shame

Trewley-Precious opened up about the pressure she felt to stay in her marriage because of her culture, admitting she was left feeling ashamed after walking away

A Channel 4 star has opened up about her love life.

The Secret Lives of Gypsy Wives star broke down in tears as she said that she felt like a “failure” after leaving her marriage. Trewley-Precious made a return to our TV screens tonight (August 10) for another episode of her Channel 4 reality show, as she yet again allows cameras into her family life.

She attempts to forge a career online, while balancing the expectations of her traditional Traveller family. During a heartfelt moment, the reality star revealed she married at just 19 and left her husband three years later, admitting she felt a huge amount of shame because of the expectations placed on her within her culture.

In some Traveller communities, traditional expectations can place a strong emphasis on women marrying young, settling down and having children.

Trewley was discussing her life with a friend when she was asked how her family felt about her being a “rule breaker”, with her friend pointing out that, “realistically”, she should probably have been married with three children by now.

Speaking to the camera, Trewley explained: “Yeah, I’ve done one of those things. I was in a relationship for four years, I was a wife. To be married in our culture means that you’ve been given to a man without church and you’re set for life.”

The star went on to reveal that she had married her husband when she was just 19. “I got married to him when I was 19 and then I left him when I was 22,” she said. “I got out of there, it just wasn’t good, it wasn’t the nicest thing.” But despite leaving a relationship she says was not good for her, Trewley admitted she struggled emotionally with her decision.

“I felt a lot of shame when I left him, just because it felt like I had failed,” she said. Later, back in bed with her friend, Trewley became visibly emotional as she reflected on how long she had remained in the marriage. To think I was in such a bad place being in that marriage for so long,” she said. “I should have left that two years prior to everything and I didn’t because it was a shame.”

Fighting back tears, Trewley explained that the experience had fundamentally changed the way she viewed relationships and, most importantly, herself.

“It taught me that the only thing we had in common at that time is that we both didn’t love me and now I do,” she said. “I’d never be in something like that ever, ever, ever, ever again.”

Trewley went on to discuss the expectations she had grown up with about marriage and standing by a husband “through thick and thin”.

“I’ve seen a lot of women survive their marriages, survive this and that but I’m not doing that,” she said. “I’ve just been raised that you stand by a man through thick and thin but now that I’m older, I’ve also realised you show a man that you’ll go through anything with him, they’ll put you through everything.”

Her comments appeared to bring up painful memories of her own family, with Trewley becoming overwhelmed as she questioned how her mum had endured so much.

“How could my mum put up with so much, do so much, I can’t,” she said through tears. “In my head, I just couldn’t do what my mum did. So I failed.”

But her friend immediately reassured her that leaving an unhappy marriage did not mean she had failed. “No you haven’t failed. You know your worth,” her friend told her. Trewley admitted that learning her own worth had taken time. “I didn’t for a long time but it took me ages to get it back,” she said.

And it appears the experience has completely changed what she wants from a future relationship. “The next person I will be with, they will tick, tick, tick,” Trewley said.

You can catch up on Secret Lives of Gypsy Wives on Channel 4.

The best weapon in the “Jackass’” arsenal isn’t the taser, the beehive or the booby-trapped latrine. It’s the explosion of relief when a prank ends, often in humiliation, always with hoots and claps. The first film, 2002’s “Jackass: The Movie” was slow to discover that carnage without camaraderie is painful; several injuries limped off-screen in horrified silence. Laughter heals, except for the brain hemorrhage that Johnny Knoxville suffered in 2022’s “Jackass Forever” when, dissatisfied by the clobbering he took from a bull, requested a second ramming that knocked him out cold.

Hence “Jackass: Best and Last,” the goon squad’s alleged final film, is underwhelmingly tame. Shot quickly by stalwart director Jeff Tremaine this spring, half of it is a clip reel of past hits, like the time fan favorite Steve-O slingshotted into the sky in a port-a-potty. The rest is scraps of hastily assembled chaos, the most elaborate of which is a puppet show in which veterans Ehren McGhehey, Dave England and Jason “Wee Man” Acuña dangle helplessly from strings, trying to recite cue cards while being pummeled by tropical fruit. “A pineapple!” Wee Man moans.

I’m no sadist. They’ve suffered plenty for our amusement. Still, it’s a shame that for the first time in two and a half decades of cringe comedy, the guffaws feel forced.

Acknowledging the Jackasses’ age, if not maturity, are a couple skits about prostate and rectal checkups. (The gnarliest involves clear pants, colonoscopy prep liquid and a game of Twister.) Modern technology enters the arena with a nimble-fingered robot. If the team had invested any actual energy into brainstorming this entry, they’d have played paintball with a sniper drone. At least for the sake of torch-passing, someone should have thought of something for the newish members introduced in “Jackass Forever” to do besides stand around and applaud.

