetic field therapy and one hour a week in an oxygen chamber. When asked whether he can pronounce the name of his home village now – after confessing to not being able to when he arrived – the Noel's House Party star replied: 'Yeah, I'll pronounce it the way that somebody said last week, that it's Noeltimoti.' In a recording obtained by the publication, Edmonds can be heard raising his voice to a woman named Belinda Crisp, a cycle trail manager who agreed to meet with the TV star on his estate to discuss a previously approved cycle trail through one of his properties. Before Edmonds moved to the area last year, the Nelson Tasman Cycle Trail Trust had approval from the Tasman District Council and the Government to build a cycle trail here as part of the region's Great Taste Trail. Expecting a logistical conversation about how they could make it work for everyone, Crisp was instead greeted by a voice recorder in River Haven's café and a bristled Edmonds after she explained who she worked for. 'When he heard [the council], he said, 'you're the servant and I'm the ratepayer, so I'm the master',' Crisp recalled. More Trending In the tape, he can allegedly be heard saying: 'All hell's gonna break loose, right. And while you, still, have this attitude you are not welcome here. Don't even think about having a coffee, having a slice… you are our enemies.' He raised his voice: 'You are our enemies. You have to be defeated otherwise you're gonna bring down this wonderful country. 'Yes you are, because you're so proud. Anyway, good luck with it. As we say in Britain, 'on yer bike'.' This article was first published on November 4, 2023. Got a story? If you've got a celebrity story, video or pictures get in touch with the entertainment team by emailing us celebtips@ calling 020 3615 2145 or by visiting our Submit Stuff page – we'd love to hear from you. MORE: MP holds up a naked photo of herself in parliament to prove an important point MORE: Teenager dies after 'dangerous' social media rugby trend