The things we used to laugh at him for have become heaving, unacknowledged currents under British politics
There’s no kind way of saying this, and it’s a conclusion most of Britain has come to independently, but it’s worth saying anyway: Noel Edmonds is often a prize wally.
To grab a few of the greatest hits from the top of a skyscraping pile of examples: Noel Edmonds used to drive a black cab to work on Deal or No Deal alongside a fully dressed female mannequin named Candice who sat in the front seat.
Noel Edmonds believes in “orbs”, bundles of spiritual energy “about the size of melons” which follow him around and can travel at “between 500 and 1,000 miles per hour”.
Noel Edmonds said in 2015 that “electrosmog” is the greatest problem facing humanity, because interference from Wi-Fi is destroying “our natural electro-magnetic fields”.
Noel Edmonds once told a man with kidney cancer that his illness might be caused by his “negative attitude”.
Noel Edmonds once said: “There isn’t such a thing as death… You cannot die. It’s been known for a very long time”.
Between Radio 1, Swap Shop, Telly Addicts, Noel’s House Party and Deal or No Deal, there was an unbroken golden thread of Noel Edmonds in British life for about 40 years. But in 2018 he was choppered out of the I’m a Celebrity jungle for a new life in New Zealand, and out of the public consciousness.
Now he’s back with new ITV documentary series Noel Edmonds’ Kiwi Adventure, which follows his attempts to run a vineyard and pub in New Zealand. And – spoiler alert – Edmonds remains a wally.
But watching it is also a reminder that Noel Edmonds is one of the great political seers of our time, a Dominic Cummings who’s swapped his Substack for a blow-dry and a dreamcatcher. We used to laugh at Noel. But now, the things we used to laugh at him for have become heaving, unacknowledged currents under British politics.
But wait – to get into the great man’s aura, let us follow Edmonds’s six-part wellness routine. There’s time on his “crystal bed”, having low-frequency soundwaves wibbled through his body by “Vogel crystals” as a pastel light display twinkles above him. (He looks like he’s trying to meditate under the halogen lamps at a Toby Carvery, but what do I know.)
He pulses electromagnetic energy into his chest. He does a very slow work-out. He drinks “structured water”. “This is water in its purest form!” Edmonds says excitedly, as a gadget on his kitchen counter swirls a carafe of the stuff around. And, given such a spinny thing goes for about £250 online, you’d certainly hope so.
Ahhhh. That’s better. Now: let the crystal waves wash over you. Mmm. We’re going back to 2008, when a post-Deal or No Deal Edmonds is using his new imperial phase to declare war on the press officer of Wealden District Council in East Sussex.
His new Saturday night show Noel’s HQ is mostly about doing nice things for nice people, but right now Edmonds is going demagogue. “Are you unhappy with life in Britain today?” he asks, goatee set to “serious”. “Are you concerned with the lack of respect, compassion and freedom in our society? Would you like to be part of a fairer, more caring Britain?”
One thing he’s certain of is that Westminster isn’t going to be much use. “It’s down to you, me, them, and everyone who wants to live in a more caring society.”
It’s about as close as any light entertainment personality has yet got to raising a citizens’ rebellion and marching on Downing Street. It would have looked genuinely intimidating, had most of the audience not been wearing oversized novelty foam hands.
In pre-Partygate, pre-expenses scandal Britain, it seemed like all that cosmic ordering had fried his brain. On Noel’s HQ he railed at PC gone mad and screamed at Wealden District Council’s press officer that he was “at the heart of everything that’s wrong with this country”.
But now the idea that Britain is finished, weighed down by bureaucracy and eroded by apathy, is common. Liz Truss’s obsession with “the Blob”? Pure Edmonds.
The wibbly-woo spiritualism and slightly messianic streak used to be self-evidently absurd. Now there are thousands of Noel Edmonds’ out there: on LinkedIn, on faux-profound grindset podcasts, on Instagram, turning quasi-spiritual ideas about purpose and intention into business-speak slop. The whole “high performance” ecosystem of CEO bros sharing their 5am cold shower routine is powerfully Edmonds-coded.
And remember how everyone laughed at Edmonds’s “cosmic ordering”, when after several years of no telly work he simply asked the universe to provide him with a primetime TV show? Now, 39 per cent of adults in the UK believe that manifesting works.
Even the kookiest end of his beliefs pales next to what we’ve seen in the last 10 years. Electrosmog and melon-sized orbs? Kids’ stuff – try rioting over online conspiracy theories, or Tory MP Nick Fletcher declaring 15 minute cities an “international socialist concept” that “will cost us our personal freedom”. This stuff is in Hansard! It’s there forever!
Britain has lurched toward the weird, especially since the pandemic, and it’s infecting our politics. Lots of people who feel angry or exasperated or frightened about events now look for explanations beyond what institutions tell them, and some politicians are happy to wink at it if it helps them get a leg up.
Yet Edmonds was ahead of the curve here too. “The politicians,” he declared in 2008, “have had their day.”
That’s a sentiment you’ll hear again and again and again: they’re all in it for themselves, they don’t know how real people live, they’re all as bad as each other. And look, if you don’t want to look like you’re in it for yourself then probably don’t help yourself to freebie tickets and suits and glasses.
But it’s broadly not true, even if it feels true to a lot of people. The three things Edmonds voiced back in 2008 – resentment, frustration, and a yearning for explanations outside the dreary everyday – are what are powering a lot of people’s views. They could well shape the next Parliament.
Noel Edmonds looked weird once. But now Britain looks a lot like Noel Edmonds.