Danny Dyer’s royal Tudor relations prove the EastEnders actor is a ruff diamond
The Cockney actor was shocked to discover family links to one of Henry VIII's wives and two kings of England on BBC's Who Do You Think You Are?
NO sooner had Britain started to come to terms with the fact that Waldo’s dad, from The Little Rascals movie, is President-elect of the USA, than BBC1 dropped another bombshell last week.
And you better really brace yourselves for this one.
The rightful heir to the English throne is Mick Carter off EastEnders, otherwise known as Jeff from The Hooligan Factory or Danny “fackin’” Dyer to you and me, sunshine.
Not the easiest sentence I’ve ever typed, to be honest.
For try as I genuinely might to love Danny, I’m put off by the heavy hints at criminality and his excessive use of Cockney rhyming slang and all those “proper naughty” verbal tics.
They’re all born of his understandable insecurities, of course, as is an out-of-control ego which has recently been telling Radio Times he’s “a brilliant actor” who single-handedly saved EastEnders.
A verdict that’s open to debate, I’d say, given the soap’s currently an unwatchable, bin-obsessed disaster and his majesty is its central star.
What’s indisputable, though, is that he’s saved BBC1’s Who Do You Think You Are? with 60 of the most funny, touching and remarkable minutes of television I’ve been lucky enough to watch all year.
It didn’t start in particularly promising fashion, mind you.
In fact, for the first 25 minutes, it was just the usual WDYTYA? diet of infant death, a spell in “the work ass” and route one poverty porn.
Despite the rumours of money, it seemed, Danny was merely descended from a long line of formidable old East End bats whose criminal history was dwarfed by the long list of atrocities he’s committed to the silver screen.
What happened next, though, will probably enter television folklore.
He met a twinkly-eyed genealogist called Laura Berry, who’d discovered Danny was related to a civil war Royalist called Robert Gosnold.
This in turn led him to several historians and a plummy old fella called Lord Tollemache, who had the genuine honour of revealing the identity of Danny’s great grandfather x 15.
It was only Thomas “fackin’” Cromwell, adviser to Henry VIII and the 1st Earl of Essex.
News which, as you can imagine, completely did Danny’s “nut in”.
Everything that followed and immediately preceded the bombshell, however, was television from the gods, with my own highlight being Danny’s arrival at Lord Tollemache’s country pile.
“What a gaff you got ’ere, mate.” “Yes, I’ve put the drawbridge dine for you.” (Danny drives on a bit)
“Faaaaaarkin’ ell, geezer’s got a drawbridge.”
The shocks didn’t stop there, though.
Danny then went on to discover he’s also directly related to Edward III, Sir Henry Percy (Hotspur), William I (The Conqueror) and Henry VIII’s third wife, Jane Seymour (Dr Quinn, Medicine Woman).
By the end, his nut had “totally gone”.
“I carn believe. I caaarn believe it. I caaaaaaaarn . . . ”
We got the point. He couldn’t believe it.
And who could blame him?
Edward III, King of England, really is several steps above discovering your screen parents are Shirley the Terrahawk and Karl Howman from the Flash adverts.
There are heavy implications to consider here, though.
Not only will EastEnders nick the baby storyline and Morgana Robinson do a really bad parody, WDYTYA? will now grumble on for another five years trying and failing to repeat the miracle.
And then, of course, there’s Danny himself, who can either use the experience to broaden his horizons or ego.
But if he falls into the latter trap and simply craves adulation and titles, or even just an anagram, then please let me do the honours.
I’ll be only too happy to crown thee King Cnut II.
FILTH Corner. Qualified thanks to all 137 readers who sent in Gregg Wallace: “I’m desperate to dip that pork into something wet,” which was either MasterChef: The Professionals or his Tinder profile. But I prefer not to dwell.
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All too safe in TV bland
WEIRD place, Britain.
It’s almost incapable of taking anything seriously, apart from its light entertainment TV shows, which it treats like the Cuban missile crisis.
So every single year the rule book tappers, joke dodgers and all- round joy mops win.
Witness Sunday night, when a cabal of po-faced judges and BBC1 production staff changed the rules to get rid of Ed Balls who’s been a constant delight and the enduring image of Strictly Come Dancing 2016.
No sooner had he gone than Honey G was voted out by the judges and public, presumably because they haven’t noticed the use of backing tapes and miming elsewhere and actually think The X Factor is – no sniggering at the back – “A singing competition”.
Both shows are now dead and, thanks to television’s love of the bland and the safe, I’m a Celebrity is on life support, as I think Dec was trying to tell Lisa Snowdon, on Sunday.
“It was a really lovely bunch this year.
“There weren’t a lot of arguments.
“You seemed to get along in a lovely and, erm, heartwarming . . .”
“Was it boring?”
Yes. Heinously. Well done everyone.
GREAT SPORTING INSIGHTS
(Compiled by Graham Wray).
Great TV lies and delusions of the month
- The One Show, Matt Baker: “Alexander (Armstrong), the album is wonderful, it really is.”
- Have I Got News For You, Maureen Lipman: “I understand this is a comedy show.” (Was, Maureen, was.)
- And Good Morning Britain, Piers Morgan: “You’ll miss me, as will all the viewers, if I go to The White House.” Which he won’t, though it wouldn’t stop me reminding him all tour requests must be submitted with the British Embassy first.
TV GOLD
“Ahoy there . . . ” Silence.
Turmoil mermaid my day
WELL that was fairly predictable, I suppose. The moment I dismissed “a duff series of The Apprentice,” it produced the best episode of the run.
A vintage 60 minutes, in fact, complete with tears, funny costumes and “smoked salmon canapes . . . without the smoked salmon”.
This was the so-called events task which, in keeping with the spirit of the great city, saw both teams create authentically bloody awful nights out at a London landmark.
Winning effort was team Titans’ Fantasy Island experience, at the Aquarium, featuring a not-so-Little-Mermaid who “could hold her breath for a couple of minutes under water”, according to Grainne.
But, due to health and safety regulations, she was restricted here to a land-based role, wincing at sailor boy Dillon as he embalmed a couple of show tunes.
My own “night out” preference, however, would definitely have been for Nebula’s meltdown at Madame Tussauds, where, for just £65, £50, £35, £28 or, what the hell, £22, you could eat cream crackers, get drunk and watch Paul arguing with passive-aggressive Jessica, who was in full Peggy from Hi-de-Hi! mode for the duration.
Indeed, it could’ve been the series’ most spectacular balls-up, but for the fact little Trishna was almost word perfect on Madame Tussauds’ production process.
“The waxwork takes four months.
“The hair is individually inserted strand by strand, as well as the eyelashes and eyebrows,” before someone else adds the false teeth, acrylic resin breasts and packs it off, in a tea-crate, to the Australian jungle marked: “Carol 09020 442402.”
RANDOM TV IRRITATIONS
Because, my condescending Beeb friends, if we ignore all the missed opportunities in our own lives, you described it as: “A comedy.”
Lying b******s.
Lookalikes
THIS week’s £69 winner is Zoot, from The Muppets, and Honey G who, like Ed Balls on Strictly, has been the best thing on The X Factor.
Pity everyone who didn’t get the joke.
Sent in by Andrea Palmer, via email. Picture research: Alfie Snelling.
TOUR De Celeb, Channel 5, Monday, Louie Spence: “I hate the bikes, I hate the job, I hate everyone.” Snap.
I’M A Celeb location of the week? Joel Dommett: “Down by the creek, Scarlett, Wayne and I had a really good chat about our careers.” Without a paddle, presumably?