What Cheryl's big comeback teaches us all about failure & rejection

Scottish Sun

17 hours ago

Read on as Zara Janjua discussed Cheryl Tweedy's return to a judging panel, THAT Rachel Reeves moment and Lidl's 'Oasis' edit
ZARA JANJUA What Cheryl's big comeback teaches us all about failure & rejection
IT'S been five years, a toddler and the tragic death of her former partner, and now Cheryl Tweedy is dusting off her combat boots for another go at showbiz – this time as a mentor on The Voice.
There is, of course, a delicious symmetry to Cheryl returning to a judging panel, given her own history of being judged — sometimes by the nation, often by Simon Cowell, and once by an actual judge after assaulting a nightclub toilet attendant.
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After five years, Cheryl is dusting off her combat boots for another go at showbiz
Credit: Getty
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The Scottish Sun's columnist Zara Janjua has her say
Credit: The Sun
Yes, back in 2003, the artist formerly — and currently — known as Cheryl Tweedy found herself in the headlines for all the wrong reasons.
But what is a comeback if not a dish best served with a side of public amnesia?
From toilet scuffles to military jackets to divorces, Cheryl's career has been a carousel of reinvention.
One minute she's flying high in Girls Aloud, the next she's being unceremoniously ejected from X Factor USA because Americans apparently couldn't decipher a Geordie accent.
If there's one thing Cheryl's taught us, it's this: to have a good comeback story, a door needs to slam spectacularly shut somewhere first.
And as far as rejection stories go, Nadiya Hussain is in the thick of it. Queen of Cakes. Duchess of Dough. Empress of 'no soggy bottoms on my watch'.
She is, by any metric, the most successful Great British Bake Off winner in history.
A ten-year media career. Multiple cookery series. Best-selling cookbooks. Children's books. Memoirs. A woman who baked the actual Queen's 90th birthday cake. And a net worth of £5million. So, you can imagine her surprise when her BBC show was popped to back of the Tupperware drawer, her decade-long series coming to a bitter end.
COST OF BEING A STRONG WOMAN
ANYONE who's ever had to work through tears knows how brutal it is.
I once did a live broadcast moments after a blazing row with a colleague – hiding in a disabled loo, sobbing down the phone to my mum, praying I'd cried it all out.
Chancellor Rachel Reeves didn't get that luxury.
She cried – visibly, painfully – throughout PMQs while Kemi Badenoch pounced and Keir Starmer failed to guarantee her future.
Whatever sparked it – pressure, personal turmoil or a reported bust-up with Speaker Lindsay Hoyle – it was a rare public unravelling.
But behind the scenes, this isn't rare at all. One in five women leave work during menopause, often because they feel they can't cope – and can't be seen not coping.
We expect women in power to be composed, unshakable and relentlessly strong. And when they show cracks, we call it crisis.
But maybe what we're witnessing is simply the unseen cost of being 'the strong woman' in politics.
And what followed was the well-meaning but tone-deaf chorus of: 'But Nadiya . . . shouldn't you just be grateful?'
Grateful. The double-edged sword handed to every woman of colour who dares step into the mainstream.
Because gratitude, we are told, should be worn like a cosy cashmere shrug.
Until, of course, it starts to feel like a straightjacket. In a blisteringly honest video, Nadiya laid it out: 'Gratitude shouldn't be a muzzle.' And honestly? Amen and Salam, sister.
As a woman from an immigrant family myself, that hit deep. I've spent years saying thank you for every gig, every opportunity, every crumb dropped from the banquet table of broadcasting. Not because I'm not deserving, but because we are raised to believe that being allowed in the room is a privilege. Even when the door hits you on the way out.
I was made redundant and dumped in the same week — by a man who, mere months earlier, was shopping for engagement rings.
There is no rock bottom like one that arrives with a P45 and a 'We need to talk . . .'
LIDL'S BUDGET 'OASIS' EDIT
WHILE Ticketmaster risks lawsuits for selling overpriced Oasis tickets, it's Lidl that deserves to be dragged to The Hague – for war crimes against fashion.
The bargain chain has unleashed a Liam Gallagher-inspired parka in Lidl's distinctive highlighter yellow, blue and red.
It's like Kappa and Greggs had a lovechild during a budget blackout.
Just in time for Liam and Noel's Murrayfield gigs in August, too.
I can already picture the crowd: a sea of primary-coloured waterproof regret.
I've never begged for the Scottish weather to behave itself more – and I lived through three T in the Parks and a wedding in Fort William.
But if he hadn't ghosted me harder than my agent in August, I wouldn't have packed up, moved to London and built the career I have now.
Rejection isn't failure. It's the universe offering a plot twist.
And, trust me, that plot twist usually comes with a far better LinkedIn bio.
So what is the recipe for a great comeback? Equal parts failure and reinvention. A pinch of public sympathy. A tablespoon of spite (optional, but highly recommended). And a big, fat dollop of knowing your own worth.
I have no doubt Nadiya, like her sourdough, will rise again. And maybe that rise won't be in the oven but on the dancefloor.
Strictly came calling once before. This time the door might just swing open with a cha-cha and a cheeky wink.