Congratulations, you've just reached the official Garry Bushell website. Bushell On The Box is now published every week in the Daily Star Sunday - but if that isn’t enough for you, read on.

Bushell On The Box

Bushell On The Box 2008

Feb 15. HE might look like Swamp Thing out of make-up, but Mickey Rourke livened up a dreary Bafta night. Rourke thanked his director for giving him the chance to shine “after I f***ed up my career for 15 years.” He didn’t mention the lousy bums who’d f***ed up his face. Still, Rourke’s raw, honest, heart-felt speech was a rare funny moment in an otherwise tedious ceremony. British films triumphed, but for TV viewers the Baftas were the biggest wash-out this side of the Yorkshire floods. There have been will readings with more pizzazz. Dull acceptance speeches, a bland dress code, Jonathan Ross’s neutered, tumbleweed-inducing script…Bafta night was the antidote to entertainment. Even weepy Winslet held back the tears. No wonder Brad and Angelina looked pissed off. We drag the world’s most glamorous and gifted movie stars to Covent Garden and put them through a three hour snooze-athon.

Worse, we subject them to Claudia Winkleman. It’s bad enough that she’s basing her career on becoming the BBC’s Davina, but Winkleman’s behaviour on the red carpet would have shamed a Big Brother wannabe. She told Kate Winslet: “I want to lick your shoulder”. And Penelope Cruz: “I’d like to smell your hair.” You’re 37, love. Grow up! Outside of Dick and Dom, TV doesn’t get much more dumbed down than this.

The gulf between the Bafta stiffs and Joe Public doesn’t get any narrower either. The snobs snubbed the wildly popular Mama Mia!, and gave box office sensation The Dark Knight just one measly posthumous gong for Heath Ledger. On the plus side, it was great to see new British film-makers take home metal; and cheering to see Slumdog Millionaire kick Benjamin Button’s over-rated butt across the card. But the night would be so much better if the organisers would only lighten up – and ask Billy Crystal to host.

* FASHION notes: Kate Winslet appeared to have Batman’s ears over her golden globes; while the yellow stripe down Angelina’s black dress made her look like a no parking zone. Many men would love to get clamped in it… As for Jonathan Pryce, someone tell him the Doctor Who auditions are over.

* MICKEY Rourke beat his wife – normally a career-ending crime. Why is he accepted by the culturati? Could it be that the money he gave to the IRA trumps the sin of domestic violence in the eyes of the hypocritical liberal elite? Chris Brown had better invest in a PLO t-shirt.

* ON EastEnders, Garry Hobbs drove to Dover and may have jumped off a cliff. What terrible news. There were three empty seats in that car; at a squeeze he could have taken Heather with him. It was Hefty’s turn to play victim last week: poor tubby bird can’t get a date, aren’t men bastards etc. Do you feel for her? Or do you feel like shaking her and saying: “Lose some weight, you fat, lazy, greedy cow”? Or at least get thee to a chubby-chasers website… Heather would have turned Barry White into reverend Al Green. Lardy, dull, staggeringly dim…she’s a cheese-obsessed, George Michael-stalking moron, with a yoghurt pot-lid for a lucky charm. (Give me strength.) This soap seems to be entirely aimed at 12-year-old girls these days. It’s certainly written by people with little experience of life and no experience whatsoever of Cockneys. Yet get this: the Beeb boasts its writers come from an “academy of excellence”. That’s neat, that is. That’s worthy of Orwell.

* SONGS George could have sung to Hefty: ‘Careless Whopper,’ ‘I Want Your Snacks’, ‘You’ve Gotta Have Cakes’, ‘I Knew You Were Weighty’…

* THE real reason Ricky hesitated over that paternity test? He realised that one day sweet, loveable Tiff will leave home; he could be stuck with Bianca forever.

* JOHN ‘Biffo’ Bindon was the original stallion of the South. The hood’s manhood was legendary. Peggy Mitchell could have kipped in his condoms. But did the well-endowed villain give Princess Margaret a king-sized portion? C4 spent an hour not telling us. Bindon was a funny bloke, when he wasn’t beating you up. “Even she would have been taken aback with pleasure,” confided one socialite. Yes, but did he take her from the front as well? Biffo’s mates said no; his ex, Vicki Hodge thought yes. There was a hint that MI5 fixed his murder trial to swerve a scandal; but no proof. This wasn’t a royal documentary. It was antique gossip; what Londoner John would have called a proper Richard The Third…

* JOHN had 12inches. Did that make him a royal footman?

