Watching Mickey Rourke lurch into the Big Brother house and immediately turn AJ Odudu into a prop for his wandering hands was vomit-inducing. But then so was watching him brush his teeth in the kitchen sink. The disrespectful nature of men sexualising women at work – and yes, a sparkly set and live audience don’t change the fact that this is her workplace – is still so depressingly familiar. But for all intents and purposes, the show must go on. Or should it? Rourke has since cornered Jojo Siwa in the BB house, claiming that if he stays longer than four days, she won’t be gay anymore. His behaviour isn’t some big joke. We don’t want lecherous hands and eyes on us. We are not catering to the male gaze, if anything we cater to the males gays. Because they don’t prey on us like meat in a Vegas buffet. Of course, Rourke is a man whose face has seen more scalpel than sense, and who’s built a career on being the ‘bad boy’. So, colour me unsurprised that a Hollywood Hellraiser does what it says on the tin. But this isn’t the ’90s, Mickey – keep your hands, sleaze and homophobic comments to yourself. We need allies and I’m hoping to see Olympian Daley Thompson step up. I worked with him on a travel shoot in Cyprus a couple of years ago – toga party and all. He brought a touch of class to that trip and I’m hoping he does the same to the Big Brother house. Solve all problems with a punchline and piña colada The dust has barely settled on the third series of The White Lotus — HBO’s glossy, morally bankrupt ode to rich people ruining hotel buffets — and already another hotel-based comedy is threatening to roll a towel across the lounger of our collective screen time. Yes, Benidorm could be back. ITV’s ten-season ode to tan lines, toe rings and terminal sunstroke may return after an eight-year hiatus, and it’s either exactly what the doctor ordered — or the TV equivalent of sunburn in a place you can’t reach. Because, in an age of AI anxiety, tariff doom, and John Swinney looking like he accidentally booked a nudist resort, there’s something weirdly comforting (like have a Greggs at Queen Street station) about revisiting a show where every storyline is solved with a punchline and a piña colada. Benidorm wasn’t just a show. It was a lifestyle—where Brits roleplayed as their own stereotype with all the nuance of a conga line at a funeral. It gave us sun, sangria, and your nan snogging a stranger on a mobility scooter. But a lot has changed since we waved “adios” to the show. Gone are the days when the height of holiday ambition was a fry-up with Heinz beans in the Costa del Sol. Today’s Brit abroad is slightly more self-aware (though still weirdly proud of knowing how to ask for “dos cervezas, por favor”). Post-Brexit, we’re floating through Europe like the ghost of Empire’s past — passport queues that make the M8 at rush hour look like fast track, and escalating passive-aggressive sun lounger diplomacy at the pool. If Benidorm does return, it’ll need to grapple with our new holiday habits, including lacklustre Gen Z tourists — part-time vegan, full-time influencer — who spend most of their time in the hotel gym and call it a night by 10pm. And as we Brits spiral into our existential holiday meltdown, Spain is having a full-blown housing crisis tantrum. Benidorm has introduced beach bans between midnight and 7am, with fines of up to £1,030 for late-night dips or slumbering under the stars. Cigarettes and booze are now contraband and muggers are targeting tourists in dark alleys. Basically, if you’re trying to recreate the first half of an episode of Benidorm in real life, you’d better bring your wallet — and your lawyer. With anti-tourist protests sweeping Ibiza, Barcelona and even parts of the Costa Blanca, you start to realise: maybe we were the problem all along. Or at least, the loud, laminated-menu-reading, sunburnt symptoms of one. So why bring Benidorm back now? Because what we want more than prestige TV or plot twists is escapism. And nothing screams escapism like a holiday. It’s no coincidence that over 1.25million learning days were lost in Scotland last year due to unauthorised term-time holidays. That’s not just kids wagging school — it’s parents playing truant from reality. In these taxing times, every upcoming bank holiday (roll on Good Friday) is a chance to channel your inner Joyce Temple-Savage, crack open a lukewarm sangria and demand better weather, better wages, and better WiFi by the pool. The last decade of TV has evolved — Fleabag made us cry, Succession made us sad, and The Traitors made us question everything. To survive, a Benidorm reboot will need more than just leopard print and karaoke. Maybe, the Solana Resort could reflect not just where we holiday, but who we’ve become: still chaotic, still craving connection, but just a touch more conscious of how we behave in someone else’s home. Benidorm might not be prestige telly, but in a world this bleak, maybe what we need isn’t depth. It’s daftness. And a really good pool bar.