‘Spill your guts or fill your guts’: Performative celebrity masochism and audience sadism in food challenge media

ABSTRACT

This article argues for the consideration of food challenge media as a mode in which the audience’s sadistic desire for the levelling of celebrities ‘through personal humiliation’ is captured and repurposed through the performative masochism of the celebrities themselves. Celebrity food challenge media, a term which I use to refer to programming such as a The Late Late Show with James Corden segment called ‘Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts’ and the YouTube show Hot Ones, exists as a space in which celebrities (who tend to typify ostentatious wealth) allow for controlled humiliation in order to diffuse legitimate anger and critique from the audience in an era of soaring inequality. This article posits that in exchange for light humiliation, such as the consumption of an ostensibly disgusting food or the pain of an incredibly spicy hot sauce, the celebrity retains the power, privilege, and income afforded to them by their celebrity status.

KEYWORDS:

• Food challenge media
• celebrity schadenfreude
• performative masochism
• tabloidisation
• gossip media

‘We are dealing … with a victim in search of a torturer … who needs to educate, persuade, and conclude an alliance with the torturer in order to realize the strangest of schemes’ (Gilles Deleuze 1967, p. 20).

A table, topped with numerous plates, bowls and jugs brimming with liquids, pastes and bugs, spins languidly, propelled by British late-night host and actor James Corden. Kim Kardashian sits opposite him. As the table eventually comes to a stop, a tall glass of liquefied sardines sits in front of her. Corden reads from a card; ‘there have been lots of rumours of your sisters being pregnant. Are they true?’ In the subsequent hushed silence, Kardashian dutifully lifts the glass to her lips then takes a sip to raucous cheers. Her face contorts in disgust, and she is forced to spit the drink into a nearby bucket as the audience laughs.

This moment in a November 2019 episode of The Late Late Show with James Corden (2015 –), during a segment called ‘Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts’, displays a key development in late-night programming. ‘Spill Your Guts’ adapts to a convergent media landscape, using concise and self-contained segments developed with the aim of viral transnational proliferation (McNutt 2017, Kies 2021). Moreover, its raison d’etre is ‘celebrity schadenfreude’ (Littler and Cross 2010, Gies 2011, Watt Smith 2018), ‘the act of gleefully watching or pushing celebrities from their pedestals’ which ‘has become a major cultural trope’ (Littler and Cross 2010, p. 396) in contemporary media consumption.¹ Celebrity food challenge media, here exemplified by ‘Spill Your Guts’ and YouTube-based interview show Hot Ones (2015-) utilises a performative masochism that I argue is present across various media environments, in order to neutralise the sadistic impulse of an audience that desires celebrity humiliation. Performative masochism, as well as celebrity schadenfreude, have long histories in celebrity culture and segments such as ‘Spill Your Guts’ exist in a genealogy with tabloid and gossip media that I will attempt to outline alongside my analysis.

The performatively masochistic televisual mode proffers scenarios in which celebrities appropriate the audience’s desire to see them humiliated, injured, and tormented, and deploy it in such a way as to be read as authentic, thus acting as release valves for the impulses of a schadenfreude desiring audience. As such, if these shows provide ‘vicarious pleasure in the witnessing of the powerful being made less powerful’ and feelings of schadenfreude and sadism are an ‘attempt to address or deal with a severe imbalance of power’ (Littler and Cross 2010, p. 399) the masochistic performativity of the celebrities themselves is a neutralising factor beyond simply an appeal to authenticity. It constitutes a sacrificial mode which seeks to reinstate the hierarchy of celebrity through its own denigration. Celebrity schadenfreude and performative masochism seek to ‘mobilize celebrity longevity and act as a means to enable celebrity culture to feed ever more inventively off its own carcass’ (411). ‘Spill Your Guts’ deploys notions of celebrity schadenfreude in order to feed the audience's desire for sadistic pleasure. Performative celebrity masochism brokers a trade for satiating more dangerous impulses in audience sadism.

As torture has been dispersed into ‘the realm of popular entertainment via the spectacle’ of reality television (McCarthy 2007, p. 30), I argue that the ‘strangest of schemes’ which I allude to in the epigraph is the strengthening of hierarchy through light humiliation, thus defusing the desire for a larger humiliation that could potentially topple a celebrity. In this scenario, the victim (the celebrity) arranges an alliance with the torturer (the audience), in which they are humiliated in exchange for the granting of relevancy, authenticity, or the neutralising of negative feeling. Concurrently the alliance between the two works inversely in which the victim (audience), who have been made victim through inequality generated by a system in which celebrities are granted disproportionate wealth, power, and influence, enters an accord with the torturer (celebrity), who can continue to benefit from the system, in exchange for seeing them face a modicum of humiliation. This ouroboros of schadenfreude resembles Mark Fisher’s (2009) analysis of capital, in that it effectively absorbs and redeploys anti-capitalist sentiment to diffuse animosity and prevent action. Thus, ‘Spill Your Guts,’ Hot Ones and others, tactically disperse audience desire to ‘level’ celebrities. I argue that celebrity schadenfreude has been co-opted by celebrities themselves and redeployed through the cultural machine of American late-night television in order to neutralise and commodify the impulse to knock a celebrity from their pedestal. It is in food challenge media that this performatively masochistic impulse becomes particularly bare.

I should note that I use the term ‘food challenge media’ to designate what I see as a loosely connected series of Late-Night segments, YouTube channels, and reality television shows that revolve around the consumption of unpalatable foods. Although there are popular online shows which conform to this description, such as ‘Eat it or Yeet It’ hosted on the YouTube channel Smosh, numerous ‘Food Challenge’ videos posted by popular Indian YouTubers Hungry Birds and television shows such as Man vs Food (2008-) these do not feature what can be considered ‘A-List’ celebrities in any significant way. The hosts and participants themselves are micro-celebrities (Marwick 2013) or gain fame through the show, however I focus on food challenge media that prominently features ‘A-list’ celebrities as although micro-celebrities have an increased amount of cultural capital (often becoming A-List themselves after a certain amount of time) they do not exist in hyper-visible positions across numerous and varied media ecologies in the way A-list celebrities do.

Celebrity schadenfreude and tabloidisation

Celebrity schadenfreude can be seen as an attempt to address or deal with a severe imbalance of power (Littler & Cross 2010, p. 399) and as such can be seen as a threat to the career, income, relevance, and reputation of a celebrity who falls victim to ridicule. I argue that there is a sadistic impulse in this desire and that it emerges forcefully in the 1990s and 2000s as neoliberalism intensifies and mobilises around ‘versions of identity politics and cultural policies [that are] inextricably connected to economic goals for upward distribution of resources’ (Duggan 2003, p. xx). As perhaps the most visible and accessible beneficiaries of this upward distribution, celebrities become a repository for a sadism that is generated by rapidly growing inequality. In response, some celebrities begin to act in kind with a seemingly performative masochistic desire for a controlled² version of public humiliation.

