In the glittering chaos of reality TV, few names spark as much devotion as Pete Wicks. Known for his inked-up arms, sharp wit, and a heart that wears its scars on the outside, Pete has become a cultural fixture on shows like The Only Way Is Essex and Celebs Go Dating. But lately, fans and tabloids alike keep dragging him into the same tired comparison: “the next Paul.” Enough. Pete isn’t a sequel. He’s the original.

Pete Wicks is the guy who will wrestle in the mud with his rescue dogs, French Bulldogs named Eric and Peggy, then post the muddy aftermath with a grin that says, This is living. He’s the one who openly talks about mental health struggles, breaking the macho stereotype one raw Instagram story at a time. When he cries—and he does, unapologetically—it’s not for the cameras. It’s because he feels everything deeply: love, loss, loyalty, and the weight of public scrutiny.

His humor is self-deprecating, quick, and often filthy in the best British way. He’ll roast himself before anyone else gets the chance. Remember when he accidentally set his kitchen on fire trying to cook for a date? He didn’t hide it. He filmed the smoke alarm symphony and laughed until he wheezed. That’s Pete: gloriously, messily human.

What makes him special isn’t the fame or the six-pack (though both help). It’s the way he loves—fiercely, protectively, sometimes clumsily. He’s been burned in relationships, cheated on, heartbroken on national TV, yet he keeps showing up with that lopsided smile, ready to try again. He’s the friend who’ll drop everything at 2 a.m. if you need him. The one who remembers your dog’s birthday. The one who’ll tell you the truth, even when it stings.

The “Paul” comparisons—whether it’s Paul Knightley, Paul Gascoigne, or any other larger-than-life figure—miss the point entirely. Pete isn’t trying to fill shoes. He’s kicking them off and running barefoot through life, picking up strays (literal and figurative) along the way. His journey with therapy, sobriety curiosity, and building a brand beyond reality TV shows a man evolving in public, not performing for applause.

Fans flood his comments with dog memes, voice notes of support, and pleas to “just be happy.” Why? Because Pete reflects something rare: authenticity in a filtered world. He’s not polished. He’s not perfect. He’s Pete—the guy who’ll ruin a white sofa with paw prints, then cuddle the culprit anyway. The one who’ll tell a stranger they’re enough. The one who reminds us that being a mess is okay, as long as you keep laughing through it.

So let’s retire the comparisons. Pete Wicks doesn’t need to be the next anyone. He’s already the only Pete—flawed, funny, furry-hearted, and fiercely himself. And in a world full of copies, that’s the rarest kind of magic.