At the end of this month, Loose Women will bid farewell to a huge part of the show, a part that’s been woven into its DNA since its inception: the audience. Changes over at ITV, and TV generally, means the show will be decamping to a new space in the New Year. We don’t watch TV like we used to, so as a result, channels have had to adapt and change, while still producing high quality shows with impact.
It’s strange really, because not having an audience isn’t something I ever thought I’d miss. When I first appeared on the show as a guest host, it was in the middle of a Covid lockdown, when audiences weren’t allowed. There would be three of us behind the desk in the studio talking into the cameras, and one of the ladies on Zoom on the screen behind us. Behind those cameras, all we could see was a vast dark space. There was no audience, no live reactions, just silence. Having spent most of my life in TV news where we don’t have a live audience, that silence was comforting to me – it was all I knew.
But when TV companies started to tentatively take steps out of lockdown restrictions, we were told that the Loose Women audience would be returning. The other ladies were thrilled. I, on the other hand, had no idea if I’d be able to cope with a live audience. Suppose it turned out that I was completely rubbish and couldn’t handle it? What if the audience didn’t like me and just spent the entire show staring blankly at this charlatan who had dared to step onto their favourite show? There aren’t many things that can unnerve me, but my overthinking brain began going through all the things I could mess up.
Before we start the show at 12.30pm, we are all introduced into the studio by our warm-up man, the comedian Lee Peart, as the audience clap and holler. When I walked in to host a show with a live studio audience for the first time, the feeling was euphoric. I immediately understood everything that Nadia Sawalha had been trying to explain to me for months: there is something precious and beautiful in the unpredictability of live TV with an audience. It turns a dark, quiet corner of a room into an explosion of energy, laughter, connection and warmth that bounces onto the panel of hosts.
In the 1990s, getting yourself in a live studio audience as a kid was one of the most exciting things EVER. I still remember being in the audience of Motormouth, ITV’s Saturday morning kids’ show. I was buzzing so much the night before I couldn’t sleep, and I was so excited during the day itself that I struggled to sleep that night too.
I remember my friend Symone ending up on BBC’s Live & Kicking a few years later to meet East 17 (she was their biggest fan and won a poem competition based on their lyrics). We all screamed when she told us that not only was she going to be in the audience of Live & Kicking (then the pinnacle of Saturday morning telly, until SMTV Live took its crown), but that she would also be meeting East 17. If we were the sort of girls who fainted, we would have. Back then, being on live TV just seemed bonkers and so much fun – so if you could be a part of that, even for a few minutes, it meant so much.
The unpredictability of TV with a live studio audience happens so infrequently these days it’s easy to forget that telly wasn’t always perfectly edited and pre-recorded. There is something special about the mayhem of filming live – The Word and The Big Breakfast are perfect examples. Though an Instagram or TikTok live can also come with its own level of edge of your seat moments, there is a comfort and wonder to be had from inviting a bunch of strangers into what would otherwise be an intimate and nerve-wracking moment live on TV.
Be it a guest (or panellist!) accidentally swearing, and the audience gasping in shock – then rolling around laughing. Or Lee Peart having to hide audience members on the back row because they’ve bunked off work and don’t want to be spotted on camera. There are more touching moments too, such as the audience crying with us, sharing our pain, as one of the Loose Women presenters opens up about a difficult moment in their life.
Some of the country’s most prolific and successful podcasters understand what a live audience brings – that’s why they tour theatres up and down the country. Yes it’s profitable for them, but it’s also about the immediacy of knowing if a point or a joke lands with an audience, and the joy that can come from bringing them physically into your world.
But we’re closing that chapter on Loose Women. And it feels weird. When we look across that room every day and see the audience feel every twist and turn, it can feel comforting.
But the wonderful thing about our show is that we all have each other, and what we will lack in an audience we will make up for with the unpredictable, unmatched, and uncontrollable energy that only a gang of Loose Women can provide.
So as we bid farewell, we also toast new beginnings. Who knows what we’ll get up to when we’re left alone to our own devices?
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