When I use the terms masochism and sadism here, I do not intend to invoke pathology. Hence the prefix ‘performative’. I do not mean to imply that the celebrity finds pleasure in humiliation or pain, but instead understands, whether implicitly or explicitly, that to be humiliated in that moment will be professionally beneficial. A brief note on my use of ‘audience sadism’ is also necessary. Sadism, as derived from the Marquis de Sade, more often than not references a specific sexual pleasure derived from the pain and humiliation of others. The sadism of the audience seeking the pain and humiliation of celebrities, is not necessarily sexual and conforms more to what Erin Buckles, Daniel Jones and Delroy Paulhus call ‘everyday sadism’ (Buckles et al. 2013, p. 2201). Everyday sadism is a ‘subclinical form of sadism’ which emerges from interest in ‘commonplace manifestations of cruelty’ such as violent video games, slasher films, brutal sports, and, I argue, an investment and interest in celebrity schadenfreude.

Celebrity schadenfreude develops from the proliferation of tabloid culture³ in the 1990s and 2000s. Tabloid media’s focus on images which are ‘often stark, raw, unprettified, and unsanitized’ as well as its penchant for dwelling on ‘social and moral disorder … [the] ubiquity of victimization and the loss of control over the outcome’s events, and of one’s fate’ (Glynn 2000, 7) means it often focuses on intimate and compromising images of celebrities on the verge of a breakdown, highlighting rise-and-fall narratives and the vicissitudes of celebrities caught in embarrassing, humiliating or revealing moments such as Britney Spears.⁴ Celebrity schadenfreude more specifically is one element in the larger ecosystem of tabloidized celebrity depreciation. The by now ubiquitous long lens grainy snapshot of (often female) celebrities in moments of despair or excess reveals a desire not only to be granted access to the private lives of celebrities, but also to judge and ridicule them for their choices, a phenomenon notable for being highly classed and gendered. As Lieve Gies (2011) puts it, ‘female celebrities of a lower-class status are often subjected to very high levels of public scrutiny and punitive media commentary’ (347) and the 2000s and early 2010s may be seen as the peak of this particular tabloid development, with the high-profile cases of Spears, Amy Winehouse, and Caroline Flack, among others being pilloried in both the British and American presses for what were considered transgressive and unruly actions unbecoming of a celebrity. Diane Negra and Su Holmes (Holmes and Negra 2008) note that ‘the celebrity gossip industry is adept at generating narratives about the accumulation and misuse of wealth that are steeped in capitalist dogma’ (4) and often base critique of any celebrity who is seen as ‘undeserving’ of their new status around ‘old-fashioned class politics’ (4). In recent years tabloids have changed, after several high-profile deaths and breakdowns attributed in part to constant media harassment, tabloid media’s casual cruelty has been toned down with many offering apologies and retractions in the wake of contemporary backlash.

Tabloid culture, and by extension celebrity schadenfreude, in many ways emerges from, and is interlinked with gossip. In the studio-era, historically, ‘publicists … actively promoted the lives of Hollywood stars, usually in ways which support a positive image’ (McNamara 2016, p. 110). In order to create interest in a new star, the studios would often leak promotional material, rumours of a romance with an established star, or a story about their ‘discovery’ to ‘syndicated Hollywood gossip columns and movie fan magazines’ (Harris 1991, p. 41). By the 1950s magazines such as Confidential (1952–1978) had shifted the focus from star promotion to star denigration. Confidential focused on celebrity gossip, and ‘recycled old stories or created “composite” facts as the basis of new ones’ (Desjardins 2001, p. 210), embellishing in order to heighten the scandalous event. This development, along with the rise of the ‘red top press’ in the UK, is significant as it shows that celebrity ‘privilege is attackable’ (Johansson 2006, p. 354) and ‘celebrity-bashing … provides a momentary experience of power and control to readers’ (355) of these tabloids.

In contemporary media culture, gossip is transmitted through publications such as People (1974-) and US Weekly (1977-), online sites such as TMZ (2005-), social media, and paparazzi photography, the latter being a ‘visual form of gossip⁵’ (Squiers 1999, p. 286). At one time, the magazine Heat (1999-), which relies on paparazzi images, was termed ‘the bible of contemporary celebrity culture’ by Casper Llewellyn-Smith (2002, p. 114), and other popular gossip publications such as In Touch (2002-), Hello! (1988-), and Okay! (1997-) can be included in this assessment. While that designation is no longer apt in the contemporary period, the circulation of Heat and its contemporaries having shrunk, the form of gossip they popularised, one focused on celebrity scandal and schadenfreude delivered in a cruel, often mocking way, endures on social media and other online spaces. One such example is Blind Gossip, a popular ‘blind items’ site where anonymous members of the public post stories, sightings, and (possibly apocryphal) gossip about celebrities with the names and specifics removed, although the identity of the celebrity is heavily alluded to. Celebrity gossip, and the publications that profit from it, ‘bypasses questions of merit through its emphasis on the present’ (Gamson 1994, p. 175); it does not matter for the publication or its reader ‘how celebrities got there, or even how they manage to stay there, but how they behave once they’re there’ (175). If they are considered to have behaved poorly, publications and readers pivot to gossip as disapprobation, a key part of celebrity schadenfreude. I argue that celebrity food challenge media, particularly ‘Spill Your Guts’ is part of this gossip media ecosystem, the verb ‘to spill’ having long held associations with gossip and gossip media.

‘That’s what you do to haters, you laugh at them:’ ‘mean tweets’ and neutralisation

A key instance of the co-option of celebrity-schadenfreude by American media emerges in 2012, when late night comedy chat show Jimmy Kimmel Live! (2003-) debuted a segment called ‘Celebrities Read Mean Tweets’ in which, much as the name suggests, various celebrities read out a cruel tweet directed at them by a member of the public, while REM’s ‘Everybody Hurts’ plays in the background; the choice of lachrymose music here meant to universalise celebrity suffering and cue empathy in a ‘tongue in cheek’ way. ‘Mean Tweets’ functions in a number of interesting ways. As Bridget Kies (2021) observes, ‘while on the surface interactions with the public … seem to characterize segments like “Celebrities Read Mean Tweets,” it is actually the interactions among celebrities, laughing at and with each other, that offer the reassurance of more traditional forms of entertainment’ (2) and by extension, the reassurance of the traditional preserve of celebrity.

