POLL: Should Gregg Wallace have been sacked over MasterChef scandal?
Former MasterChef host Gregg Wallace has vowed to “not go quietly” following reports that he’s been dropped from the show
Gregg Wallace has reportedly been dropped by the BBC (Image: BBC)
TV presenter Gregg Wallace stepped away from hosting MasterChef last year after a number of historical complaints came to light. However, it has now been reported that he’s been dropped following an investigation, despite being cleared of groping claims.
In November, he stepped back from presenting the popular cooking show after claims of alleged misconduct, which sparked an external investigation by the show’s production company, Banijay UK. The 60-year-old posted a defiant statement today ahead of the publication of the summary of a report into the claims, saying he has been cleared of the “most serious and sensational accusations”.
He said on Instagram: “I have taken the decision to speak out ahead of the publication of the Silkins [sic] report – a decision I do not take lightly. After 21 years of loyal service to the BBC, I cannot sit in silence while my reputation is further damaged to protect others.”
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Gregg claimed: “I have now been cleared by the Silkins (sic) report of the most serious and sensational accusations made against me. The most damaging claims (including allegations from public figures which have not been upheld) were found to be baseless after a full and forensic six-month investigation.
“To be clear, the Silkins Report exonerates me of all the serious allegations which made headlines last year and finds me primarily guilty of inappropriate language between 2005 and 2018.”
He later added: “I was hired by the BBC and MasterChef as the cheeky greengrocer. A real person with warmth, character, rough edges, and all.
“For over two decades, that authenticity was part of the brand. Now, in a sanitised world, that same personality is seen as a problem.”
“Whilst he is not excusing his inappropriate comments and innuendos – some of which he has been found against – on his recent autism diagnosis, this has been a mitigating factor.
“He has also been cleared of some of the higher profile allegations, including those brought on by Penny Lancaster and Kirsty Wark, but the BBC has made it clear there is no way back for him. He is devastated.”
For more than two decades, Gregg Wallace has been a fixture on British television, his booming laugh and cheeky banter as much a part of the MasterChef brand as the iconic cloche and the tense, ticking clock. But in one of the most dramatic and, some might say, divisive moments in the show’s long history, the BBC has reportedly decided to part ways with the man who helped turn a humble cooking competition into a national obsession. The news, which broke this week, has left fans reeling and sparked a fierce debate about where the line should be drawn between authenticity and acceptability in the world of modern broadcasting.
Wallace, now 60, was already a household name when he first stepped into the MasterChef kitchen, a former greengrocer with a twinkle in his eye and a natural rapport with contestants and viewers alike. He was, by his own admission, “the cheeky greengrocer”—a man who brought warmth, humour, and a certain rough-edged charm to the show. But times have changed, and what was once celebrated as character is now, in some quarters, viewed as problematic. In November, Wallace stepped back from presenting duties after a series of historical complaints came to light, triggering a full-scale investigation by Banijay UK, the production company behind the hit series. For months, speculation swirled. Had the beloved host crossed a line? Was this yet another case of cancel culture run amok, or was there something more serious at play?
On Friday, the man himself broke his silence in a defiant Instagram post, speaking out ahead of the publication of the long-awaited Silkin report. “After 21 years of loyal service to the BBC, I cannot sit in silence while my reputation is further damaged to protect others,” Wallace declared, his words ringing with the pain and frustration of someone who feels wronged by the very institution he helped to build. He was quick to point out that he had been cleared of the “most serious and sensational accusations”—claims that had dominated headlines and cast a long shadow over his career. “The most damaging claims (including allegations from public figures which have not been upheld) were found to be baseless after a full and forensic six-month investigation,” he wrote, making it clear that, in his view, justice had finally been served.
