The new Voice family

AS soon as I asked the question, I knew I’d set up a gift …. for Boy George. I had been asked to interview the new line-up (Tom Jones and Rita Ora out, Boy George and Paloma Faith in, and Ricky Wilson back) for Lorraine. And talking of those famous, red seats I asked: “So, George, what would make you turn?”

Cue, Boy George laughing like a drain and booming with that rich, deep voice: “So far, nothing darling.” Sharp, real, vulnerable, bold, brave, different. It’s hard to fathom why it’s taken producers to realise Boy George is tv gold. Maybe it’s the jeopardy of not knowing what’s going to come out of his mouth – but that’s the thrill of watching.

I only hope contestants under the age of say 30 know how huge this man was – bigger in his prime than the other three combined and still here decades on. Will was exactly as you’d expect – excited and excitable at things most wouldn’t note.

“What, your name is seriously Martel Maxwell? Cool. Mar Max. Yeah.”

And Ricky – well there’s something about Ricky. I last saw him in the flesh at a warm-up gig backstage for the V Festival. His leg was in plaster after falling off a stage and his face beer-bloated, all those rock n roll nights just too tempting to pass. Now he’s slim and sharp in waistcoat and suits these days, eyes sparkly blue and the whites white. A fair few women have since told me they have a ‘thing’ for the Kaiser Chiefs frontman.

As for Paloma, she’s trademarking dizzy, daft and eccentric. It’s not an act, just that she’s also nailing this fame thing (tv shows, music, adorable roles like Tinkerbell in films) and as that doesn’t happen by accident, she’s also one bright cookie. What must happen for The Voice to gain credibility is the nurturing of its winner – gigs booked, tv appearances set, records released.

Anyway, I’d watch it for George alone.

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