Alongside this reassurance ‘Mean Tweets’ provides a way to neutralise attempts to level celebrities ‘through personal humiliation’ (Littler and Cross 2010, p. 400), as the insults and criticisms pulled from Twitter are laughed at, reacted to, and otherwise controlled by the celebrity who is the target of ire. Friedrich Nietzsche (Nietzsche, 1998) argues that schadenfreude is the revenge of the impotent, but with ‘Mean Tweets’ the impotent figure, in this case the semi-anonymous tweeter, is stripped of agency and their revenge is denied by the often good-natured or comedic reaction of the target celebrity. Gesturing towards critique and schadenfreude the celebrity will often dismiss the tweet with a witty remark, neutralise it through good-humoured laughter, or pretend to be upset in a deliberately unconvincing way. Kies notes, when analysing Kate Hudson’s appearance on the segment, ‘cyberbullying by an obscure anti-fan is rendered impotent next to the magnitude of Hudson’s celebrity and good-natured ability to laugh at criticism’ (6). ‘Mean Tweets’ attempts to place the audience in accord with the celebrity, asking them to laugh with the celebrity at the anonymous tweeter as ‘the fun is in watching [the celebrity] perform the role of good sport’ (6). However, in many cases, the first peal of studio audience laughter comes at the tweet itself, before the celebrity has had a chance to neutralise it, signalling what I consider the sadistic undercurrent of celebrity–audience interaction in these segments. In the seventh instalment uploaded on May 22^nd, 2014, a number of celebrities simply read the tweets and offer no rebuttal or active attempt at neutralisation. During these moments the audience laughs once, solely at the tweet and the effect it seems to have on the celebrity. Only a handful of celebrities either retort, as Sophia Vergara does, or laugh at the tweet, like Gary Oldman (Figure 1). In these particular cases, the first peal of laughter is at the celebrity, and the succeeding, often louder burst of laughter is with the celebrity who successfully defuses the insult/criticism/attack. This showcases an ability to neutralise, and the audience’s willingness to be neutralised, or placed in accord with the celebrity against the detractor. This willingness stems from the segment building an identification with the celebrity over the tweeter. Of course, it is significantly easier for the audience to identify with the visible, named celebrity than the semi-anonymous tweeter who is represented only by their username. The direct-to-camera address, the physical phone that the celebrity reads from, and the good-natured laughter all cue audience identification, calling to mind the idea that stars are, in fact, ‘just like us’. As one YouTube commentator notes, ‘The best reaction was Gary Oldman bursting into laughter. Now that’s what you do to haters, you laugh at them.’

Figure 1. Gary Oldman’s willingness to laugh at the tweet, and by extension both himself and the tweeter, neutralises the audience’s own laughter, shifting it from laughing at to laughing with.

The term ‘hater’ is a useful one to dwell on for a moment. ‘Hating’ has become clearly designated as a devalued form of public affect with ‘haters’ often characterised as jealous, irrelevant people. Despite this popular characterisation, the term has a far broader applicability and is often used to police negativity⁶ or legitimate critique.

Emma A. Jane (2014) provides us with the useful term ‘e-bile’ to describe the ‘the recreational nastiness that ha[s] come to constitute a dominant tenor of Internet discourse’ (532). Although the examples Jane analyses are much more violent and misogynistic than the pre-screened content on ‘Mean Tweets’ the concept of recreational nastiness is useful as it is one of the way celebrities can associate their critics with senseless or cruel negativity and dismiss their ‘haters’ as members of this particularly toxic, online phenomenon. If hatred, as an emotion, can be ridiculed in such a way as to neutralise it, the reasons for said emotion, legitimate or not, are also occluded. As Sara Ahmed (2004) states, ‘emotions are bound up with the securing of the social hierarchy’ (4); if the hatred of celebrity is a devalued form of emotional expression, then by extension celebrity solidifies itself as dominant.

A more recent ‘Mean Tweets’ video, the twelfth in the series released on the 26^th of September 2019, has almost every celebrity offer some form of retort, put down, jovial acquiescence or performance of sadness in response to the mean tweet. This video shows a notable increase not only in celebrity participation in these types of segments (‘Mean Tweets’ seven features less recognisable celebrities, while twelve is composed exclusively of ‘A-list’ stars) but also an awareness of the power of schadenfreude. The celebrities are aware that by subjecting themselves to (light) humiliation, the segment will provide them with an opportunity to disperse, nullify, or return that humiliation onto the tweeter/hater/critic. After this deflection or neutralisation, the sadistic/schadenfreude impulse of the viewer is redirected at the tweeter. However, the performatively masochistic impulse that exists in contemporary celebrity schadenfreude is not yet overt, as in ‘Mean Tweets’ the humiliation of the celebrity is light and convivial. Schadenfreude emerges more forcefully in ‘Spill Your Guts’ and Hot Ones with the inclusion of a food-based challenge and the potential for physical humiliation.

Late-night television and segmented schadenfreude

James Corden’s tenure as a late-night host provides a new version of celebrity schadenfreude-based programming. Ostensibly a standard late-night talk show that revolves around celebrity interviews and musical guests, The Late Late Show also features a number of segments in a similar vein to ‘Mean Tweets’, the most notable of which are ‘Carpool Karaoke’ and my focus here, ‘Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts’. ‘Carpool Karaoke’ is very much a ‘spotlight for Corden’ (McNutt 2017, p. 570) with musical guests like Adele and One Direction often ‘surprised or impressed by Corden’s musical prowess’ (581) and serves as a ‘legitimation of Corden’s capacity as both a host and a singer’ (582). ‘Spill Your Guts’ instead positions the celebrity guest not as an interviewee and Corden as an interviewer, but situates both as the type of contestant in a humiliating game. The premise of ‘Spill Your Guts’ is simple; there are a number of ostensibly disgusting, but not dangerous, foodstuffs placed on a table.⁷ Both Corden and his guests take turns picking food for each other and then asking them a question. The person asked can either answer the question or eat the food item chosen for them. Late night has always been ‘a highly segmented programming form’ (Jones 2009, p. 18) and its focus on predictability makes it perfect for the ‘increasingly nonlinear, digital television environment’ (McNutt, 571). With the advent of YouTube, the site quickly became ‘an outlet for established media to reach out to the elusive but much-desired youth audience’ (Burgess and Green 2018, p. 6), meaning that a number of traditionally interview-based late night talk shows now build segments around viral video appeal, such as short, self-contained ‘bits’, sketches or games that can be uploaded outside of the linear and live context of the talk show (McNutt 2017). Segments such as ‘Carpool Karaoke’ offer celebrities an opportunity to appear in a more intimate setting, in many ways ‘co-opting YouTube’s emphasis on authenticity’ (McNutt 2017, p. 582) through the use of dash-cam footage and the segment’s conceit of carpooling to work. The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon (2014-) also features numerous games and segments, from the now spun-off popular hit ‘Lip Sync Battle’ to ‘Classroom Instruments’, which appears to directly compete with ‘Carpool Karaoke’ in its focus on allowing musical guests to showcase authentic talent while borrowing from the filming conventions of YouTube performance videos. Fallon even begins the segment by seeming to turn the camera on beforehand, a by now familiar indicator of homemade digital content that positions him as ‘an active participant … the maestro of the particular symphonic, collaborative segment’ (570).

