#117 In a Pickle
01/05/25 21:10
I was going to write about Hacks because the fourth season is INCREDIBLE, but I already wrote a blog about the earlier series and to be honest don’t have much to add except it’s terrific and I will fight anyone who says otherwise.
Instead, I’m going to write about Stacey & Joe on BBC One, because it’s getting three and a half million viewers an episode, everyone I know seems to be watching it, and – full disclosure – it features separate appearances by my husband AND my son… You’re going to think I’m biased now, but I’m really not. It’s a great show. I’ll come to the fact that half my family have cameos in it, but first let me explain why this is a cut above your average fly-on-the-wall series.
Stacey and Joe are TV gold. Ms Solomon’s been a small screen superstar since she appeared on The X Factor back in 2009, belting out What a Wonderful World, her rich, leisurely, thoughtful performance blowing everyone away. It was so at odds with her gawky, girlish enthusiasm in conversation, and this sense of the ‘serious’ Stacey behind the giggly facade has always been intriguing. You could dismiss her as ditzy, naïve or even vacuous, but you’d be wrong – she’s sharp, single-minded and not nearly as straightforward as she appears.
If The X Factor gave us our first confounding glimpse of the ‘real’ Stacey, then this new BBC One series delves deeper into that dichotomy. In the series, we see her glammed up, flashing the falsies, but also barefaced, slumping in saggy joggers, with mussed-up, rooty hair. We see her picking walnuts with her son in the gorgeous garden of the sprawling Pickle Cottage, but we also see her ducks shitting on the sofa. We see her laughing, larking about, but also sniping at Joe, rolling her eyes, vulnerable, snappy and crappy. Having Stacey look unattractive makes her all the more attractive.
I wrote a review of With Love, Meghan a few weeks ago, more of an exercise to see if I could wring anything positive out of a bollocks-bad show that had become everyone’s piñata. I did my best, but there’s no denying it was pretty shite, because it was so very strained and not at all authentic. These kinds of shows are never unfeigned or unfiltered but the skill is in making them appear so. What Optomen have done here is make you believe their puppets are real - and relaxed - and that’s clever telly. We needed to see Meghan like we see Our Stace, lolling in unflattering leisurewear, nagging her spouse and stuffing her face with pop tarts. Maybe then she wouldn’t have got such a drubbing. (NB – she would still have got a drubbing. People are cunts.)
Joe, meanwhile – well, he’s lovely, isn’t he? Heart of gold, salt of the earth, a genuinely nice bloke… or is he? Caitlin Moran wrote about how this show is actually Mental Load – The Movie; how Joe, despite his lovability, is a useless git just like the rest of them, leaving his wife to shoulder the domestic burden. I think there’s something in that, him fucking off on his fishing trips and leaving her to carry the can, but at least he means well, and is a charming cheeky chappie about it. However, just like there are two sides to Stacey, Swashbuckling Joe has a darker shadow, and in the scene where they have the Essex version of Couples Therapy, suddenly the bonhomie dissipates and we’re left with a tense, frustrated couple who don’t know how to communicate. Joe, in particular, is at sea, rowing frantically away, trying to avoid it all, JUST LIKE A MAN. At one point, he says that if his friend Nick the Greek (‘he’s called Nick the Greek because… he’s Greek’) had a pair of boobies, then he’d prefer to be married to him. Really, if Nick was up for it, that might be better for all concerned. Not for the BBC though – they’re on to a winner here and need this marriage to work. The Swash/Solomon (Swolomon?) union must endure, for the sake of the nation.
Anyway, the reason my husband Tom Price is in this show is that he presents a podcast called My Mate Bought a Toaster (SHAMELESS PLUG ALERT!) which analyses the online purchase histories of celebrities. Since he’s a shopping addict with ADHD, Joe was the kind of guest Tom dreams of, and the production company needed a way of demonstrating his dubious consumer habits in an entertaining manner. So, Joe got Toasted and thus we discovered he’s bought rubber duck finger catapults for the kids, his n hers tongue scrapers, a sauna vest, and watermelon growing moulds in the shape of a heart. He’s all heart, Our Joe.
My son appeared in the fifth episode because it turns out his school is the Swash alma mater, and Joe goes back to talk to the students about – oh, you know, motivating stuff, succeeding against the odds etc. My son asked him what it was like to be married to Stacey Solomon, and had to read the question off his palm, because like Joe, he’s easily distracted and finds it hard to focus. Joe said it was ‘amazing’, then added that it was ‘amazing’ and also ‘amazing’, before dashing off to compete in a 6K Mud Run for charity, which he hadn’t trained for. Back at Pickle Cottage, you just know Stacey was rolling her eyes and picking up discarded rubber duck finger catapults. She’d be doing his washing later.
They drive you mad, don’t they?! But in the end, as they say on EastEnders, it’s ‘fahmerlee’ – Joe’s fahmerlee, Stacey’s fahmerlee, my fahmerlee; we’re all in it together.
