INTERVIEW WITH GRAEME SWANN – RECRUIT NUMBER 6 (BRITISH)

Age: 46

From: Northampton

Occupation: International Cricketer

IG - @officialgraemeswann

Graeme Swann is a former England international cricketer, renowned off-spinner, and Ashes winner who represented Northamptonshire, Nottinghamshire, and England across all formats. A key figure in England’s Ashes triumphs in 2009, 2010, and 2011, he earned a reputation as one of the country’s finest all-round spin bowlers, notably taking two wickets in his first Test over. After retiring from international cricket in 2013 due to an elbow injury, Swann went on to compete on Strictly Come Dancing (BBC), finishing seventh, and now works as a cricket pundit while fronting a rock band. A long-time fan of Celebrity SAS: Who Dares Wins, he is motivated to take on the challenge despite admitting the interrogation phase is his biggest fear.

Why did you sign up to take part in Celebrity SAS: Who Dares Wins?

I did Strictly in 2018 and decided after that I wouldn’t do any more of that kind of TV. It just didn’t feel very real to me and it wasn’t the lifestyle I was used to. It wasn’t like the sporting world — it wasn’t an even playing field in the same way. I actually told my agent only about two weeks before the offer came in that I wasn’t interested in doing any of those shows, apart from Celebrity SAS: Who Dares Wins. I told him if they ever asked me to do that, I’d say yes straight away, because I love it and weirdly, a couple of weeks later, they asked me. I’ve got three kids, and I’m almost despairing at the way the world seems to be heading at the moment — the lack of resilience, all the nonsense we see every day in the news and in life. I wanted to show that even though I’m nearly 50 and well past my prime, I’m still willing to get out there and do something genuinely hard. Something that shows that no matter how difficult things get, you keep putting one foot in front of the other and you can still achieve something — even if it’s just self‑esteem or breaking through a personal barrier. So I said yes immediately.

It’s interesting hearing you talk about a level playing field. Do you think some people had an unfair advantage? 

In a way, yes. If you’ve played sport, you understand how hard things can be physically. People who’ve only worked in entertainment or on social media don’t always realise how demanding tasks can get. That said, I was completely blown away by how hard it actually was. Based on what I’d seen before, and my past experiences, I thought it might be watered down — a bit lights, camera, action. It absolutely wasn’t. It was brutally hard, and I realised that on day one. I remember going back to my bed on the first night thinking, Jesus Christ, have I done the right thing? Everyone was convinced we’d be woken up in the middle of the night for another task. Something inside me thought they couldn’t possibly do any more that day — it might actually kill one or two of us off. I wasn’t even the oldest there. Thankfully, we got some rest.

What did you hope to get out of the experience? 

I wanted to see if I could do it — if I could last the course and get through the torture phase at the end. I was convinced I could. I wasn’t worried about the shouting or loud noises. I’d been screamed at by 100,000 Australians at the Melbourne Cricket Ground, so I knew I could handle that. My cricket career ended because of a physical injury to my right elbow, and over the years I’d built that up in my head. I knew it still niggled, but I wanted to prove I could get through the week and that my body wouldn’t let me down again.

Any surprises?

I must admit, I thought we were going somewhere cold. Cold and wet doesn’t bother me — I’ve done it before. I was mentally prepared for that. So when we suddenly found out we were heading somewhere hot, and we were told to start getting used to high temperatures, it completely threw me. Once I got there, I didn’t actually mind the heat — it was like playing cricket in hot countries — but I’d psyched myself up for cold weather, and that really was a spanner in the works.

How did you find the living quarters? 

I’ve played cricket. I’ve been in changing rooms full of sweaty men. I’ve trained in hot countries with no shower facilities, then had to sit on a bus for an hour that stank of sweat. But those toilets… it was just poo. Someone — I don’t know who — was dropping absolute snakes in there. The smell was unreal, especially during the day when it was being cooked by the heat. At my age, you need the toilet during the night, but we weren’t allowed to go alone. I’d have to wake someone up, and as soon as you got near the door, the stench hit you. Grim. Absolutely grim.

Did you manage to get any sleep? 

The pillow was tiny — you may as well have rolled up a sock. But weirdly, it reminded me of camping as a kid. I love military sleeping bags — they taper at the feet and feel really snug. Sleeping on edge, knowing you might have to jump up and get changed at any moment, I actually enjoyed that in a strange way. Before the Ashes, we sometimes did military training camps where you’d be woken in the middle of the night. I’m quite good at that. Give me a comfy hotel bed and I’m useless in the morning, but knowing you have to be alert, I weirdly enjoyed it.