‘Spill Your Guts’ is also heavily geared towards this segmented, stand-alone style of digital content. These segments of the show have garnered more engagement on online platforms than within the show itself. In the 2020–21 season The Late Late Show averaged 971,000 total viewers (White 2021), whereas its YouTube channel has 26.6 million subscribers, with the most watched video, a ‘Carpool Karaoke’ featuring Adele, currently sitting at over 250 million views. As such, talk shows like The Late Late Show have come to rely on online media platforms for a majority of their engagement and tailor their content to appeal to online audiences. Accordingly, celebrity guests who would have once participated in an interview are now often expected to participate in some form of game or segment constructed for consumption outside the confines of the live, linear talk show format. ‘Spill Your Guts’ is one such segment but stands in contrast to the safeness of ‘Mean Tweets’, or the authentic and often twee nature of ‘Carpool Karaoke’ and ‘Classroom Instruments’. This is due to both its emphasis on schadenfreude and its audience involvement. It is the only one of the four popular segments to put the celebrity in direct contact with the public to face disapprobation in person.

‘Spill Your Guts’ pulls from the long British tradition of food challenge media, most particularly, I’m a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here (2005 -) with its ‘Bushtucker Trials’ often involving the consumption of a disgusting substance such as deer blood, cockroaches or (infamously) a live spider. Where ‘Spill Your Guts’ and I’m a Celeb differ are in the calibre of celebrity involved and in the posing of a potentially humiliating question. This ‘spilling’ of one’s guts, as I note above, is why the segment can be considered a part of gossip media; the possibility of learning compromising information about a celebrity being a key factor in gossip’s appeal. That the celebrities of I’m a Celeb are more often than not categorised derogatorily as ‘D-List’ or ‘Z-List’ means that they often have schadenfreude ‘built-in [to their star persona] through media commentary’ (Littler and Cross 2010, p. 411). The show encourages ‘ironic laughter over the “washed-up” nature of the former stars and D-list celebrities who are subjected to various degrees of debasement (whether being made to act as “servants” for other contestants or eating bugs)’ (411) and as such there is both a high degree of active audience sadism and a performative celebrity masochism present in the performance and viewing of I’m a Celeb.⁸ Littler and Cross argue that ‘watching and laughing [as] celebrities “debase” themselves […] serves to pump up their celebrity profile and invent it anew’ (411). Building on this, the more recent trend of ‘A-List’ celebrities taking part in humiliating segments on late-night television, outside the implicit notion of performance imbued in all talk shows, serves to neutralise the audience’s sadism; both giving it what it wants and denying any real consequences to the celebrity.

Taking as a case study the most viewed ‘Spill Your Guts’ segments on The Late Late Show’s YouTube channel, a trend quickly becomes clear. The desire, which Litter and Cross observe, to laugh at those celebrities who are ‘famous for being famous’ and have ‘got above their station’ (406, 405) is evident in three of the top five most viewed segments featuring members of the Kardashian family.⁹ Kim Kardashian’s appearance, as of writing, has over 60 million views, her half-sister, Kendall Jenner, fills the other two spots, once with guest host Harry Styles at over 65 million views and the other with James Corden at over 55 million views. The popularity of Kim Kardashian’s episode shows the broad appeal of what is at its core a sadistic impulse to see someone who in many ways typifies the celebrity who is famous for being famous as well as personifying a hyper-wealthy, hyper-commodified version of celebrity detached from the idea of innate talent and meritocratic worth integral to the old star system. I will look at this segment, first broadcast on the 15^th of November 2017 with the clip being uploaded the following day, first considering the reactions of the audience, both the one in the studio who acts as the home viewer’s sadist-surrogate and the online viewer who leaves comments below the video, as well as analysing in depth what I consider the masochistic performativity of Kardashian and Corden themselves. I aim to show the political neutralisation and commodification of celebrity schadenfreude by ‘Spill Your Guts’ and more generally the commodification of audience sadism and the benefits of a performative celebrity masochism.

‘Spill your guts or fill your guts:’ an outlet for audience sadism

The introduction to the clip is typical of such late-night segments, the rules are explained, and a theme is played by the house band. But in the case of ‘Spill Your Guts’, the food items must also be introduced. As Corden rotates the table, naming each item, the audience dutifully responds with gleeful cries of disgust (particularly when Corden reaches the ever-present bull’s penis). The audience understands implicitly, even if not actively engaging in sadistic pleasure from the impending segment, that there is no outcome of the segment in which the audience’s sadistic impulse to see the celebrity humiliated will go unfulfilled. Kardashian will either eat a disgusting food or answer an embarrassing question. As such, when she is asked to rank her sisters from best to worst dressed or drink bird saliva, the audience derives pleasure from her conundrum, but also from either outcome. This is of particular interest as when she answers the question, the audience cheers and laughs at those sisters she ranks lower, rather than at her. A form of sadism is still in play here, a schadenfreude in which the audience sees a celebrity insult other celebrities and derive pleasure from knowing that Kardashian’s answers may have angered her sisters, resulting in conflict after the segment aired. There is a further perhaps implicit pleasure for those who are familiar with the Kardashian brand in that they may get to see this very conflict at a later point on Keeping Up with the Kardashians (2007–2021). The Kardashian family brand is built on superficial conflict but also a deep (commercial) loyalty and significant image control. Kim’s segment makes that very clear when, after potentially angering or embarrassing her sisters, she refuses to divulge any information about the rumoured pregnancies of two of them later in the same segment. The agency, which she has as an A-list, social media savvy, celebrity allows her to neither confirm nor deny her sisters’ pregnancy rumours, while the consumption of the sardine smoothie neutralises any potential audience ire.

‘Spill Your Guts’ differs further from other examples of celebrity food challenge media such as I’m a Celeb as Corden participates alongside the guest. Kardashian asks him ‘which guest has been the biggest jerk?’ The answer promises to reveal not only who, in the wide constellation of celebrity guests on The Late Late Show has been the rudest, information to which the public is usually only privy through tabloid speculation, but also who Corden would choose to name, the sadism here being derived not only from knowing a celebrity is thought of by their peers as a ‘jerk’ but also the professional conundrum Corden must face. Audience shouts of ‘say it’ betray a desire to know and a desire for Corden to jeopardise his professional security. It is worth questioning why the desire for an answer from Corden is particularly strong here, when previous moments in the show indicate that either outcome is enjoyed by the audience. I argue that to know, for certain, that a peer of a certain celebrity thinks of them as a ‘jerk’, provides the audience with a legitimisation of the hatred that fuels audience sadism. As ‘Spill Your Guts’ is an exercise that is neutralising said audience sadism, Corden does not name the celebrity, but tantalises the audience, stating ‘I know exactly who it is’ before eating a water scorpion. It is the consumption of the insect that neutralises the potentially negative audience reaction to the denial of a reveal. At no point during the segment is the sadistic impulse of the audience ever in danger of bubbling over into voiced displeasure; the disappointment of not revealing the celebrity’s name may engender feelings of resentment, but Corden, the potential object of ire, demeans himself by consuming an insect. It is this guarantee of either a tactical revelation of information or a strategic consumption of an unappealing foodstuff that makes ‘Spill Your Guts’ a neutralising force.