Instead, I’m going to write about Stacey & Joe on BBC One, because it’s getting three and a half million viewers an episode, everyone I know seems to be watching it, and – full disclosure – it features separate appearances by my husband AND my son… You’re going to think I’m biased now, but I’m really not. It’s a great show. I’ll come to the fact that half my family have cameos in it, but first let me explain why this is a cut above your average fly-on-the-wall series.
Stacey and Joe are TV gold. Ms Solomon’s been a small screen superstar since she appeared on The X Factor back in 2009, belting out What a Wonderful World, her rich, leisurely, thoughtful performance blowing everyone away. It was so at odds with her gawky, girlish enthusiasm in conversation, and this sense of the ‘serious’ Stacey behind the giggly facade has always been intriguing. You could dismiss her as ditzy, naïve or even vacuous, but you’d be wrong – she’s sharp, single-minded and not nearly as straightforward as she appears.
If The X Factor gave us our first confounding glimpse of the ‘real’ Stacey, then this new BBC One series delves deeper into that dichotomy. In the series, we see her glammed up, flashing the falsies, but also barefaced, slumping in saggy joggers, with mussed-up, rooty hair. We see her picking walnuts with her son in the gorgeous garden of the sprawling Pickle Cottage, but we also see her ducks shitting on the sofa. We see her laughing, larking about, but also sniping at Joe, rolling her eyes, vulnerable, snappy and crappy. Having Stacey look unattractive makes her all the more attractive.
I wrote a review of With Love, Meghan a few weeks ago, more of an exercise to see if I could wring anything positive out of a bollocks-bad show that had become everyone’s piñata. I did my best, but there’s no denying it was pretty shite, because it was so very strained and not at all authentic. These kinds of shows are never unfeigned or unfiltered but the skill is in making them appear so. What Optomen have done here is make you believe their puppets are real - and relaxed - and that’s clever telly. We needed to see Meghan like we see Our Stace, lolling in unflattering leisurewear, nagging her spouse and stuffing her face with pop tarts. Maybe then she wouldn’t have got such a drubbing. (NB – she would still have got a drubbing. People are cunts.)
Joe, meanwhile – well, he’s lovely, isn’t he? Heart of gold, salt of the earth, a genuinely nice bloke… or is he? Caitlin Moran wrote about how this show is actually Mental Load – The Movie; how Joe, despite his lovability, is a useless git just like the rest of them, leaving his wife to shoulder the domestic burden. I think there’s something in that, him fucking off on his fishing trips and leaving her to carry the can, but at least he means well, and is a charming cheeky chappie about it. However, just like there are two sides to Stacey, Swashbuckling Joe has a darker shadow, and in the scene where they have the Essex version of Couples Therapy, suddenly the bonhomie dissipates and we’re left with a tense, frustrated couple who don’t know how to communicate. Joe, in particular, is at sea, rowing frantically away, trying to avoid it all, JUST LIKE A MAN. At one point, he says that if his friend Nick the Greek (‘he’s called Nick the Greek because… he’s Greek’) had a pair of boobies, then he’d prefer to be married to him. Really, if Nick was up for it, that might be better for all concerned. Not for the BBC though – they’re on to a winner here and need this marriage to work. The Swash/Solomon (Swolomon?) union must endure, for the sake of the nation.
Anyway, the reason my husband Tom Price is in this show is that he presents a podcast called My Mate Bought a Toaster (SHAMELESS PLUG ALERT!) which analyses the online purchase histories of celebrities. Since he’s a shopping addict with ADHD, Joe was the kind of guest Tom dreams of, and the production company needed a way of demonstrating his dubious consumer habits in an entertaining manner. So, Joe got Toasted and thus we discovered he’s bought rubber duck finger catapults for the kids, his n hers tongue scrapers, a sauna vest, and watermelon growing moulds in the shape of a heart. He’s all heart, Our Joe.
My son appeared in the fifth episode because it turns out his school is the Swash alma mater, and Joe goes back to talk to the students about – oh, you know, motivating stuff, succeeding against the odds etc. My son asked him what it was like to be married to Stacey Solomon, and had to read the question off his palm, because like Joe, he’s easily distracted and finds it hard to focus. Joe said it was ‘amazing’, then added that it was ‘amazing’ and also ‘amazing’, before dashing off to compete in a 6K Mud Run for charity, which he hadn’t trained for. Back at Pickle Cottage, you just know Stacey was rolling her eyes and picking up discarded rubber duck finger catapults. She’d be doing his washing later.
They drive you mad, don’t they?! But in the end, as they say on EastEnders, it’s ‘fahmerlee’ – Joe’s fahmerlee, Stacey’s fahmerlee, my fahmerlee; we’re all in it together.
- Stacey & Joe, 6 episodes, BBC One
- My Mate Bought a Toaster, 191 episodes, Acast
