The British Quiz Shows That Would Struggle to Make It to Air Today

Before streaming, smartphones and endless on-demand entertainment transformed the way people watched television, the weekend quiz show was a fixture of British family life.

Millions of viewers would gather around the television for the biggest programmes of the evening. By the 1980s, when most households had one or two colour televisions, some peak-time shows were attracting audiences approaching 19 million, figures that are difficult to imagine for comparable programmes today.

The presenters became celebrities in their own right. Bruce Forsyth, Ted Rogers, Jim Bowen, Les Dawson and others were familiar faces in homes across the country, earning substantial salaries while delivering the humour and entertainment expected of the era.

But television has changed, and so have the standards applied to what can be broadcast to a family audience.

Many of the jokes, stereotypes and attitudes that were once treated as harmless entertainment would now be regarded as unacceptable. Some much-loved programmes have adapted successfully, while others would almost certainly require major changes if they were being pitched to television executives in 2026.

From overt sexism and narrow gender roles to casual homophobia, body-shaming and relentlessly personal banter, these are some of the quiz and game shows from the 1960s to the 1990s that would look very different if they were being created today.

Mr and Mrs

1965 to 1999

The UK version of Mr and Mrs arrived in 1965 after originating in Canada, with Derek Batey becoming the familiar face of the British edition.

The format was straightforward and remains recognisable today. One person in each couple was asked a series of questions about their husband or wife. The spouse then faced the same questions, with couples who matched their answers rewarded with the chance to win the programme’s jackpot.

The format reflected the social attitudes of the period. The couples were heterosexual, and traditional family roles were common. Men were frequently portrayed as the principal breadwinners while women were presented as homemakers.

There was also little ethnic diversity among the contestants.

A game built around how well couples know each other could still work today, but the assumptions about marriage, relationships and family life that surrounded the original version would require a very different approach.

3-2-1

1978 to 1988

For many families, 3-2-1 was a Sunday-night institution.

Broadcast by Yorkshire Television on ITV, the show ran for a decade and made Ted Rogers a household name. His sidekick was Dusty Bin, the instantly recognisable mascot who became one of the programme’s enduring symbols.

The format was based on the Spanish programme Un, dos, tres… responda otra vez and combined quizzes, entertainment and prizes.

The show’s presentation, however, would look strikingly dated today.

Rogers was surrounded by the so-called 3-2-1 girls, who appeared in revealing outfits, often coordinated with the prizes being offered. Their role was largely visual. They rarely spoke, while Rogers remained firmly at the centre of the programme.

The humour also relied heavily on the sexist stereotypes of the period. Jokes that were once accepted as part of light entertainment would be unlikely to pass modern broadcasting standards.

The Generation Game

1971 to 2002

The Generation Game secured one of television’s most coveted slots: Saturday night on BBC One.

Bruce Forsyth and Larry Grayson were among the presenters who fronted the programme, which challenged contestants to complete a series of tasks before reaching its famous conveyor belt.

At the end of the show, contestants had to remember as many prizes as possible as they passed before them. Anything they could correctly recall could become part of their winnings.

Forsyth’s catchphrase, “Didn’t he/she/they do well?”, became closely associated with the programme.

Yet beneath the family-friendly format were attitudes that have not aged well.

Women working on the show were often presented as glamorous assistants. Anthea Redfearn and Rosemarie Ford, for example, were expected to model prizes, read scores and help with demonstrations while Forsyth remained the central personality.

The programme later took on another very different identity under stand-up comedian Jim Davidson, who was already known for outspoken and controversial views.

Davidson left in 2002 after seven years as host. He later claimed that the broadcaster had objected to his right-leaning political views and traditional values.

The combination of the show’s old-fashioned gender roles and some of Davidson’s controversial reputation would make the original format a difficult proposition for a modern broadcaster.

Bullseye

1981 to 1995

Few programmes captured the spirit of 1980s Sunday-night television quite like Bullseye.

The darts and quiz show became one of ITV’s biggest successes, regularly attracting between 15 million and 20 million viewers during its most successful years. Jim Bowen, the former teacher and stand-up comedian, became inseparable from the programme.

His catchphrases, “super, smashing, great” and “you can’t beat a bit of bully”, remain strongly associated with the show.

The format brought three pairs of contestants together to compete in darts and answer questions, with Bowen providing the humour between rounds.

Much of that humour, however, was directed at the contestants themselves.

One particularly uncomfortable example involved Jane Groves from Hampton, Middlesex, who appeared on the programme in 1988 after taking part in a sponsored slim.

Bowen asked her, “How much do you owe?” The audience responded with laughter before Bowen acknowledged, “That’s very unkind of me.”

The exchange illustrates how jokes about people’s appearance and weight could be treated as routine entertainment at the time.

Bullseye has since returned in a different form, with former cricketer Andrew Flintoff taking over as host and guest appearances including teenage darts star Luke Littler. But the version remembered most fondly by many viewers remains the one fronted by Bowen.

The Price Is Right

1984 to 1988

For viewers who grew up in the 1980s, The Price Is Right was a Saturday-night staple.

The format had originally appeared in the United States on NBC in 1956 before being adapted for British television. ITV’s version aired at around 7pm, with Leslie Crowther as presenter.

Crowther was already a controversial figure because he had previously hosted The Black and White Minstrel Show.

The basic premise was simple: members of the audience were invited to compete by estimating the prices of various products. Crowther introduced contestants with the familiar “Come on down, the Price is Right” line.