There is a moment of audience and host synergy later in the segment, as Corden and the audience unite in a sadistic impulse against a non-present celebrity, Kylie Jenner, one of Kim Kardashian’s younger sisters. Kylie had been booked to appear on the show previously but cancelled at the last minute. Corden had asked another Kardashian sister, Kendall Jenner, a probing question about her cancellation within the same segment in a different episode, but she had refused to answer. The familial omerta of the Kardashian clan usually occludes the public from any private knowledge ahead of announcement on social media or on their television shows, but here the same omerta allows the public to unite with Corden in a moment of shared sadism. Kim asks Corden who his least favourite Kardashian is and with somewhat uncharacteristic vigour, what should be an embarrassing, or rude question to answer in the presence of one of the said Kardashians become acceptable when tinged with humour. ‘I know, easy, Kylie, she pulled out of the show … fuck her she’s the worst’. The audience’s rapturous cheers and applause after this convey a joy in one celebrity insulting another for their conduct. In this moment, and moments like it replete across the segment, Corden acts as both object of our ire and figure of identification. Despite being the host, and a celebrity himself, he aligns himself with the audience, and in a way, cements his ordinariness in his disdain for Jenner’s cancellation. As Gies (2011) notes, ‘ordinariness is foundational of contemporary celebrity status and its perceived democratic character,¹⁰’ (351), and Corden’s willingness to speak candidly situates him as a sort of ‘ordinary bloke’ who has no time for the self-importance of the celebrity elite. This ordinariness is an established part of Corden’s star persona with the talk show host having risen to fame in Britain for writing and co-staring in Gavin & Stacy (2007–2019) in which he plays a well-meaning if naïve working-class man from Essex, before going on to host A League of Their Own (2010–) a British comedy panel show that focuses on sport and utilises a ‘laddish tone’ (Gill 2003, p. 44). Corden’s relationship to his body and his weight is another aspect of this perceived ordinariness. A key early role of his was Fat Friends (2000–2005) in which a group of people in Leeds become friends at a slimming class and are resistant to the dieting and exercise prescribed to them. More recently Corden opened a September 2019 episode of The Late Late Show by lambasting Bill Maher who the previous week had argued in favour of fat shaming as a way to curb obesity. In his retort, Corden speaks openly about his struggle with his weight, addresses the role poverty plays in obesity, and intersperses genuine critiques of a culture, which despises fat people with self-deprecating humour about his own weight. These elements of ordinary ‘relatability’, of course, work to obfuscate Corden’s own wealth alongside the fact that he is friendly enough with the Kardashian clan, by warrant of his own celebrity status, to insult them.

‘I feel like she’s actually a nice human being:’ YouTube comments as validation

Having considered the desires of the in-studio audience of this particular ‘Spill Your Guts’ episode, it is fruitful to turn to the YouTube commenter as an example of an online, atomised viewership. Taking a sample of both YouTube’s own ‘top comments’ system which, while YouTube itself has been vague about the algorithm, ostensibly pushes comments to the top based not only upon number of upvotes, but also downvotes, number of replies, and the number of previous comments made by the author, as well as the more straightforward ‘most upvoted’ comments on the segment, two notable patterns emerge. One cites respect for Kim Kardashian for refusing to reveal her sisters’ pregnancies, invoking the value of familial bonds and authenticity, while the other raises the same notions of family and authenticity but cites Kim’s willingness to criticise her sisters. What is clear from this is the considerable power Kardashian has over her, and her family’s, image. Looking at two ‘top comments’, one from a viewer called ‘the brown life’ notes, ‘It’s nice how Kim isn’t scared to talk about her personal life and even if she says something mean it feel [sic] more in a family way’. An example being the moment in which Kim Kardashian is asked to disclose something her husband, Kanye West, does which she wishes he would stop. The question about West potentially provides the audience with the pleasure of activating the by now classic celebrity-marriage-in-decline narrative (this segment was filmed far in advance of the couple’s divorce), but Kim Kardashian instead uses it to deliver an authentic image of both her and her husband as regular parents, noting that Kanye works so hard that he often falls asleep in awkward places, like parent teacher meetings or at dinners. She routinely criticises her sisters and mother but, as the commentator notes, ‘in a family way’, a dysfunctional style of relatable familial strife that is resolved by the end of the episode when ‘everyone realises that family is paramount’ (McClain 2013, p. 138). This style is by now recognisable from the numerous seasons of Keeping up with the Kardashians. Another ‘top commenter’ with the username Aashna notes of Kim Kardashian, ‘I feel like she’s actually a nice human being.’ Seemingly warm feelings towards the reality star are allowed to flow after she has been lightly humiliated, showcasing the celebrity ability to collect and repurpose embarrassment towards positive ends. These two comments fall into the ‘top comment’ bracket in that, despite lower numbers of upvotes, they are (at the time of writing) two of the first comments below the video. We can gain further insight into what the online audience’s reactions through engagement with the most ‘upvoted’ comments. One of these comments, by user ‘Riley M’, sits at over 7000 upvotes and notes that ‘Kim is so brutally honest it’s great!’ The use of ‘brutal’ here invoking a cherished ‘realness’ or authenticity that has become central to contemporary celebrity and it’s need to offer up a ‘real self behind the manufactured celebrity image’ (Gamson 2011, p. 1063). Another by user ‘Edward David’ with over 4000 upvotes states that ‘The fact that James had rather eat a scorpion than tell his worst guest is amazing.’ Clearly being willing to consume the bug rather than divulge potentially humiliating information about another celebrity not only prevents audience backlash, as I state above, but also allows for the expression of a type of audience admiration towards Corden.

Lieve Gies notes that ‘celebrities have to renew their popularity on an almost daily basis. Public acknowledgment of their worth is not static’ (353), and ‘Spill Your Guts’ provides a space in which that renewal is coupled with a momentary levelling. As Sarah Cefai (2020) states ‘reputation is central to the cultural currency of networked and social media exchange’ (1288) and the Kardashians understand that it is not only positive reputations that are central to cultural currency. In many ways, the performative conflict of their television show, although it can be embarrassing in the short term, pays dividends in regard to visibility and audience empathy. Kardashian’s appearance on ‘Spill Your Guts’ works in a similar way.

