AFTER BBC Breakfast presenter Sally Nugent’s glam new look sparked a fresh wave of toxicity on the troubled show, our insider, who has worked on morning TV for decades, says it’s just the tip of the iceberg.
Here, she takes us behind-the-scenes, into a world of sabotage and backstabbing that’s so vicious, you’ll be choking on your morning cuppa.
Sally Nugent fronts BBC Breakfast alongside Jon Kay and recently unveiled a glam new lookCredit: BBC
Her co-host Naga Munchetty is said to have ranted: ‘We’re meant to be serious journalists, not trying to look like we’re presenting This Morning’Credit: BBC
IT’S 4am, and is furious because there’s thick, orangey foundation smeared across the front of her freshly pressed cream dress.
She pulls it off, flinging it to the floor before pointing the finger at a colleague not present, who she thinks did it in an act of retaliation for someone else hiding her last week. The tantrum doesn’t end there.
The woman continues to rage, “What the hell am I going to wear? I wore the red one yesterday, and the blue one makes me look fat,” whilst I exchange eye-rolls with the girl doing my make-up.
Not for the first time, I feel like I’m in a primary school playground, or maybe a zoo.
I’ve worked on for decades, and these petty acts of sabotage are a daily occurrence in my industry, where the pressure to nab the primetime presenting slots, look flawless and young, and get the highest viewer ratings is intense.
Breakfast television has always presented a family-friendly, warm and welcoming face, the bright, cheery colours, the comfy sofas and the mugs of tea – remember decades ago with TVAM and ’s cuddly teddies and knitted jumpers?
Behind the scenes, it is a different story – which is why I wasn’t surprised at .
Following 54-year-old presenter ’s glamorous glow-up this week, when she appeared with freshly highlighted blonde hair and a bouncy blow-dry, colleague , 51, is alleged to have ranted: “We’re meant to be serious journalists, not looking like we’re presenting .”
Sally and Naga share the high-profile Breakfast slot, with Sally on-screen Monday to Wednesday, and Naga Thursday to Saturday, so the rivalry is fierce.
They will be feeling the pressure even more right now, with the BBC announcing cuts, culls and budgets being slashed across the board.
Anyone on a hefty salary is nervous, and no surprise, the female presenters, Sally included, are desperate to look flawless and ageless at all costs.
The truth is, even in 2026, it’s still an uneven playing field, and women are still judged on their looks.
‘Tip of a toxic iceberg’
As much as we want to be valued for our ability, the reality is very different, and so we play the game, which fuels the toxic competitive environment.
Naga’s thinly veiled side-swipe is just the tip of a very toxic morning TV iceberg, fuelled by this need to stay relevant and in a job.
Breakfast television is as bitchy and backstabbing as the fashion industry.
Women blunt each other’s eyeliner and lipliner, and one took the fuse out of the curling tongs so her rival’s couldn’t be styled until the spare tongs were found.
I’m not revealing my name because I’d be instantly cancelled from all the channels I work for, and it’s a cut-throat business because there are so few coveted on-screen roles.
Loyalty is thin on the ground because every frontline presenter is desperate to stay afloat, to stay relevant, to stay employed.
‘Hate each other’s guts’
Even the most successful TV hosts are, in fact, a bag of insecurities.
And it’s not only the women. Male presenters are increasingly competitive, all vying for the best show and the biggest salaries, now turning to hair dye and like their female counterparts have been doing for decades.
The co-hosts you see on your screens every day are often at daggers drawn. I know of a TV duo currently presenting a news and debate show who hate each other’s guts.
Sally posing for a snap with her new locks earlier this month, wearing a fitted t-shirt embroidered with the word ‘baby’Credit: Instagram
It’s no wonder Sally’s gone for a glow-up, says our insider, she can’t afford to look her ageCredit: Alamy
Sally and Naga share the high-profile Breakfast slot ‘so the rivalry is fierce’Credit: BBC
Stories of itching powder being sprinkled onto a man’s shirt collar (most presenters hang their clothes in the dressing room) or laxatives in your co-host’s cup of tea abound.
One male presenter regularly complains that his female partner scrolls the autocue too slowly, delaying his cue so he stumbles on words, simply to make him look like an idiot.
In retaliation, he swaps the swivel chairs in the studio so she has the one which sinks down and makes her look small.
‘The stakes are high’
Jobs in TV are harder for women; they are judged harder.
Men can still , with laughter lines and gravitas, whereas a woman on TV with grey hair is vanishingly rare.
For the 6am on-air start, women get in around 4am and endure tedious hours in the make-up chair, whereas the men I work with roll in much later.
They often turn up unkempt and unshaved, relying on the hair and make-up team to “sort them out”.
It may sound glamorous, but one poor make-up girl has to trim straggly beards, even wispy eyebrows, and last week even scrubbed fried egg off a male presenter’s tie. It’s not a job to envy.
Why would any of us work in this industry? Like any high-pressure environment, like Hollywood, or fashion, even finance or advertising, it’s addictive.
The stakes are high, the financial rewards are high, and there’s an adrenaline rush every time that red light goes green.
No wonder Sally’s gone for the glow up – she can’t afford to look her age.
There are mornings when I can’t face another blow dry or face full of slap, but then I remind myself: if you don’t look good on-screen, you won’t get work.
On-air, we’re acting the part, smiling at our enemies, graciously complimenting our co-hosts on their lovely dress or , all the while hating their guts and wanting their job.
The TV studio is no place for sissies, that’s for sure.