These fresher faces — Jasper Dolphin, Rachel Wolfson, Zach Holmes — prove brave and resilient when allowed to participate. Only one of them, Sean “Poopies” McInerney, a surf bro so gullible that I’m not sure he’s capable of informed legal consent, fits into “Best and Last” like a well-worn punching bag. (When Poopies yelps that “my mind is getting to me” while wearing a shock collar around a sensitive area, people snort because, as sweet as he seems, the only thing rattling inside his cranium is a moth.) Early on, Poopies gets swollen lip injections that, someone claims, will last the whole movie. You expect his trophy wife pout to be a running sight gag. But his disfigurement never even gets another closeup.

“Jackass” started with a bang. In January of 1998, Knoxville, then a 26-year-old aspiring actor, strapped on a cheap bulletproof vest padded with a stack of “Hustler” magazines and fired a gun point-blank into his chest. His dumb derring-do went viral on VHS tapes, earning him an MTV show and five feature films. Watching that Rosetta Stone-cold stupid footage here, you’re struck not only by his audacity, but by the scene’s excruciating comic pacing. As there’s only one bullet in the pistol, empty chambers click multiple times before the bullet finally fires. Logically, you know Knoxville will live long enough for his hair to turn fright-wig white. Yet the lizard brain making you gawk is shrieking.

Do not attempt any of the stunts you’re about to see, the prefatory caution blares. Absolutely. The thing is, no one else could. “Best and Last’s” flashbacks are a walloping reminder that Knoxville is inimitable: a telegenic and extroverted entertainer with a charisma he wields like a skunk aims its stink. Upset him at your own risk. Like Buster Keaton before him, Knoxville has an uncanny awareness of how his death-defying escapades appear on camera. Even in that near-suicidal early segment, note how Knoxville stays on his feet, enduring agony with a magician’s “Ta-da!” He might have given himself a bruise the size of a baseball but he’s focused on the audience’s delight.

Over the years, the visuals dramatically improve, from snuff film aesthetics to confidently silly splendor. “Jackass Number Two,” released in 2006, expended major energy on a musical homage to Old Hollywood that nodded to Keaton and bathing beauty Esther Williams who, in MGM’s “Million Dollar Mermaid,” plunged 50 feet into a pool and broke her neck. By 2010’s “Jackass 3D,” which riffed on classic cartoons with Knoxville strapping himself onto an Acme-style red rocket, one could admit they went to see a Jackass movie for the cinematography with even more sincerity than if Knoxville claimed he bought “Hustler” for its life-saving properties.

The new movie doesn’t have any artistic ambition. The charitable excuse for its reliance on old material is that the gang wanted one more film that summed up their entire legacy — from the impact of seeing them age to the opportunity to include departed colleagues Ryan Dunn, who died in 2011, and Bam Margera, fired in 2020. The other explanation is it’s a cash grab made for pennies. Still, Steve-O strives for memorable moments, gathering the gang in a generic office building corridor to watch him take off his pants and pop out a ping-pong ball. There’s a lot of nudity but the setting feels half-assed.

“Best and Last’s” intro splat-tacular, typically a highlight of each film, hinges on the posse standing still on a moving floor. But the monochrome staging — white walls, white ground — looks almost like CGI, the antithesis of their appeal, and it takes us a minute to understand what’s actually going on. Worst, it lacks both suspense and surprise, that no-they-aren’t–oh-god-they-are drama that once elevated the franchise to the peak of pure cinema.

There is — and I mean this — existentialism in witnessing a person embrace shame and terror. Actors have won Oscars without achieving the transcendence of, say, misery glutton McGhehey in “Jackass Forever,” bound to a chair and coated in salmon and honey, realizing that his friends have released a bear into the room. Meryl Streep could never do that (and wouldn’t have to). McGhehey’s sole path to stardom is that he did.

Not everything in a “Jackass” movie needs to be that sublime. One of my few genuine howls in “Best and Last” came in a three-second rehash of someone stepping on a rake; another was the percussion Chris Pontius makes with his swinging nethers before attempting a naked Fosbury flop. There’s a great accidental gag in a cut bit from the original MTV pilot when a deputy pulls up to arrest Knoxville and forgets to put her car in park. Yet the snippet I keep thinking about is a throwaway beat in a new skit when McGhehey willingly gets into the wrong chair again and, once freed, attacks Knoxville who coolly knees him in the nuts. Everyone chuckles.

Once, in anthropology class, my professor lectured on an insular island tribe that cackled whenever someone got hurt. Schadenfreude was the community’s way to vent tension. I thought of that village throughout “Best and Last,” especially during Knoxville’s nonchalant disarmament of his pal. Team Jackass has stayed united even while at each other’s throats. In bad times, they’ve borne each other’s struggles with sobriety and mental health. In good, they’ve seen the inequality of success that’s left Knoxville in a better financial position to retire than the rest.

While “Best and Last” is a whiff, I can forgive this band of bozos’ urge to make it. No one seems happy to still be zapping themselves with electrodes. They just want to rally together for the final time to choke out one last laugh.