Celetoids and performative masochism as import

As I have outlined above, the impulse to watch celebrities suffer humiliation is matched in some arenas by an intensified performative celebrity masochism in which celebrities will allow humiliation and punishment in order to be perceived as authentic or to gratify a new set of expectations for relatability. Prior to the advent of segments like ‘Spill Your Guts’ this impulse was most often seen in those derisively labelled ‘Z-List’ celebrities seeking a return to fame and success. Chris Rojek (2001) coins the term ‘celetoid’ for ‘any form of compressed, concentrated, attributed celebrity’ (20) and it is shows like I’m a Celeb and Celebrity Big Brother which allow for celetoids to attempt to extend their compressed or expired celebrity through a show in which celebrity-status is re-attributed to those participating. Through appearing in these shows the public become reacquainted with them, boosting the celebrity’s profile, with the potential benefit of lucrative television appearances and book deals if they win, are a fan favourite, or attain controversial recognition. Fuelled by British tabloid journalism, the celebrities on these shows subject themselves to a heightened humiliation that some can redeploy as relevancy. As has become increasingly clear, prior to ‘Spill Your Guts’ televised celebrity humiliation was particularly UK-focused. The examples I note above are both British in origin, and in many ways ‘Spill Your Guts’ can be seen as a British import along with Corden. It is worth noting here that two different American television networks have tried to import I’m a Celeb to the United States, ABC in 2003 and NBC in 2009. Both attempts were failures, neither lasting more than a year. In a Guardian article, written as the second attempt to launch a US I’m a Celeb was airing, Anna Pickard (2009) wonders if ‘perhaps … people in Britain have more of an appetite for watching celebrities being punished’. Regardless of whether the national character of either nation is more prone to enjoying celebrity punishment, it does seem to have taken until Corden debuted in America for this mode of entertainment, albeit in a less extreme form, to find purchase. His own willing participation may contribute to its success, subjecting himself to the same torture he inflicts in a way other hosts on the late-night circuit do not. The weekly YouTube interview show Hot Ones also has the host subject himself to torture alongside the celebrity guest but comprises a new format of celebrity food challenge media, one which already has authenticity built in by warrant of its position as popular online show and revolves around a pain-based humiliation with no way to ‘opt-out’ in favour of a question rather than one that stems primarily from disgust or confession.

Hot ones, dual pleasure, and performing sadism and masochism

If ‘Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts’ is a televised segment of a syndicated talk show that finds its largest audience re-ritualised and re-segmented online, then the online interview series Hot Ones exists as its own short, gimmick-interview format constructed specifically for online consumption, pulling from the tradition of the late-night interview show. Hot Ones airs on the First We Feast YouTube channel and has grown significantly since its inception. First We Feast creates trendy, often street culture adjacent, food media. It is owned by Complex Media, an internet and print company founded by streetwear designer Mark Ecko. This association inherently marks it as closer to signifiers of the authentic and cool.¹¹ The show’s focus on spicy food, with celebrities eating 10 increasingly spicy chicken wings across the interview, is what allows the host to refer to them as ‘experiential celebrity interviews’. Each Hot Ones guest ‘performs his or her spicy dexterity against the identity of show host Sean Evans, whose hot sauce mastery – and white, heterosexual, cisgendered, everyman brand of masculinity – anchor the series’ (Contois 2018, p. 771). Hot Ones mimics the interviewer involvement that has become a staple of many late-night segments but in this case the host has, over the course of numerous interviews, trained his palette so that he barely reacts to even the hottest wings. This sets up a dichotomy between the interviewer and guest because, regardless of Evans’ reassertions that ‘I’m doing them right along with you’ very rarely does he seem to be in as much discomfort or pain as his guests.¹² Despite this, Evans essentially operates as a performative masochist. In fact, numerous guests have implied this when they realise how frequently he subjects himself to the exceptionally spicy hot sauce.

Focusing on the most-viewed episodes, a curious aberration emerges. While four of the five highest viewed interviews have on average 30 to 45 million views, the Hot Ones which features celebrity chef Gordon Ramsay, doubles that figure with a view count of over 100 million. I argue that the significant popularity of this episode hinges on two intersecting elements. An established reality star, Ramsay is well known for his ‘distinctively aggressive and confrontational performance style’ (Boyle and Kelly 2010, p. 336) when critiquing restaurants, their food and their owners. As a Michelin star chef his expertise is well established as is his penchant for swearing and yelling. Thus, Ramsay’s Hot Ones appearance offers a dual pleasure for an audience’s sadistic impulse,¹³ in that the viewer desires Ramsay to critique the wings, the hot sauces, and the show’s format in a humorous foul-mouthed way, and expects Ramsay himself to suffer pain from the hot sauces. Pain-based humiliation differs from the previously discussed disgust-based humiliation. To quote Julia Kristeva (1982), ‘food loathing is perhaps the most elementary and most archaic form of abjection’ (2). Here she is considering disgusting food, the ‘skin on the surface of the milk’ (2) which, when consumed, produces a ‘gagging sensation and, still father down, spasms in the stomach’ (3). It is here that the difference between disgust and pain emerges. Although their fundamental similarity is discomfort, it is the disgusting food that is truly abject. Spice, for all the pain it may cause, is not truly unfamiliar. It does not taste wrong. As well as this, pain cannot be shared in the same way disgust can. While the audience of ‘Spill Your Guts’ are likely to feel some sort of disgust alongside the celebrity, the audience of Hot Ones does not feel any pain. As such, it is Hot Ones’ position as an endurance challenge that can be failed that allows for audience identification and neutralisation rather than just the willingness to consume a disgusting food or spill a secret. Only those who succeed in the wing gauntlet receive positive audience feeling. If they fail, they are ridiculed in the comments, as DJ Khaled is for failing on the third wing.

The title of the episode, ‘Gordan Ramsay Savagely Critiques Spicy Wings’ communicates the show’s understanding of Ramsay’s appeal. Ramsay’s star persona, one which I argue revolves around a performative sadism, has been constructed across a number of television shows and media appearances. In a show like Kitchen Nightmares (2007–2014) he fulfils the role of sadist-surrogate for the audience. The yelling, belittling, and ridiculing all work to humiliate often delusional owners of terrible restaurants and the audience viewing this identifies with, and takes pleasure in, Ramsay’s performative sadism. On Hot Ones this performance is punctured as the wings become hotter and Ramsay becomes visibly uncomfortable

Enjoying spiciness, like many things which require fortitude or endurance is associated with masculinity. As Nadia K. Byrnes and John E. Hayes (Byrnes and Hayes 2015) state, ‘the cultural association of consuming spicy foods with strength and machismo has created a learned social reward for men’ (18), and the ability to finish the Hot Ones challenge is important in terms of masculinity which is often linked to ‘strength and daring’ (12–13). As Emily J. H. Contois notes, ‘weakness in the face of fiery sensation can appear as failure’ with those who have failed the challenge earning a spot in the ‘Hall of Shame’ (Contois 2018, p. 771). As such, Ramsay is not subjecting himself to pain primarily to assuage audience negativity or sadism, he is instead attempting a challenge that will bolster positive audience feeling and secure his masculinity. There is another telling moment where Ramsay gets to retort to criticisms of his restaurant and cuisine, read out loud by Evans. Throughout the show, the balance of power, or perhaps the balance between performative sadism and performative masochism, vacillates between the two. They are not competing necessarily but in moments like this where Evans reads out bad reviews, he is imploring the audience, and himself, to find pleasure in Ramsay’s previous misfortune, just as when Ramsay attacks the quality of the sauce or wings, he invites the audience to identify with his performative sadism at the expense of the show.

