Trolls attacking Holly, Phil and Ellie should be ashamed, says Christa Ackroyd

And so I prepare for another four weeks of ‘rest’. In fact another month of no weight bearing with crutches. So what to do? It’s long enough to start that autobiography. Which I won’t. Too short to sort out my clothes or kitchen cupboards. Which I should. And all with a fetching black rocker on my right leg to boot which is meant to and does restrict my movements.

So what to do? Watch television of course. So thank the Lord and the TV angels for Bake Off and Strictly. Never before have we so needed the light fluffy offerings of the baking tent. And never before has an abundance of sequins and glitter been so welcome after the darkness of the past few weeks. Forget your party conferences. We have over-dosed on politics and even I as a journalist am sick to the back teeth of the lot of them. But from the first Signature Bake to the extravagant opening dance number, I was hooked on both. They may signal Christmas, but never before in the history of light entertainment have they been so needed, not just by me, but by a grateful nation. Sparkly costumes. Bring them on. A Hollywood handshake? The most welcome sight in all the world. It’s autumn and the days are getting gloomier, but never so gloomy as the end of summer we have just had. And excuse me if you think I am being flippant, because I am not, but before the fires go on (mine did for the first time this week) and households and businesses alike start worrying about how they will pay the bills, please let’s have a little warmth, a little sunshine. If only on the telly.

But no. As my mum would say there’s always some who have to spoil it for others. And boy have they been working overboard these past couple of weeks. When there is little to do but check your social media every few minutes you notice it even more. And even if you are not the subject, which believe me I have been, after a day or so of scrolling it starts to wear you down. Worse than that it blackens the mood, changes the day and sullies the world outside. Firstly, I want to address Queuegate as it has been dubbed it. Is it really worth the energy of more than 70,000 people to sign a petition calling for Holly and Phil to lose their jobs when they were, er, just doing their jobs? It quite clearly wasn’t what the photos were edited to look like, they quite clearly were not filing past her Majesty’s coffin in the roped off queues, but were exiting tucked along the wall of a very wide room through a side entrance with their lanyards on display along with others behind them who had been allowed, for whatever reason, to witness for themselves the atmosphere in that ancient hall. And why not? You may see Holly as someone who flogs wellbeing products or pretty frocks, or Phil as someone who fronts a sell your car commercial, but they happen to present a daytime TV programme that is well watched and on every day. And that was the topic of the day.

Among the social media posts that reported to inform and educate us about what really went on, was a photograph of Holly Willoughby smiling beside a bright young thing who took her own life because of the vitriol thrown in her direction, Caroline Flack. Oh how we have forgotten the hashtag Be Kind. Well yes, say the trolls, but we are right about this one. No you are not and do we really need that level of anger and downright hatred? No we do not, blame the ITV bosses who sent them there, but don’t blame the presenters. Because if you were working and had the chance to quickly take a look from a viewing gallery then quickly move on you probably would have done too. And before you mention St David, yes David Beckham, working he was not. He was there because he had the time to be there.

Let me get back to Strictly; that glorious programme that often stops you in your dance tracks to realise that deaf people, or gay people or disabled people want to dance too. That they have as much right to as the rest of us. So I am saddened that even before the first vote-off Ellie Symonds the golden girl of the Paralympics who achieved so much in the pool and nervously wanted to try something new was the victim of trolls. Well shame on you. ‘‘How is the dwarf going to dance’’ is quite simply evil. And the answer was very well actually. But that’s not to say it didn’t hurt, or hadn’t the potential to destroy even before the first spray tan was dry.

So here is my point. It is no good me saying ‘Be Kind’ to those who are not, and who never will be. It is up to us to cull them from our lives and answer them with a firm ‘not in my name’. There are so many other important issues to be tackled, which collectively we can do something about. We can check on our neighbours to make sure they are coping with food and heating or just the stress of it all (like we did in the pandemic). We can sign an online petition which stands by the brave women of Iran who are chopping off their hair or setting their headscarves alight because a young woman was arrested and, its alleged, killed for not wearing the hijab correctly, or by our sisters in India whoare protesting for not being allowed to wear theirs as a minority religion in a country that plans new laws to ban them. They have no choice. We have plenty. And we can choose to be kind. That is morality.

So trolls get back under your bridge. I am having none of your nasty little games. Instead lead me by the hand towards bread week and pie week. Let your buns be light and fluffy and ignore those who would wish you a soggy bottom (but never a soggy foot). Take me whirling and spinning metaphorically, for a while at least, towards Hallowe’en and Movie week and towards Blackpool, that great ballroom of fun and laughter. But remember it’s your choice as to whether you choose to spin the glitter ball of life for good, not for self serving mock outrage. To those who disagree, well it may be some time before I can dance again, but I can promise you when I do I will never dance to your tune.#BeKind.