If you could have brought one luxury item onto the course, what would it have been? 

Sweets. Definitely sweets. I know I’ve got three kids and I should set a better example, and I eat fruit and all that — but sweets. Those blue and pink bubblegum cola bottles? I absolutely love them.

What was the toughest part of the experience? 

Physically, without question. Mentally, I’d psyched myself up for most things. I don’t really have phobias of heights, cold water, or deep water. Physically, though — my days. I reckon the easiest physical task there would still rank among the hardest things I ever did in sport. One of the tasks — carrying weights into a Jeep, then the Jeep breaking down — was brutal. At one point, me and Ben were physically lifting the Jeep so we could push it forward. You start seeing stars when you’re working that hard. I nearly passed out a couple of times, especially with the smoke in my eyes. And every time you think you’re done, they add another 200 metres. I never realised how heavy a Jeep was. With a ton of kit in the back, flat tyres, pushing it uphill — even with an International Rugby World Cup winner beside me, four of us could barely move it.

Who did you bond with the most? 

Definitely Ben. We played rugby together as kids, so reconnecting with him was special. Our lives have gone in very different directions, yet also similar ones.

From the Aussie side, Axel. I loved Axel — proper rock‑and‑roll Aussie. Brad Hodge too, because I knew him through cricket. Despite what the press says, England‑Australia cricketers rarely hate each other.

I also really got on with the younger lot — Jack and Cole especially. I didn’t even realise who Dani Dyer was at first; I just thought she was pretty. When she started talking about her dad, I suddenly clocked it and felt embarrassed. Everyone thought my name was Gary for the first four or five days, which was brilliant. I probably felt like the weird uncle at a wedding by the end, but I had an absolute hoot with them — Cole, Jack, Dani, Gabby — usually whoever happened to be lined up next to me.

Was there any competition between you and Brad over cricket? 

No. That rivalry is massively overplayed in the press. We were just two cricketers from different countries.

What was your proudest moment? 

Any challenge you complete feels like a win, but Rat Race stands out. Crawling through those tunnels ripped my hands to shreds. They were horrible. I’m not claustrophobic, so how anyone who is managed it is beyond me. Blind S‑bends in the dark, getting stuck — and I’m not exactly broad‑shouldered compared to some of the others. I had absolutely nothing left by the end, but it was the first task I’d actually completed and passed. Sitting in the car afterwards, I was just thankful.

Who surprised you the most? 

Dani. She’s tiny, but she just doesn’t stop. Even when she says she can’t go on, she keeps going. I grew up in a time with a lot of misogyny, and I was continually impressed by the women — especially physically. I thought I was stronger than some of them, yet I was at my limit while they kept matching it. Honestly, everyone showed something beyond what I thought humans were capable of.

If you had to be stuck on a desert island with one person? 

It’d be between Axel and Ben. Ben is ultra‑reliable — he’d run through a brick wall with you. Axel has that musical side I love. I’d flip a coin.

What were the DS really like? 

What you see on TV is exactly what you get. 

Did you hear the other recruits complaining much? 

Yeah, there were some whingers, but that’s normal. People were tired and hungry. That’s how some people cope. I actually found it reassuring — if they hadn’t been giving us grief, I’d have been worried. When chocolate bars were left lying around, I didn’t touch them once. I knew it was a trap.

How did you find the mental side of the course and having to open up to the DS?

I promised myself I wouldn’t cry — and then my bottom lip went. I was like, oh no. It made me realise how much I was putting into it. I went in thinking it would be a breeze, and then suddenly I was getting emotional talking about my kids and how proud I am of them. I felt embarrassed at first, then realised there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. If anyone has a go at me for that, then f*** them.

What do your kids think? 

They didn’t ask too much when I got back. I told them I didn’t want to give too much away and that I hoped they’d enjoy watching it. I just hope they’re proud.

Did you notice the cameras? 

You completely forget about them. They’re remote and everywhere, which actually makes it feel more real. The amount of times I tried to sneak off for a quiet fart and realised I was staring straight into a lens. One night I went out for a poo and saw a red light moving. I genuinely thought I’d seen a UFO. I stared at it for five minutes before realising it was about three metres away — one of the cameras watching me take a shit.