As the challenge continues Ramsay begins to display considerable discomfort, uttering a near constant string of expletives as he coughs and hacks from the hot sauce. A Hot Ones trademark during these moments is to zoom in on contorted faces, echo their wheezes, and play a siren sound meant to convey pain and discomfort whenever the celebrity coughs, or splutters or in other ways indicates that the sauce is causing them pain (Figure 2). This focus on discomfort is a vital aspect of the show’s understanding of celebrity schadenfreude and its recuperative powers.

Figure 2. A sponsored ‘Crash and Burn’ moment appears on the screen as Ramsay contorts his face in pain across from an unfazed Evans.

Ramsay opens the episode authoritatively and situates his masculinity in relation to his reputation as expert and performative sadist, but by the middle of the interview that authority and masculinity has been ceded to Evans’ ‘hot sauce mastery … and everyman brand of masculinity’ (771). A commentor with the username ‘Nay I’fay’ notes that Sean is ‘stellar’, and she loves ‘how he talks so calmly while his guest (sic) are suffering.’

At the end of the 10-wing challenge, provided the guest gets there, both host and guest are implored to pour an additional quantity of the hottest sauce onto the last wing. Prefaced with ‘it’s tradition around here to put a little extra on the last wing but you don’t have to if you don’t want to’, in this section the celebrity is given the option to spare themselves extra pain and discomfort. Despite this, almost every guest opts in. Some note the slightly coercive tone (the invocation of tradition implying that choosing not to participate would be the wrong choice) as a reason for doing so, but for many it can be seen as in-line with the performative masochism I have sketched above. As such, if the initial desire to see a celebrity in pain from hot sauce is sadism or schadenfreude, then the masochistic performativity of commitment that many celebrities show both fulfils and diffuses that sadism with commentor ‘EK’ noting that Ramsay is a ‘class act even while being on fire!’ referring to him as a ‘proper bloke’. It is worth drawing attention to one particularly useful comment made under the Gordon Ramsay episode. The commentor ‘Ashley Vasquez’ states ‘Yasss! Y’all brought Gordon to his knees lol. I absolutely love Gordon’s hard ass & this was such a delight to watch him come down to earth with the rest of us earthlings lol … you stuck it out like a champ (sic).’ This commentor’s delight in watching Ramsay suffers followed by a statement of approval conforms to the theory of celebrity food challenge media I have outlined above.

In conclusion, ‘Spill Your Guts’ and Hot Ones are variations on a mode that seeks to provide an outlet for audience sadism that does not fundamentally challenge social hierarchy. Both shows are constructed through light, consensual pain, humiliation, or embarrassment performed in such a way as to allow for a controlled ‘levelling through humiliation’ (Littler and Cross) which, in turn, neutralises the desire for a toppling of celebrity or hierarchy. ‘Spill Your Guts’ in many ways functions as a synthesis between the British tabloid influenced celebrity schadenfreude programming of shows like I’m a Celeb and American late-night schadenfreude segments such as ‘Mean Tweets’. The willingness to subject the celebrity (and the celebrity’s willingness to subject themselves) to an ostensibly negative experience in order to invoke positive audience feeling invokes both styles. In I’m a Celeb the celebrity faces humiliation primarily in exchange for points, meals, and audience votes. In ‘Spill Your Guts’ they face it to diffuse the potential levelling impulse. In exchange for light humiliation, or temporary levelling, the celebrity retains the power, privilege, and income afforded to them by their celebrity status. Hot Ones provides a similar temporary levelling-moment but in a more authentic and masculine register. The success of the celebrities at the ‘wing-gauntlet’ is as key to generating positive audience feeling as the pained coughing, spluttering, and swearing. Only those who finish the gauntlet are afforded positive audience feeling and the strengthening of their celebrity. Those who fail (Ricky Gervais, Coolio, Shaq, among others) are ridiculed. Only by facing enough pain or enough discomfort may the levelling-impulse of the audience, the desire for celebrity denigration, be satisfied and the hierarchy of celebrity be temporarily preserved.

Filmography

A League of Their Own, 2010-ongoing. CPL Productions and SKY.

Celebrity Big Brother, 2001–2018. Bazal, Endemol UK Productions, Remarkable Television and Initial.

Celebrities Read Mean Tweets #7, 2014. YouTube. Uploaded by Jimmy Kimmel Live! May 22^nd [online]. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=imW392e6XR0&ab_channel=JimmyKimmelLive.

Celebrities Read Mean Tweets #12, 2019. YouTube. Uploaded by Jimmy Kimmel Live! September 26 [online]. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FLTOiQ8gXp4&ab_channel=JimmyKimmelLive.

Fat Friends, 2000–2005. Rollem Productions and ITV.

Gavin & Stacy, 2007–2019. Baby Cow Productions and BBC.

Gordon Ramsay Savagely Critiques Hot Wings | Hot Ones, 2019. YouTube. Uploaded by First We Feast 24^th January [online]. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U9DyHthJ6LA&t=1084s&ab_channel=FirstWeFeast.

I’m a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here, 2002-ongoing. Granada and LWT.

James Corden Responds to Bill Maher’s Fat Shaming Take, 2019. YouTube, uploaded by The Late Late Show with James Corden, 13th September [online]. www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ax1U04c4gaw&ab_channel=TheLateLateShowwithJamesCorden.

Jimmy Kimmel Live! 2003-ongoing. ABC.

Keeping Up with the Kardashians, 2007–2021. Ryan Seacrest Productions, Bunim/Murray Productions, NBC.

Kitchen Nightmares, 2007–2014. ITV Studios America and Fox.

Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts w/Kim Kardashian, 2017. YouTube, uploaded by The Late Late Show with James Corden, 16^th November [online]. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p8XP7A7kvzM&t=86s&ab_channel=TheLateLateShowwithJamesCorden.

Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts w/Kendall Jenner, 2016. YouTube, uploaded by The Late Late Show with James Corden, 17^th November [online]. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DQoGySDhdcE&ab_channel=TheLateLateShowwithJamesCorden.

