In the glittering yet unforgiving world of daytime television, where polished smiles and scripted chit-chat reign supreme, few guests can hijack the spotlight quite like Miriam Margolyes. The 84-year-old British-Australian actress, beloved for her unforgettable turn as the no-nonsense Professor Pomona Sprout in the Harry Potter franchise, has long been a chaotic force of nature. But on Thursday, September 3, 2025, during her latest appearance on ITV’s This Morning, Margolyes didn’t just steal the show—she set it ablaze with a barrage of crude anecdotes, graphic bodily confessions, and an on-air onion-munching spectacle that left viewers reeling. What started as a promotional spot for her new memoir, The Little Book of Miriam, and her upcoming tour devolved into a masterclass in unfiltered eccentricity, sparking a firestorm of backlash. Social media erupted with fury: “I can’t stand this woman. She’s just vile.” “Stop chomping on that onion, with your mouth open, and talking at the same time, you ill-mannered old bat.” As complaints poured in, one thing was clear—Margolyes had crossed a line, or perhaps leaped gleefully over it, dividing audiences between those who adore her unapologetic candor and those who now demand her permanent ban from the sofa. Was this a bold stand against sanitized TV, or a tone-deaf display of privilege? Dive in as we unpack the chaos, the outrage, and the enduring enigma of Miriam Margolyes.

The Setup: A Recipe for Daytime Disaster

This Morning, the ITV staple that has been serving up a mix of celebrity gossip, health tips, and lifestyle fluff since 1988, thrives on its ability to balance the mundane with the mildly sensational. Hosted that fateful morning by the affable Ben Shephard and the ever-poised Cat Deeley, the episode kicked off innocently enough. Fresh from a segment on pet care—complete with advice on canine “poo tests” from resident vet Dr. Scott Miller—the stage was set for Margolyes’ entrance. At 84, the actress arrived not as a fading star, but as a whirlwind of wit and whimsy, her diminutive frame belying a personality that could fill Wembley Stadium.

Margolyes was there to plug two passion projects: her memoir The Little Book of Miriam, a collection of irreverent essays and stories from her storied career, and her one-woman tour, a raucous romp through her life that had just wrapped a stint at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. She’d also jetted back from Blackpool, where she’d been scouting locations for future antics. “I’m here to talk about my book and my show,” she began, her voice a gravelly cocktail of Cockney charm and Oxford polish. But true to form, Margolyes had no intention of sticking to the script. As Shephard and Deeley leaned in with their trademark warmth, the interview veered from the promotional path faster than a runaway shopping trolley.

It all began with the onions. Earlier in the show, celebrity baker Juliet Sear had whipped up a batch of crispy onion rings, a leftover prop from the cooking segment. Margolyes, eyeing the plate like a kid in a sweet shop, dove in—raw. Not the fried variety, mind you, but plump, pungent white onions, bitten into with audible crunches. “These are absolutely superb!” she declared, juices dribbling as she chewed with her mouth agape, fragments visible on the live feed. Shephard chuckled nervously, “You’re really enjoying those onions, aren’t you?” Deeley, ever the diplomat, covered her mouth in a mix of amusement and mild horror, as captured in a viral screenshot that would later fuel memes across Twitter (now X).

But the onions were mere appetizers. What followed was a feast of the forbidden: a deep dive into the actress’s morning ablutions. Seizing on the pet poo test chat, Margolyes launched into her own scatological saga. “You talked about the dogs having a poo test—I did a poo test this morning,” she announced matter-of-factly. “It was vivid. It was difficult, you know.” Shephard, caught off-guard, probed gently: “For anything specific?” Margolyes, undeterred, barreled on: “I don’t want to go into details… but you must have a poo test! It’s very important. It can save your life.” She elaborated on the ordeal—”It went on a little bit longer than expected… I’m sure it’s alright. It can be a bit messy, I think. Doctors should find a better way”—before dropping the bombshell: “I put it in a perfume bag to soften the blow.”

The studio froze. Deeley, wide-eyed, blurted, “What is going on here?!” Shephard stifled a giggle, the camera catching his hand over his mouth in a futile bid for professionalism. Viewers at home, however, were less amused. Tuned in for mid-morning escapism—perhaps a quick recipe or celebrity scoop—they were now confronted with a graphic tutorial on fecal sampling, all while Margolyes continued her onion assault. “I didn’t put the TV on to see Miriam Margolyes talking with her mouth full about poo tests,” one viewer tweeted, a sentiment echoed thousands of times over.

