Analysing Eamonn Holmes' Mid-to-Late Life Crisis

Last week Eamonn Holmes – bronzed news anchor, Irish provocateur, mansize Flump in a suit – made a very important announcement over Facebook. Here's what he had to say:

That's it. Fight back the tears, Holmes is hanging up his indiscriminate Blue Anchor range suit jacket and rolling up his radio mic for the last time. No more Eamonn Holmes, the man who reads headlines about international conflict as though reading the menu card from a tin of Quality Street to a vaguely interested living room. The man who asks politicians questions like "don't you think that you look a bit stupid?" The man who would help himself to stuff from your fridge. The man who probably thought the Beatles were good until they got all "hippy-like". The man who definitely lingers for slightly too long, breathing heavily over the buffet after the National Television Awards. The man who loves Chris De Burgh. The man who watches the F1 on TV while reading the Daily Mail. The man Phillip Schofield finds a bit unnerving but can't put his finger on why. The man who can't work his smartphone. The man who, at the age of 56, is turning his back on the news anchor role he spent so many sleepless nights dreaming of as a wee Belfast boy.

Following the news of his departure there has been an outpouring of grief as everyone, from Gary Lineker to Frank Bruno, flooded Twitter. Yet that all said, if there's one real surprise in Eamonn Holmes quitting as a Sky News anchor, it's precisely that: 'Quitting'. How on earth has he ended up quitting a job in television before ever being fired from one? Consider the following statements, all of which are true of Eamonn Holmes.

• He referred to West Ham fans attacking a Manchester United bus as going back to "the type of thing you were seeing that was bad about Hillsborough".
• He suggested a sex addict should become a prostitute in order to monetise her addiction.
• He said that "the problem with Prince" was that he was for girls because he was too flamboyant for boys… the morning after Prince's death.
• During a bizarre interview with Jeremy Corbyn, he asked the following question: "Let's talk football, right. Your man's Arsene Wenger, my man was Alex Ferguson. Even Louis van Gaal now. Do you think they go into the dressing room and they say 'Listen boys how we're going to line up tonight, what are we going to do? You disagree? Do you want to play in goal? Do you want to play in goal?' No, they don't. Fergie always said he had to make it clear there was one boss, he was the boss, that was it. That's not your way of doing things though."
• He once said "whatever you do with your flaps, I'm not sure" in reference to Carol Vorderman's vagina. Literally.

These are merely five instances of the bizarre, childlike mind of Eamonn Holmes. Not childlike in an innocent or curious way. Rather, childlike in the way that a massive, spoilt, bored child might behave. His interview style is like that of a toddler poking his pet dog in the eye repeatedly, safe in the knowledge that it's too tired to ever bite back. Even when he softens up, takes off his tie, and steps in to present This Morning with his wife Ruth, his style barely changes. He discusses human concern and personal trauma with the same flippancy he'd likely utilise while telling you how much Harry Ramsden's chips have gone downhill.

It's hard to put your finger on exactly why Eamonn Holmes is on television in the first place – he seems to spend most of his time either confused or upsetting somebody – but there he is regardless. A man nobody asked for, but now he's settled on the sofa he's impossible to move. Like a deaf labrador you can't move from the middle of the living room, or your aunty's new husband who won't stop talking about an RAF airshow he went to.

It seems like even Eamonn can no longer work out why he was given the job of breaking news anchor. Consider this sentence from his statement: "Forty five years plus on I have other dreams…"

The question, the most important question, is thus: when Eamonn Holmes says "I have other dreams," what dreams is he talking about?

In my head, all Eamonn Holmes does when he gets home is eat a big plate of bangers and mash, watch a documentary about Hitler, put on his actual adult pyjamas and slide under the Manchester United covers on the definitely single, separate bed he definitely doesn't share with his wife Ruth. When Eamonn then closes his eyes, what are the wild visions that plague him? From what feverish scene did Eamonn Holmes wake up, drenched in sweat, shouting "I've got it Ruthie, I've got it!"? What was the dream that made Eamonn realise he had to quit his job as an anchor on Sky News Sunrise?

I've come up with this list of possible things Eamonn Holmes might be dreaming of. Going on Would I Lie To You again, bangers and mash, drinking a pint of Guinness with Alex Ferguson, driving a fast car, kissing a supermodel, presenting Children in Need, seeing the Corrs live, solving a murder, being good at tennis, being knighted, Battenbergs, meeting Elvis.

Beyond that I'm at a total loss. Whatever it is, whether writing his biography or getting really good at checkers, something has lit a spark in the old dog – a spark that hasn't burned this bright since he was a small Belfast boy, weirdly dreaming of hosting the a cable news channel's breakfast slot.

Although maybe I'm asking the wrong question. Maybe the question is less "what does Eamonn dream of" and more "why on earth is he being afforded the opportunity and presumably funding to pursue them?" It's not unreasonable to assume that Holmes is leaving Sky News because he knows that if he turns around to ITV and says "I want to host a golf-based gameshow with Dan Walker, so I do" they will find the money and make it happen. Surely this is a mistake. A glitch in the daytime TV matrix.

For if we've learnt one thing, it's that this confusing, volatile presence on British television cannot be trusted. He's nearly national treasure material – rotund, grey hair, gentle accent – save for a rogue streak, a vacant nihilism behind his eyes. So looking forward, it's probably best to keep an eye on him. Whether he starts writing military novels or attempts to spearhead a Loose Women spin-off called Dapper Chaps with Piers Morgan, you can be sure it won't be without incident.

Eamonn Holmes floating through life being vaguely rude about things he knows nothing about, and talking loudly about classic FA cup finals. Constantly saying controversial things, less in an outrageous way, more in a bemused "what did I say?" dad way. A man who is now, completely and utterly invincible.

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