The title of Channel 4’s latest competition series, Game of Wool, hints at saucy scheming, so who better to host it than Tom Daley? During his recent stint on The Celebrity Traitors, Daley’s skullduggerous side-eyes caused a stir. Ditto his unbuttoned shirt. Views differ vis a vis the 31-year-old’s contribution (some thought: “Phwoar!” My feeling was: “You’re so vain!”). What’s undeniable is that the retired Olympian, knitting lover and LGBTQ+ activist made an impact, which will surely boost the fortunes of this eight-part show, marketed as the “anti-Great British Bake Off”.
Daley’s bod is very much on display in the Scottish “yarn barn”. In the first episode, which sees 10 knitting enthusiasts asked to create a tank top that tells us something about who they are, Daley models said tank-tops and thus gets to show off his outrageously toned arms. In episode three, he strips down to his Speedos. Yet the flashing of his flawless flesh doesn’t grate. Game of Wool’s scriptwriters seem aware Daley can’t get enough of himself, and playfully lean into that by giving him a co-host in the form of a knitted mini-me doll (“Wee Tom”). In this setting, Daley’s OTT persona is actually disarming. Later in the series, when a meek greyhound trots through the barn in a Ziggy Stardust outfit (complete with explosive orange “wig”), our MC all but levitates with delight. To say he’s passionate about this craft sounds like something from a press release. But he does appear genuinely flabbergasted by what the knitters achieve.
As someone who can barely make a Pom-Pom, I am in no position to judge the contestants’ technical skills. But I can vouch for the fact that – without exception – they are fascinating. Ferry worker Ailsa is abundantly creative and instinctively iconoclastic. Yet she has the air of a child tiptoeing around a cruel sleeping giant. Meanwhile, library worker Dipti has a smile that resembles a scream and is hilariously unable to handle time pressure (note her quiet despair as her tiny-necked tank top almost garottes Daley). Equally charming is blush-prone cruise ship singer, Gordon. I took one look at him and scribbled in my notes, “He’s lovely, but seems doomed.” Ah, well.
Gordon produces a vibrant tank top, which everyone decides is cockamamie. It’s no more bizarre, though, than a “shawl” sported by Tom (picture a deranged toga and you’ll still not be prepared for the unruliness of a garment that was apparently made for a fancy-pants firm called La Fetiche). The rules of this game can be hard to fathom.
In case you’re wondering, the format owes practically everything to Bake Off (and its spin-offs, The Great British Sewing Bee and The Great Pottery Throw Down), right down to the cutaways of cute sheep and verdant grass. One of several elements that sets the show apart, though, is the weekly group challenge (“The Big Knit”), which gives contestants an opportunity to boss each other around.
Basically, this section of the programme flushes out the autocrats in the room. Proudly queer German, Holger (who wittily refers to bashful ex-Royal Marine, Simon, as “housewives’ catnip”), assumes control of the “sofa” challenge. Spoiler alert: he attempts another power grab with the “Eighties jumper” challenge. Holger seems incapable of making anything ropey. As a former Savile Row fashion designer, though, he seems out of place in a group of amateurs. If he were to end up winning the whole thing, the citizens of Britain could be forgiven for running amok. I’m not encouraging anyone to hate on Holger. He’s simply over qualified for this show and absolutely must not emerge as the king of the castle.
Hopefully, firm but fair judges Di Gilpin and Sheila Greenwell will see to it that justice is done. Di is the emotional one. Sheila has the comic timing. Both find a way to let people down gently. Two middle-aged women in charge? How refreshing. If there’s a less bloke-y programme currently airing in Britain, I’d love to see it.
Whether you have a high tolerance for puns or groan every time you learn that a contestant is about to be “cast off”, it’s a privilege to watch these talented, tolerant and thin-skinned folk compete. Obviously, the mood between them could change (only the first few episodes were available for preview). And it would arguably be fitting if the barn proved to be a viper’s nest. The language these people use (“steeking”, “peeries”, “intarsia”) reeks of George RR Martin. But with or without blood-shed and bonking, this is must-see TV. Knit cry hug repeat? Happy sob. Yes, please!