But the report, it seems, was not without its criticisms. Wallace admitted that he had been found “primarily guilty of inappropriate language between 2005 and 2018,” a period when, by his own account, the boundaries of what was considered acceptable banter were far more blurred than they are today. He did not seek to excuse his actions, acknowledging that some of his comments and innuendoes had been inappropriate, but he did point to his recent autism diagnosis as a mitigating factor—a detail that adds yet another layer of complexity to an already tangled tale. “I was hired by the BBC and MasterChef as the cheeky greengrocer. A real person with warmth, character, rough edges, and all,” he reflected. “For over two decades, that authenticity was part of the brand. Now, in a sanitised world, that same personality is seen as a problem.”
It is a sentiment that will resonate with many who have watched the slow, inexorable shift in the tone of British broadcasting over the past decade. Where once there was room for eccentricity and imperfection, there is now a relentless drive towards polish and political correctness—a trend that has left some viewers yearning for the days when television felt a little less scripted and a little more real. For Wallace, the cost of that shift has been nothing short of devastating. “He is devastated,” a source close to the presenter confided, describing a man who feels not just let down, but actively betrayed by the institution to which he gave so much of his life.
The Silkin report, which was commissioned in the wake of a string of complaints from both colleagues and public figures—including Penny Lancaster and Kirsty Wark—was exhaustive in its scope, examining every aspect of Wallace’s behaviour during his time at the BBC. The findings, while clearing him of the most headline-grabbing allegations, were nonetheless damning in their own way. Inappropriate remarks, off-colour jokes, and a fondness for innuendo may have been tolerated in years gone by, but they are now, evidently, enough to end a career. The BBC, for its part, has made it clear that there is “no way back” for Wallace, regardless of the fact that the most serious claims were found to be baseless.
It is a decision that has divided opinion both inside and outside the corporation. Some argue that the BBC has done the right thing in holding its presenters to the highest possible standards, sending a clear message that inappropriate behaviour will not be tolerated, no matter how famous or beloved the individual in question may be. Others see it as yet another example of a once-great institution losing touch with the very audience it is supposed to serve, sacrificing authenticity on the altar of political correctness.
For Wallace, the fallout has been deeply personal. In his Instagram statement, he spoke movingly of the toll the investigation has taken on his mental health, describing sleepless nights and a sense of isolation that will be all too familiar to anyone who has found themselves at the centre of a public storm. “I have now been cleared by the Silkins report of the most serious and sensational accusations made against me,” he insisted, his words tinged with both relief and lingering bitterness. “To be clear, the Silkins Report exonerates me of all the serious allegations which made headlines last year and finds me primarily guilty of inappropriate language between 2005 and 2018.”
There is, of course, a certain irony in the fact that Wallace’s greatest strength—his ability to connect with people, to put contestants at ease, to bring a sense of fun and humanity to the often-intense world of competitive cooking—has ultimately proved to be his undoing. In a media landscape that increasingly prizes conformity over individuality, there is little room for the kind of rough-edged charm that once made Wallace such a breath of fresh air. Yet for all the pain and disappointment, there is also a sense of pride in what he has achieved. “For over two decades, that authenticity was part of the brand,” he wrote. “Now, in a sanitised world, that same personality is seen as a problem.”
As the dust begins to settle on one of the most contentious departures in recent television history, the question remains: what does the future hold for Gregg Wallace, and for the wider world of British broadcasting? Will the next generation of presenters be willing to take the risks, to show the kind of vulnerability and humanity that made Wallace such a compelling figure? Or will they, too, be forced to smooth out the rough edges, to hide behind a veneer of bland professionalism in order to survive?
Only time will tell. For now, Wallace’s departure serves as a stark reminder of the shifting sands of public taste, and the often-painful consequences for those who find themselves on the wrong side of the cultural divide. It is a story that will be debated for years to come—a cautionary tale for anyone who dares to be different in a world that increasingly demands sameness. And yet, for all the heartache, there is also a glimmer of hope: that somewhere, somehow, the spirit of the cheeky greengrocer will endure, reminding us all of the value of authenticity, even in the face of adversity.