HOT on TV: Mad Men …Whitechapel…Free Agents…Saturday Night Takeaway…and Noel’s extraordinary campaign for Royal Marine Joe Townsend (Noel’s HQ) – good on ya, Edmonds, and shame on Wealden council.

ROT on TV: Heather’s yoghurt lid of love (EastEnders) – well, you’d have to be Mullered…lazy Piers Morgan documentaries – they’re worth less than a banker’s apology…Rehab (Living) – no, no, no…and Minder – the only thing this owes to George Cole and Dennis Waterman is an apology.

* THE biggest mystery on TV, more puzzling even than Ricky Butcher’s Walford winter tan: where have all the Bengalis gone in Whitechapel?

* MEMO to Emmerdale: in the event of flooding, an old Mandy Dingle bra can be used as a floatation device.

* TV viewing can cause erectile dysfunction, say doctors. Especially if you’re watching Loose Women.

* SEPARATED at birth: Hurley from Lost and Ralph the Muppets dog…one a cloth-brained nuisance, the other one a TV puppet.

* SMALL joys of TV: January Jones “tackled up” (Mad Men). Mick Jagger at Bafta. Tony describing Julie as “flakier than a custard slice” (Corrie). Bianca ordering chicken tikka and nan bread in the Argy-Bhaji and getting served pilau rice and what looked like a dollop of dogs muck. Was it the script?

* RANDOM irritations: PC edits in old Minders. Clown-faced loser Minty (Enders). And Jonathan Ross’s flat, witless Bafta script. Any less funny, and he’d get a BBC1 sitcom. What’s the point of hiring Ross and not letting him do his thing?

Feb 8. ARTHUR Daley pulled some strokes in his time, but the old rascal would surely tip his Trilby to Channel 5. They’ve only gone and ripped off Minder. And like most of the gear in Arthur’s lock-up, it’s Jekyll, my friends – Jekyll and Hyde, schnide – as genuine as ‘cello scrotum’ and absolutely pony. The new Minder is a third-rate knock-off of one of the greatest TV shows ever made. It resembles the original like a £30 Rolex does. If you never saw the real thing, then maybe this series is passable in a sub-Lock, Stock kind of way. But for Minder fans, it’s a miscast, underwritten travesty. Shane Richie and Lex Shrapnel are as close to Arthur and Terry as Ant & Dec would be to The Sweeney.

George Cole is a wonderful subtle actor, capable of conveying an array of moods with his expressions alone. Cole made devious Arthur the Jeffrey Archer of the car-lot; Shane’s Archie Daley is more like Alfie Moon in a three-piece whistle. Telly tough-guy Dennis Waterman revelled in the fight scenes; his brother Peter was a pro-boxer, he made them seem real. Suffolk boy Lex looks more like he’s getting over piles than a stretch for GBH. He’s certainly not “a big lump” as Petra calls him; he doesn’t even try to sound like a Londoner. The middle class female cop isn’t a patch on Charlie Chisholm. The dialogue relies too heavily on mangled-up phrases. And the humour is either slapstick or daft – Archie feebly pretending to be a ghost.

The original Minder, created by Leon Griffiths, was firmly rooted in Fulham’s shady underworld of wheeler-dealers and dodgy geezers. The shifty characters were recognisable, the slang authentic. This was an oasis of duckers and divers, “drinks” and nice little earners. It was very much of its time. The new Minder doesn’t bother much with lingo. There’s no new slang, and no real acknowledgement that the world has moved on. Today’s Daleys would be involved in VAT scams, Viagra and time share flats in Bulgaria, not second-hand tellies. Show one saw Archie brokering a deal for property developers and a corrupt (Northern) politician in Bermondsey. Gawd knows why. If you’d liked Shane as Alfie, you’ll probably like this. It’s just a shame they’ve called it Minder.