But the programme’s treatment of its female presenters and assistants would look particularly dated now.

Known initially as the “Host’s Hostesses” and later as the “Glavenous Girls”, the women were generally fashion models who had little to say. Their job was largely to smile, look glamorous and stand beside the prizes.

They could be seen posing across cars and other items contestants might win, turning the women themselves into part of the visual presentation of the prizes.

That kind of gendered presentation would require a substantial rethink if the programme were being created for a modern family audience.

Blankety Blank

1979 to 1990

Blankety Blank became one of the era’s best-known BBC entertainment shows, with celebrities seated behind its famous desks and attempting to match answers to fill in the blanks.

Les Dawson turned the programme into a major hit. The Manchester-born comedian was known for his grumpy persona and deadpan delivery, but much of his comedy relied on material about his wife, mother-in-law and women more generally that would be viewed very differently today.

His predecessor, Larry Grayson, was famous for his “shut that door” catchphrase and a deliberately camp persona.

That persona reflected a television culture in which gay men appearing on mainstream primetime programmes were often presented through exaggerated, effeminate caricatures rather than more varied and realistic portrayals.

Even the modern history of Blankety Blank has not been straightforward. The latest BBC version, hosted by Bradley Walsh, was cancelled in July 2026 as part of the corporation’s latest cost-cutting measures.

The Dawson-era version, with its humour and attitudes, would face an even tougher challenge if it were being proposed from scratch today.

Blind Date

1985 to 2003

When Blind Date was at its peak, viewers watched three potential suitors compete for the chance to go on a date with a contestant hidden from view behind a screen.

Presented by former 1960s pop star Cilla Black, the ITV programme became one of the best-known dating shows of its generation.

The original format, however, reflected a much narrower idea of relationships than would be expected on television today.

No gay contestants appeared during the original run, leaving the programme firmly rooted in a heterosexual model of dating.

Gender expectations were also prominent. Male contestants were expected to pay for dates, while women taking part were often portrayed as financially dependent on the men they were matched with.

Many viewers regarded such conventions as harmless television at the time. By modern standards, however, the combination of heteronormative assumptions and casual misogyny would make the original format difficult to reproduce without substantial changes.

They Think It’s All Over

1995 to 2006

The sporting panel show They Think It’s All Over brought together leading figures from the worlds of sport and comedy and became a major hit during the 1990s.

Nick Hancock was the original host, while the regular team captains included David Gower, Gary Lineker, Phil Tufnell, Ian Wright and David Seaman, alongside comedians and other sporting personalities.

The programme developed a distinctly male, competitive atmosphere. Producers later acknowledged that the all-male panel could behave “like teenagers” when female guests appeared.

The tone was often described as having a “locker-room” quality, with insults and personal attacks presented as banter.

Former Manchester United footballer Luke Chadwick became one of the clearest examples of where that approach could go too far.

Chadwick was repeatedly mocked over his appearance, including his teeth and acne. Some of the jokes became particularly personal.

One line compared Iron Maiden’s Number of the Beast with Chadwick’s shirt number, saying that if viewers wanted to know the number of the beast, Chadwick wore number 36.

Another joke was: “This photo of Luke Chadwick was ruined… when Luke Chadwick turned up.”

Hancock and Lineker later apologised to Chadwick for the comments.

Chadwick subsequently explained that the attention seriously damaged his confidence and affected his mental health.

Speaking to the BBC in 2020, he described becoming “a picture of fun” and said the popularity of the programme magnified the impact. He said he dreaded the show being broadcast and would sometimes receive messages from people telling him he had appeared on it again, even though they regarded the whole thing as a joke.

For Chadwick, however, the humour was anything but harmless. The experience stayed with him while the programme’s audience laughed along.

Man O Man

1996 to 1999

If Man O Man were pitched today, its premise alone would immediately raise questions.

Two years before taking on the role that would make him one of Britain’s biggest television presenters on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire, Chris Tarrant hosted this dating and entertainment programme.

The format was effectively a beauty pageant for men.

Ten male contestants competed in front of an audience of 125 women. At one stage, the men appeared in swimwear, while they were also asked to deliver chat-up lines and show off their muscles.

The women in the audience then voted electronically for the contestants they found most appealing.

The programme took the format of a traditional beauty pageant and reversed the genders, but that did little to remove the objectification at its centre.

If a female contestant was unimpressed with a man, she could push him into a swimming pool as the audience jeered.

Some viewers regarded the show as tongue-in-cheek entertainment. Others saw it as degrading, arguing that reversing the traditional beauty-pageant formula did not make the underlying treatment of people any less outdated.

Taken together, these programmes reveal just how much British television has changed.

Many of the formats themselves were simple enough to survive. Quizzes, prize games, dating shows and panel programmes remain popular. What has changed most dramatically is the culture surrounding them: who gets represented, how contestants are treated, how women and minorities are portrayed, and where broadcasters draw the line on humour.

For audiences who remember these programmes, that shift can be striking. What once passed as ordinary Saturday-night or Sunday-night entertainment can now look uncomfortable, and sometimes deeply troubling, through a modern lens.

The biggest stars of those programmes could command enormous audiences because television occupied a very different place in family life. But the same mass audience would also make outdated attitudes far more visible.

The challenge for today’s broadcasters is not necessarily to abandon familiar formats. It is to recognise which elements belonged to their time and which would have no place on a modern television screen.