6/4/2025 | Entertainment | GB
Let's talk about Lorraine Kelly. Not the polished, camera ready version we see sipping tea opposite celebrity guests at 9am, but the real one—the woman who just told ITV, with the quiet fury of a Scottish grandmother holding a wooden spoon, that she's 'not done yet.' After four decades in breakfast television, her show got demoted to a seasonal half hour slot, effectively cutting her airtime in half. And her response? A masterclass in how to age defiantly in an industry obsessed with youth.
This isn't just another scheduling change. It's a cultural litmus test. Because here's the thing about Lorraine—she didn't just survive British morning TV, she helped invent it. When TV am lost its license in the 90s, most presenters vanished like last night's makeup. Lorraine? She outlasted them all, weathering format changes, network shuffles, and that one time Richard Madeley accidentally compared her to a particularly energetic terrier. Now, at 65, she's being quietly sidelined while male contemporaries like Phillip Schofield (until his dramatic exit) got golden handshakes and standing ovations.
The hypocrisy stings. ITV positions this as 'streamlining,' but look closer. While Lorraine gets trimmed to 30 weeks, Good Morning Britain expands its slot. Loose Women—another female fronted show—gets similarly reduced. Meanwhile, the network created a bizarre 'Head of Lorraine' role with a one year contract, which sounds less like a promotion and more like corporate gaslighting. Imagine naming a position after someone while dismantling their life's work.
Her recent BAFTA acceptance speech said it all. 'Here's a BAFTA for being alive,' she joked, holding the mask like a woman who knows the game. Because that's what this industry does to women over 60—it hands them lifetime achievement awards while slowly pushing them off stage. Just look at the checklist: reduced airtime? Check. Vague promises of 'other projects'? Check. That patronizing subtext of 'shouldn't you be retiring by now?' that somehow never follows male hosts? Double check.
Yet here's where it gets interesting. Unlike so many presenters who vanish after leaving their flagship shows, Lorraine still has juice. Her cameo on The Last Leg reminded everyone that unleashed, she's dangerously funny. Her memoir outsold half the ITV executive team's salaries. Even now, negotiating from what should be the weaker position, she reportedly turned down an 'insulting' offer to merge her show with GMB because she knew her value. That's not just professional pride—it's the quiet rebellion of a woman refusing to be archived prematurely.
This taps into something bigger than TV schedules. In the TikTok era, where 25 year olds are considered 'elderly influencers,' Lorraine represents the last of the broadcast icons who grew up without an Instagram filter. Her authenticity—whether discussing menopause or accidentally calling politicians 'k**bs' on air—feels radical precisely because it's not focus grouped. While networks chase Gen Z with reality stars who trend for 72 hours, Lorraine's audience (many watching since her GMTV days) represent actual viewer loyalty. The kind that buys groceries during ad breaks based solely on her endorsement.
Perhaps most telling is what hasn't changed. The show's name remains Lorraine, because frankly, ITV knows the brand is her. The format could shrink to 15 minutes of her reading the phone book, and ratings would hold steady. That's the power of what the industry dismissively calls 'the silver dollar'—viewers who didn't magically stop consuming content because they turned 50. When BBC Radio 2 faced similar criticism for sidelining older presenters, the backlash wasn't just about personalities. It was about erasing the cultural foothold of entire generations.
So no, Lorraine isn't 'done.' Not by a long shot. But her predicament exposes a hard truth: television knows how to celebrate veteran male talent (see: Bruce Forsyth's knighthood, David Attenborough's deity status), but still struggles with women who outlast their 'sell by' dates. The next time some executive claims 'audiences want fresh faces,' remember this—Lorraine's viewers have stuck with her through perms, shoulder pads, and that unfortunate neon phase in the 90s. Maybe what audiences actually want is respect for the icons who earned it.
As for Lorraine? She'll be fine. Whether hosting rogue Channel 4 specials or becoming Britain's cheekiest podcast guest, her career will outlive any corporate reshuffle. But for an industry hemorrhaging traditional viewers, sidelining one of the last genuine connections to its golden age might be the real miscalculation. After all, ITV can cut her hours. But try telling 40 years of television history to sit down quietly.
This opinion piece is a creative commentary based on publicly available news reports and events. It is intended for informational and educational purposes only. The views expressed are those of the author and do not constitute professional, legal, medical, or financial advice. Always consult with qualified experts regarding your specific circumstances.
By Homer Keaton , this article was inspired by this source.