The Late Late Show With James Corden, 2015-ongoing. Fulwell73 and CBS Studios.

The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon, 2014-ongoing. Broadway Video and Universal Television, NBC.

Comments

Aashna, 2017. Comment on ‘Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts w/Kim Kardashian.’ YouTube, uploaded by The Late Late Show with James Corden, 16^th November [online]. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p8XP7A7kvzM&t=86s&ab_channel=TheLateLateShowwithJamesCorden.

David, Edward, 2019. 2017. Comment on ‘Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts w/Kim Kardashian.’ YouTube, uploaded by The Late Late Show with James Corden, 16^th November [online]. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p8XP7A7kvzM&t=86s&ab_channel=TheLateLateShowwithJamesCorden

EK, 2019. Comment on ‘Gordon Ramsay Savagely Critiques Hot Wings | Hot Ones.’ YouTube. Uploaded by First We Feast, 24^th January [online]. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U9DyHthJ6LA&t=1084s&ab_channel=FirstWeFeast.

I’fay, Nay, 2019. Comment on ‘Gordon Ramsay Savagely Critiques Hot Wings | Hot Ones.’ YouTube. Uploaded by First We Feast, 24^th January [online]. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U9DyHthJ6LA&t=1084s&ab_channel=FirstWeFeast.

The brown life, 2017. Comment on ‘Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts w/Kim Kardashian.’ YouTube, uploaded by The Late Late Show with James Corden, 16^th November [online]. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p8XP7A7kvzM&t=86s&ab_channel=TheLateLateShowwithJamesCorden.

Riley M, 2019. 2017. Comment on ‘Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts w/Kim Kardashian.’ YouTube, uploaded by The Late Late Show with James Corden, 16^th November [online]. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p8XP7A7kvzM&t=86s&ab_channel=TheLateLateShowwithJamesCorden

Vasquez, Ashely, 2019. Comment on ‘Gordon Ramsay Savagely Critiques Hot Wings | Hot Ones.’ YouTube. Uploaded by First We Feast, 24^th January [online]. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U9DyHthJ6LA&t=1084s&ab_channel=FirstWeFeast.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Additional information

Notes on contributors

Odin O’Sullivan

Odin O’Sullivan is a second year PhD candidate in UCD. He is currently working on his doctoral thesis entitled ‘Blood, Sweat, Respect:’ A Genealogy of Reactionary Hardbody Cinema and has published work in Feminist Media Studies and the European Journal of Cultural Studies.

Notes

1. Celebrity schadenfreude differs from something like ‘ironic viewing’ which, often through the format of reality television, informs the audience that while ‘the people on the screen may be

rich, or spoilt, or beautiful … but you, oh superior viewer, get to judge and mock them, and thus are above them’ (Douglas 2013, p. 150). Celebrity schadenfreude revels in a celebrities levelling, while ironic viewing provides a sense of superiority even if the star in question is not being levelled/humiliated.

2. ‘Controlled’ is important here as it showcases how the humiliation experienced by A-list celebrities differs significantly from the humiliation experienced by the participants on television shows such as The Jeremy Kyle Show (2005–2019),Dr Phil (2002-), or Jerry Springer (1991–2018) who have limited control over their humiliation and the sadistic impulse of the audience. The ability to control said humiliation is directly tied to the agency granted by cultural capital, financial capital, and visibility.

3. Tabloid culture or tabloidization here ‘is devoted to the celebration or dissection of celebrity collapse’ (Littler and Cross 2010, p. 413) as well as ‘dominated by the actions of well-known people, politicians, public officials, sports men and women, celebrities, soon to be celebrities and wannabe celebrities’ (Turner 2004, 75).

4. I reference Spears here as the ‘unyielding harassment’ she faced at the hands of the tabloids and public for her ‘personal and professional setbacks’ (W. Fisher 2011, p. 305) was particularly focused and cruel. The recent ‘Free Britney’ movement has worked to find justice for Spears and revise her legacy from a feminist perspective.

5. It is worth noting that as digital camera and phone technology advanced so did paparazzi culture, with celebrities now subjected to ‘citizen paparazzi’ (McNamara 2011, p. 520) alongside professionals.

6. Mark Fisher (2018) succinctly illustrates how accusations of negativity can be weaponised. Writing about Celebrity Big Brother (2001–2018) contestants Farrah Abraham and Jenna Jameson he notes that despite being ‘relentlessly aggressive and insulting’ they would often attack other contestants for ‘their negativity’, placing their detractors within what has become an unacceptable affective register whilst ‘shoring up [their] own egos’ (259).

7. It is important to note that many of these foods are in fact important culinary touchstones in other cultures and Corden’s positioning of them as disgusting has drawn accusations of racism from many to whom they are not only normative but beloved. A change.org petition for Corden to stop referring to Asian dishes as disgusting generated enough backlash for Corden to publicly state that the show would no longer ‘involve or use any of those foods’ (Kiefer 2021). Whether this change will be implemented remains to be seen as the segment was most recently aired on the 26^th of March 2021, four months before Corden addressed the issue.

8. I’m a Celeb is part of a broader trend towards the rehabilitation of celebrities who have fallen out of the public eye. Shows like Dancing with the Stars (2005-),Strictly Come Dancing (2004-),Celebrity Big Brother, among others allow celebrities to be pulled out of their comfort zones for our entertainment and allow what were once perhaps ‘Z-list’ or even micro-celebrities (Marwick) to become household names.

9. The Kardashians occupy a very particular site in popular culture and trade just as much on discourses of adoration as dismissal. Kim Kardashian, having risen from the ranks of the ‘D-List’ through tabloid speculation and scandal is a useful figure for my purposes but is not a ‘typical’ celebrity.

10. There has been a ‘decisive turn towards the ordinary’ in celebrity culture during the 21^st century. This ordinariness encourages audiences to identify with celebrities and to see celebrity itself as attainable. See Joshua Gamson’s 2011 article ‘The Unwatched Life is Not Worth Living’ for a succinct analysis of this shift.

11. Cool here meaning a ‘rebellious attitude’ (Pountain and Robins 2000, p. 23) which is increasingly associated with ‘street styles, music, aesthetics and attitudes’ (Ilan 2015, p. 17) and can be a manifestation of ‘subcultural capital’ (Thornton 1995).

12. Evans himself was essentially unknown ahead of Hot Ones, having worked as a freelance journalist and interviewer for Complex. He seemingly became used to the hot sauces as time went on due to the weekly nature of the show, noting in an ‘Ask Me Anything’ thread on the r/AMA subreddit that his ‘biology has more or less adjusted’ over time.

13. Significant wealth disparity is also an integral part of celebrity schadenfreude and Ramsay’s net worth was estimated to be over $70 million by Forbes in 2020.