The jewel in the crown of daytime TV, Homes Under the Hammer is now in its 22nd series. Which means it’s been going since the days when houses were actually affordable. That’s more than a thousand slices of property punning, literal music and the banging bongos that signify the unbridled excitement of an auction.
For many years, Hammertime was ruled by the cheekily impeccable presenters Lucy Alexander and Martin Roberts. Lucy’s enthusiasm for the humble side return extension knew no bounds. She was a cheerleader for even the most hapless buyer. After a tough morning examining dry rot in a soggy studio flat in Kettering, would she waver? She would not. Instead, dear Lucy would strut around resplendent in a bright scarf while Reel 2 Real pocketed a welcome royalty cheque for their criminally underrated hit Jazz It Up.
The devil was very much in the detail with HUTH: this show was an eminent purveyor of puns long before Bake Off got in on the act. From an old police station to a house in need of some TLC (soundtracked by Lisa “Left Eye” Lopes and friends), HUTH could pun anything.
Which brings us to the majesty of the literal music. You can imagine the smug look on the face of the researcher who first dug out M People’s Movin’ on Up, but then the theme escalated. A deserted high street? Cue the Specials’ Ghost Town. A missing wall? Drop Foreigner’s Cold As Ice. The mere glimpse of gravel will evoke the Wu-Tang Clan – they don’t need a whole pit. Celebrity fans such as Meryl Streep, Mark Wahlberg and Dave Gorman also raved about The Hammer, taking a daytime sleeper hit into the spotlight. But due to a little too much self-awareness and an unfortunate switch of presenters, the foundations of the beloved property show began to subside.
The dry rot set in with the introduction of Dion Dublin. Not that there’s anything wrong with the cheerful ex-footballer (and inventor of musical instrument The Dube). It’s more that he popped up like a third wheel, disrupting Lucy and Martin’s perfect presenting dynamic. Saying something interesting while you stroke a textured wall is an art form, and Dubbers didn’t quite measure up. And then the unthinkable happened: Lucy left, tempted away by the promise of rolling around on Carpetright’s finest shagpile every day. The woman who had represented the fixtures and fittings of HUTH was gone. (Of course, HUTH is such a repeat-riddled vortex that nobody ever really leaves and Lucy still turns up in vintage episodes.)
Now, the puns are overplayed and the presenters look a little too pleased with the honour of delivering them. It’s a stark contrast to the early days, when it felt as if Martin and Lucy were coming up with these gems off the cuff. And surely they must have used up all the pieces of literal property-related music by now. Up on the Roof is worn out. It’s time for Lucy to kick that door down, evict the televisual squatters that are Dion Dublin and Martel Maxwell and reclaim her place as queen of daytime property porn.