‘They are paid a fortune but they’re getting perks we can only dream of’: As Tess Daly and Vernon Kay net yet another lucrative side gig, BBC insiders tell KATIE HIND why staff are sick of star talents ‘topping up’ their lifestyles with extras

When Tess Daly and Vernon Kay announced yet another lucrative side project this month, murmurs of discontent rippled quietly through the BBC’s ranks. To the viewing public, the couple are beloved household names – Tess, the long-time host of Strictly Come Dancing, and Vernon, recently revitalised by his Radio 2 slot. To many colleagues inside the Corporation, however, they embody a growing frustration: the widening gap between the lives of star presenters and the everyday staff who keep the BBC running.

A Growing Rift Between Stars and Staff

For producers, editors, and junior staff, the announcement that Tess and Vernon had signed on for a glossy new commercial campaign felt like salt in the wound. “They are already paid a fortune,” one BBC insider told me bluntly. “And then we see them topping up their lifestyles with perks the rest of us can only dream of.”

The tension here is not new. The BBC has long faced criticism over its “talent pay” – the multi-million-pound salaries for presenters like Gary Lineker, Zoe Ball, and Claudia Winkleman. But the optics of those same stars also cashing in on book deals, endorsements, and brand ambassadorships, while producers grapple with budget cuts and staff face pay freezes, is fuelling quiet but sharp resentment.

A mid-level producer put it this way: “We work 12-hour days, we’re constantly told resources are tight, yet the stars who front our shows are flying off to film glossy ads in between their primetime slots. It feels like there’s one set of rules for us and another for them.”

The Lifestyle Gap

The gulf in lifestyles is striking. Presenters like Daly and Kay are often photographed at luxury events, in designer clothes, and on enviable holidays. BBC staffers, meanwhile, describe struggling with London rents and stagnant wages. “It’s hard not to feel bitter,” one researcher admitted. “We’re told to cut costs on production, to shave off expenses, but then you see a presenter’s new £2 million house in the papers. It makes you wonder where the money is really going.”

While it is technically true that BBC stars are allowed – even encouraged – to pursue outside commercial ventures, the cultural impact inside the Corporation is corrosive. “There’s a sense that the BBC has become a launchpad for personal brands rather than public service broadcasting,” one editor reflected.

The BBC’s Dilemma

From the Corporation’s perspective, the issue is thorny. On one hand, household names like Tess Daly and Vernon Kay are vital for ratings and public engagement. Strictly Come Dancing remains one of the BBC’s crown jewels, attracting millions of viewers every year. Without familiar and trusted hosts, the show might falter.

On the other hand, the optics of highly paid stars topping up their incomes with luxury deals undermine the BBC’s claim to be a fair and publicly accountable organisation. At a time when licence fee payers are scrutinising every penny – and when political pressure to reform or even abolish the fee grows louder – images of BBC talent enjoying lavish side gigs are not exactly helpful.

One former executive described the situation as “a PR time bomb.” “The public doesn’t want to feel their licence fee is indirectly funding someone’s designer wardrobe. And the staff inside the BBC don’t want to feel like second-class citizens keeping the machine running while others cream off the rewards.”

The Broader Context of Inequality

The frustration inside the BBC mirrors broader tensions in the media and entertainment industries. As the cost-of-living crisis deepens, ordinary workers are increasingly aware of – and vocal about – the lifestyle gap between themselves and the celebrities they support. Social media exacerbates this, with stars showcasing their homes, fashion, and perks to millions of followers.

For BBC employees who are contractually barred from most outside work, the contrast is especially stinging. “We can’t just take on commercial partnerships or sponsorships,” a production assistant explained. “If we did, we’d be disciplined. But if you’re a star presenter, apparently the rules don’t apply.”

Loyalty and Morale

The result is a slow but steady erosion of morale. Insiders say the BBC risks alienating its most committed staff – the people who ensure shows like Strictly happen smoothly every week. “You can’t build loyalty if people feel invisible and undervalued,” said one veteran producer. “The more we see of these perks and side deals, the harder it gets to believe in the BBC’s values.”

Some even warn that the resentment could impact programming. “If your team feels unappreciated and overworked, eventually the quality slips,” one insider predicted. “And then it won’t matter how famous your presenters are.”

Can the BBC Rebalance the Scales?

So what can the Corporation do? Some suggest stricter rules about outside work for top presenters, or at least greater transparency about commercial deals. Others argue the solution lies in addressing pay disparities for staff, ensuring that the behind-the-scenes workforce isn’t left struggling while presenters thrive.

“The BBC can’t afford to look like a two-tier system,” a former senior manager noted. “If you want to keep talented producers, editors, and researchers, you have to make them feel like they matter as much as the faces in front of the camera.”

For now, though, Tess Daly and Vernon Kay continue to shine in their dual roles: as beloved public broadcasters and savvy commercial operators. And for the many staffers watching from the sidelines, their success is as much a source of quiet pride as it is simmering frustration.

Because inside the BBC, the question is no longer whether star presenters deserve their pay – but whether the institution can survive if the gap between its stars and its staff keeps widening.