The Escalation: Farts, Royals, and Hollywood Horror Stories

If the poo test was the entrée, the main course was a smorgasbord of bodily betrayals and regal faux pas. Margolyes, ever the storyteller, prefaced her next tale with a half-hearted disclaimer: “I don’t mean to be crude. I think of myself as quite sophisticated. But out pop these things, you know—what can I do?” It was a line that would haunt her, as critics later pounced: “‘I don’t mean to be crude…’ yes you do.”

First up: a royal revelation. Margolyes confessed to a near-catastrophic encounter with Queen Elizabeth II. During a handshake at Buckingham Palace, she’d lost her balance, nearly yanking the monarch to the floor. “I almost pulled her down!” she cackled, before admitting to “passing wind quietly” in the hallowed halls. “If you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go,” she shrugged, drawing uneasy laughter from the hosts.

Then came the Hollywood bombshell. Recalling her time on the set of 1999’s apocalyptic thriller End of Days, Margolyes recounted how co-star Arnold Schwarzenegger had unleashed a flatulent assault directly in her face. “He passed wind right in my face—it was vile!” she exclaimed, her eyes widening in mock horror. “I didn’t like it. Don’t aim it at someone!” The irony was thicker than the onion fumes: here was Margolyes, decrying flatulence as “vile” while regaling a family audience with the details. Shephard shifted uncomfortably, Deeley forced a smile, but the damage was done.

Nor did she spare the intimate details of daily life. Promoting her book, Margolyes lamented its tame title, wishing for something ruder like “Oh F**k Off” to match her spirit. She then shared that her live-in lodgers—trusted companions in her Italian villa—assist her with the most personal task: fastening and unfastening her bra each morning and evening. “They help me get in and out of it,” she said casually, as if discussing the weather. It was a vulnerability wrapped in vulgarity, a glimpse into the frailties of aging delivered with zero filter.

By the segment’s end, the once-pristine This Morning sofa resembled a battlefield of breached boundaries. Shephard wrapped it up with practiced poise: “Miriam, always a pleasure—chaotic as ever!” Deeley nodded, but off-camera whispers suggested the production team was already bracing for the fallout. Little did they know, the real storm was brewing online.

The Backlash: A Digital Deluge of Disgust

Within minutes of the episode airing at 10:30 a.m., #ThisMorning trended on X, but not for the fashion tips or guest chefs. Instead, it was a torrent of revulsion aimed squarely at Margolyes. “Oh, foxtrot off, Margolyes, you disgusting woman,” fired one user, channeling a politer version of the expletives flying elsewhere. Another summed up the sentiment: “I can’t stand this woman. She’s just vile.” The phrase “vile behaviour” became a rallying cry, with over 5,000 mentions in the first hour alone.

Complaints zeroed in on the unholy trinity: the onions, the poo, and the perpetual crudeness. “Stop chomping on that onion, with your mouth open, and talking at the same time, you ill-mannered old bat,” raged @TVSnob2025, a post that garnered 12,000 likes and hundreds of retweets. Pre-lunch timing amplified the nausea: “Do we really need to hear this just before lunch? Couldn’t she have her lunch before she came on? Please make her stop eating,” pleaded @MumOfThreeUK, echoing a chorus of queasy parents switching channels mid-bite.

Ofcom, the UK’s broadcasting regulator, reported a spike in formal complaints—over 200 by evening, surpassing recent tallies for similar slip-ups. Viewer forums like Digital Spy lit up with threads titled “Miriam Margolyes: Too Far This Time?” One poster vented: “She’s funny in doses, but this was relentless. Talking about putting poo in a perfume bag? On ITV daytime? It’s not edgy; it’s embarrassing.” Another added, “At 84, she should know better. Or maybe she doesn’t care—and that’s the problem.”

The backlash wasn’t uniform, of course. A vocal minority rallied to her defense, hailing Margolyes as a breath of fresh air in a sterile TV landscape. “Miriam Margolyes is so funny, love seeing her on,” tweeted @ComedyLover65, while @AgingGracefully quipped, “Many people disagree, but I bloody love Miriam Margolyes. I could listen to her stories for days!” “Miriam is great. So far from the usual fakes who pretend to be perfect,” chimed in another. These posts, though fewer, highlighted her appeal: an octogenarian icon unafraid to embrace the messiness of life, fart jokes and all.

Yet the negatives drowned out the positives, painting Margolyes as a relic out of touch with modern sensibilities. Tabloids pounced: The Sun ran “MIRIAM’S POO PARANOIA SHOCKS FAMILIES,” while The Mirror dissected her “fart-fest” history. Pundits weighed in, with TV critic Emily Andrews of The Guardian opining, “Margolyes’ charm lies in her authenticity, but authenticity without boundaries feels like exhibitionism. This Morning invites chaos, but viewers deserve a safe space before elevenses.”

