A ragtag band of misfits is here to tell us the truth about virology – and it’s led by Britain’s least favourite stool sampler
Strictly scientifically – to use the term as she’d understand it – I have always held Gillian McKeith personally responsible for the 59-hour labour that preceded the birth of my first child. Gillian now seems to ply her trade as a Covidiot, but back in 2010, she was riding low in the 10th series of I’m a Celebrity … Get Me Out of Here!. Rightly ridiculed by the phoneline-voting public, Gillian was chosen to face trials night after night, from the minute she was relieved of her position in a light aircraft and forced to skydive into camp on the Sunday.
On the Tuesday evening, Gillian returned to her campmates with a mere one star, having failed to bosh the bushtucker trial menu with the same alacrity as Happy Mondays lead nutritionist Shaun Ryder. Faced with their increasingly surly hunger, Gillian retired to the quarters of the show doctor, where she was promptly discovered to have a tick. Or, if you prefer – and as comedy cliche demands – a tick was discovered to have Gillian McKeith. Either way, I laughed so much that my water broke.
