“I am f***ing speechless that this utter garbage is on prime time Saturday night TV”.
This is just one (of many) withering tweets about The Masked Singer, which for the unfamiliar is an ITV competition that sees celebrities – sometimes said in inverted commas – don ridiculous, face-obscuring costumes and sing, as judges and viewers try to work out who could be ‘behind the mask’. It’s garish, glittering and yeah, maybe that angry tweeter was right, perhaps it is garbage… but that’s what makes it so utterly wonderful.
In fact, I’d argue that given the current state of our world, The Masked Singer is actually essential viewing.
Our news cycle, which I’m constantly plugged into, is rarely filled with anything positive (sorry.) From hate-spouting billionaire megalomaniacs wading in on politics, to the apocalyptic scenes emerging from the wildfires in California, compounded with the cost of living crisis, everything feels increasingly perilous and scary right now. Add in all the other challenges that come with just being a human, from illness to grief, and the mere act of being alive is frankly exhausting. Which is why we need our medicine – and for me, that comes in the form of Kate Garraway absolutely crucifying ‘Oh, what a beautiful morning!’ while dressed as ‘spaghetti bolognaise’. Complete with a fork fascinator balanced on top of her head, naturally.
In fact, the first time I ever tuned into the show, it was in response to a gnarly bereavement. After my grandma died a slow, heartbreaking death from cancer, I remember being curled up in a ball on her sofa, her house now eerily still, and not being able to stomach a gritty drama or any programme with an ounce of sadness in it. As various relatives wandered in and out of the room, talking about funeral plans and ‘next steps’, I’d taken to watching all of the happily-brain-numbing Shrek movies on a loop, submerging myself in a childlike safe space. The first thing I was able to watch outside of that, and that my family also agreed to have on in the background (given it sounded so bonkers)? The Masked Singer.
The background dancers, who have appeared dressed as everything from pigeons to traffic cones, can’t help but make me crack a smile. Half of the contestants turn out to be artists I loved growing up (and still do, if I’m honest), be it Ne-yo or Gabrielle, so the programme also gives me a nice hit of nostalgia when they take their gigantic cartoon heads off. It’s colourful and loud and silly, and that’s exactly what we need as an antidote to all the stressful, grey and serious things in life.
After my grandma’s death, and when we returned back to our respective homes, my mum and I – who usually have markedly different viewing tastes – continued to watch the show and would message one another our guesses (I always think everyone is Sheridan Smith; it never is.) I even got her tickets to see a live show for Mother’s Day, and we both loved seeing thingy-from-that-soap-opera dressed as an egg having a sing-off with comedian Bill Bailey, disguised as a 'space dog.' Whatever one of those is.
Now that the sixth season of Masked Singer has kicked back off, I’ll likely head to my parents’ house most Sundays to watch the show on catch-up. I write down everyone’s guesses in a Note on my phone, even my dad’s (who pretends he’s definitely not watching, before randomly shouting out the name of a 90s footballer who I’ve never even slightly heard of.) My boyfriend, reluctantly, also sometimes gets dragged along and has an infuriating talent at guessing people correctly without an ounce of effort. He’ll hear a single note and without even looking up from his phone will say “that mushroom is Charlotte Church, by the way."
If you’re also looking for a bit of escapism right now, I’d highly recommend giving it a go. Keep your expectations low and your capacity for stupid joy wide open. And hey, who knows, given the way the world seems to be going right now, we may well end up with an oversized singing hot dog as our next leader. Why not get prepared? Failing that, let all the emotion out and have a little cry over Lemar singing Vanessa Carlton’s 'A Thousand Miles' while dressed as a cricket (the green kind), surrounded by violin-playing bees.
The Masked Singer continues on ITV.