Miriam’s Legacy of Live-TV Lunacy: A Pattern of Provocation

This wasn’t Margolyes’ first rodeo—and therein lies the intrigue. The actress has a storied history of turning This Morning into her personal confessional confetti cannon. Flash back to 2021: During a chat about her travelogue Lost in Scotland with Alan Cumming, Margolyes let rip a thunderous fart live on air. Hosts Holly Willoughby and Phillip Schofield dissolved into hysterics, with Schofield gasping, “I can’t. I’m professional, I should pull myself together. Miriam’s just done the most enormous fart.” Margolyes, unfazed, owned it: “You outed me! When you’re embarrassed, you’re at your most open—don’t be afraid to feel embarrassed.” She then pivoted to a Madonna rant, calling the pop icon “a nasty piece of work.” Viewers were split: some branded it “unprofessional,” others crowned it “peak TV gold.”

Then, in 2023, the gloves came off—literally. Appearing to promote her wellness escapades, Margolyes swore twice: mouthing an expletive before blurting “st.” Willoughby issued a swift apology, but Margolyes was just warming up. She delved into her sex life—”Sex is not for me now, but bottoms are friendly if a man flies his…”—and extolled the virtues of “steaming my yoni” (a euphemism for vaginal steaming). “I’ve just come back from Austria and I went to a rocker place and I steamed my yoni. It did me a world of good. You put a big saucepan with some mint… spread your legs. It’s peaceful and pleasant.” At 82 then, she reflected: “My friends say I haven’t changed. I’ve always been as naughty and outspoken. What I’ve learnt is to be kind. Otherwise, I’m sort of perfect really. I fart a lot, ps a lot, but I’m still going.”

These moments cemented Margolyes’ rep as TV’s “grande dame of gross-out.” Born in 1941 to a Jewish family in London, she rose through the ranks of British theater and film, earning an OBE in 2002 for services to drama. Her Harry Potter role endeared her to millennials, but it’s her post-fame candor—on everything from her atheism to her disdain for “woke” excesses—that keeps her relevant. In a 2025 interview with The Times, she declared herself “unapologetically woke,” adding, “I won’t apologize for loving being a lesbian.” Yet her provocations often backfire, as seen in her 2024 backlash over Israel-Palestine comments, where she called Zionism a “dirty word.”

Critics argue her antics mask deeper issues: ageism, ableism, or simply the privilege of a white, wealthy octogenarian. “Miriam gets away with what others wouldn’t,” tweeted disability advocate @AccessAllAreas. “Imagine a younger woman talking vaginas on daytime TV—she’d be canceled.” Defenders counter that her vulgarity is subversive, a middle finger to performative politeness. As she told The Late Late Show in October 2025, “I’m here to stir the pot, not sip from it.”

The Aftermath: Fallout, Forgiveness, and the Future of Filth

By Friday morning, September 4, the backlash had metastasized. ITV issued a bland statement: “This Morning celebrates diverse voices, and Miriam is a cherished guest. Viewer feedback is always welcome.” Margolyes herself remained silent—no tweets, no clapbacks—perhaps savoring the silence or plotting her next salvo. Her tour sold out additional dates, and The Little Book of Miriam climbed Amazon’s charts, proving controversy is the best publicity.

But the scars linger. For This Morning, already reeling from Phillip Schofield’s 2023 exit amid scandal, the episode underscored a tightrope walk: How much “realness” before it tips into revulsion? Ratings dipped 5% the next day, per BARB figures, with families fleeing to BBC’s Morning Live. Shephard and Deeley addressed it obliquely on Friday: “We love a lively chat, don’t we?”—a nod to the elephant (or onion) in the room.

For Margolyes, at 84, this could be her swan song—or her signature. She’s no stranger to cancellation threats; in 2022, she shrugged off outrage over using an outdated slur for disabled people, apologizing profusely but standing by her “naivety.” Will she return? “Only if they serve onions,” joked a producer anonymously to Variety.

In the end, the “vile” verdict says more about us than her. In an era of filtered feeds and fragile egos, Margolyes is a relic of raw humanity—farts, poo tests, and all. Love her or loathe her, she forces us to confront the uncomfortable: Life’s messiest moments are often the most memorable. As one defender posted, “Miriam isn’t vile; she’s vital. In a world of bland, she’s the spice we need.” Whether that’s enough to redeem her latest lapse remains the million-viewer question. Tune in next time— but maybe skip breakfast.