Take That's 'Do What You Like' Video: A Chaotic Dive into British Pop Culture
As an American journalist, I have long been familiar with two distinct versions of Britain. The first is the polished, export-ready fantasy of stately homes, velvet blazers, and refined conversations over red wine. The second, based on my lived experience, is a nation fueled by meal deals, damp socks, and a resigned acceptance of malfunctioning dryers. Somewhere between these two extremes lies the true essence of Britain, and I have recently discovered that this truth includes the utterly unhinged world of Take That.
The Cultural Blind Spot: Take That's Atlantic Divide
For many Americans, Take That remains a significant cultural blind spot. While Robbie Williams might be recognized for his role in a monkey movie, the band itself never achieved the same transatlantic fame as groups like One Direction or The 1975. This means that an entire foundational piece of British pop culture has largely been missed by American audiences. My introduction to this phenomenon was far from gentle; it came through the uncensored music video for their 1991 song, Do What You Like. What follows is a genuine, real-time account of my first encounter with this truly memorable audiovisual achievement.
False Confidence and Initial Expectations
Before pressing play, my knowledge was limited but confident. I knew Take That was a British boy band, that Robbie Williams famously refuses to button his shirts due to his time with them, and that British people hold a deep attachment to the group. My editor warned me that the video contained a shocking surprise. As someone who viewed the public reaction to Saltburn with bemusement, I considered myself difficult to shock. I anticipated something charmingly dated, perhaps featuring coordinated dancing, a wind machine, or at worst, some light pelvic thrusting. Reader, I was a fool.
The Opening: A Dystopian Fashion Statement
The video opens with the band members clad in little motorcycle outfits, prompting an initial note of amusement. However, the presence of crosses quickly shifts the tone. Are they post-apocalyptic priests? A Mad Max scenario with a Hot Topic twist? The ensemble combines leather, fringe, religious iconography, and capri pants, showcasing remarkably hairless calves. There is something deeply endearing about a group of men dressed as dystopian clergy who also appear ready to lead a 2003 Zumba class. I also noted how undeniably cute they were, understanding why teen girls once adorned their walls with posters of these boys.
Confusing, Athletic, and Intensely Moist Vibes
Very quickly, the video enters a texture-forward phase. Whipped cream and jelly—yes, I have learned that in Britain, it is called jelly, not Jell-O, though spiritually it is the same—are applied to the band members by women with the intensity of toddlers icing cupcakes unsupervised. At one point, a woman rubs whipped cream onto a man's shoulders as if applying Tiger Balm to a sports injury. Why? Because, as the song reminds us, you can Do What You Like. I giggled at the thought of this video as a testament to free will. Imagine the band being asked what they would do if they could do anything, and replying in perfect harmony: Jelly wrestle with my bros!
Homoerotic Jazzercise Choreography
The dancing deserves its own academic study. One member, small and joyful, beams while thrusting energetically every time the word energy is sung, as if he personally invented the concept. Another specializes in hand dancing, amplified by aggressively fringed sleeves. I found myself hoping they would kiss. Then there is the member in what appears to be a chainmail thong worn over leather capri jeggings, who spends the video executing ballet leaps and occasional backflips. Before Benson Boone, there was Take That. I was distracted by wondering if it is slippery to perform backflips on a floor coated in dessert.
Imposing Narrative Logic: The Gospel According to Jelly
At a certain point, I attempted to impose narrative logic. Everyone is wearing crosses, and there is an abundance of jelly being shared, thrown, and smeared. Is this sacramental? An alternate universe where the body of Christ is jelly and the blood is whipped cream? Take this jelly as my body, I mused. Journalism is about staying curious, after all. Oh, and they are hip-thrusting more now!
Camera Work: A Man Discovers the Zoom Function
Around the halfway mark, it becomes clear that the camera operator has recently discovered the zoom function and is determined to get their money's worth. We zoom in, we zoom out, we zoom into places we do not need to see. At one point, I wrote simply: I am getting motion sick. There are also numerous shots of crotches covered in jelly. Was this the shocking part I had been warned about?
The Turning Point: Sticky Brotherhood
Amid the chaos, something almost wholesome emerges. The band members are covered in jelly, shirtless, laughing, and cuddling. It evokes male friendship, a rejection of toxic masculinity through shared stickiness. For a brief moment, I thought: This is nice. This is actually kind of punk. Look at their radical joy as they shed the burden of restrictive manhood to cuddle in a big gooey pile! And then—
The Ending: Oh. Oh No.
Without warning, the video escalates from mildly unhinged to Oh my god, am I breaking a law by watching this on my work computer? Suddenly, a naked, jelly-covered bum appears. Then, all of them are fully naked, covered in jelly, lying in a group. Just existing. Presenting? No, existing. This is an angle of the male form that should only be viewed by French painters and the inside of trousers. I wrote in all caps: WHIPPED CREAM BUMS!!!!! No number of exclamation points could convey my surprise. I laughed wildly, perhaps almost sobbing. Inexplicably, a woman is mopping the bums. I was worried they might get ants, so it is good someone is cleaning up, I guess. At this point, I abandoned all attempts at cultural analysis.
Cultural Context: The Making of a Low-Budget Masterpiece
After processing the jelly and doing some Googling, I learned that this was a low-budget music video shot in 1991 at a studio in Heaton Mersey. It was co-directed by former BBC Radio 1 DJ Rosemary Barrett, who also presented The Old Grey Whistle Test. Wait, a woman directed this? I love that! Is this the feminine gaze Emerald Fennell discusses? A feminist reversal of woman as object to be viewed? Where is this queen now? Did Rosemary Barrett walk so Greta Gerwig could run? The official premise is that the band cavorts with women while smearing jelly on themselves. Cavort is an incredibly funny word for what is, in reality, full-scale dessert chaos. Unsurprisingly, the video was banned from daytime TV. Yet, in true British fashion, it still aired late at night on The Hitman and Her, because this is a nation that believes there is a correct time for jelly-based nudity: after the watershed. This was early Take That, pre-polish, pre-ballads, pre-Gary Barlow becoming a national institution. Just a group of chaotic young men saying Yes ma'am! to a woman with a vision. Rosemary saw the David in the marble and, with the strength of her foremothers, muttered to her PA: More jelly, thereby changing the course of British culture forever.
Final Thoughts: Mystifying Yet Entertaining
Do I understand the cultural phenomenon that was Take That better now? No! This experience was utterly mystifying. Still, I had fun. I laughed, I bobbed my head, I gasped! Do I understand Britain better? Also no. But I do understand that there is a very specific, very British flavor of pop culture that exists entirely outside the American gaze. A world where boy bands can be equal parts Catholic Mad Max, dessert-themed performance art, and full-frontal chaos. Britain keeps its freakier stuff private and exports the more palatable. I can understand that, and it is a privilege to be let in on your secrets. I will never look at jelly the same way again.