* OLD Guys is as funny as hypothermia. It’s from the team behind Peep Show – BBC1 clearly wanted to inject some of that edginess into mainstream comedy. But the result is flatter than Todd Carty after thirty seconds on the ice. The characters don’t act or talk like anyone you’ve ever known. It’s pitiful drivel. Not Going Out tries harder. It crams in gags at every turn, but the characters are lamer than a one-legged lama. The ‘com’ can’t work if we can’t relate to the ‘sit’. BBC1 has forgotten that great comedy is marinated in reality. Classic sitcoms skate close to tragedy; their laughs are fired by class, snobbery and embarrassment – genuine human frailties. Thwarted romantic Harold Steptoe, deluded David Brent, pompous Captain Mainwaring, raging Basil Fawlty – people like this existed. They still do. There’s no connection with anything recognisably human in Life of Riley. Isn’t it time BBC comedy got back to reality?

* I’M looking forward to the Spain v England game on ITV. There’s bound to be loads of great adverts.

* RANDOM irritations: Clarkson apologising – wimp. Will Young on Question Time (his career is on borrowed time). People getting rewarded for failure – bankers, politicians, Piers Morgan. BBC1 News’ biased strike coverage, editing quotes to make the workers look bigoted. And Dreary Dani on EastEnders – tell her, you dozy cow!

* HOW the snow hit TV: this week’s Ice Road Truckers was filmed in Carshalton… Relocation, Relocation investigated igloos… the dancers on televisionX were using de-icer on their poles… Ulrika had another “good eight inches” overnight.

HOT on TV: Ross Kemp, Return To Afghanistan (Sky1)…Kara DioGuardi (American Idol)… Phil Davis (Whitechapel)… Moses Jones… Dexter… and Battlestar Gallactica – grips like Susie Lipanova trying to keep Todd upright.

ROT on TV: Old Guys – old cobblers…No Signal – no laughs… Boys & Girls Alone – child abuse… Gangrene Green Grass… Geoff ‘Buff’ Hoon… and The One Show – any programme that gives Jo Brand air time is beyond saving. Even her cellulite spells ‘dreary s***e’ in Braille.

* ARCHIE and Peggy will wed on EastEnders. He had to go down on one knee just to look her in the eye.

* KEN Barlow gets closer to barge beauty Martha on Corrie. He’ll have to make big decisions soon. Like will he demand canal sex? Or will he be happy just to sit on her boat?

* JANICE Battersby, nurse? Isn’t that like Robert Peston, clown? Or Lizzie Cundy, TV presenter?

* WOULD have reviewed Horizon on cannabis, but was too stoned. Little Weed, the News At Ten bongs and the Lotto draw all take their toll…

* IN Arizona, viewing of the final minutes of the Superbowl was interrupted by a porn broadcast. Apparently it was a thrilling climax. And the end of the game wasn’t bad either.

* AFTER the Carol Thatcher row, I’d better confess I once compared Janet Street-Porter to Muffin The Mule. I accept now that this was in poor taste and offensive. I apologise unreservedly to Muffin.

* NO Signal is a lame send-up of multi-channel TV. Genuine channels are often much funnier. Channel 200 has more mad conspiracies than David Icke. Everything from 9/11 to Big Brother’s ‘Golden Ticket’ contest is exposed by lunatics. While on 885, a tarot-reading “psychic” told a woman caller her relationship was doomed – they’ve missed a trick, they should be selling ad space to divorce lawyers.

* SUZIE ‘Golden Ticket’ Verrico is doing nude shots now. If she’s a natural blonde, we’ll get to see her golden thicket.

* SMALL joys of TV: Funeral archivist Di Stiff (Who Do You Think You Are?). Buddy Holly Night (BBC4). Steve Pemberton on Whitechapel. Chris Cohen’s ‘Britain Has Gone Bonkers’ song (Noel’s HQ). Phil ‘The Power’ Taylor on Corrie. And Shameless nurse Maxine bringing new meaning to the NHS: normally humping someone.

Feb 1. IT was classic Gordon Ramsay: two restaurants driven to near-ruin by the tunnel vision of their nitwit owners. Bistro boss Nick Martin was more set in his ways than a concrete road-sign. His Devon eaterie was a trippy nightmare, with migraine-inducing psychedelic wallpaper and inedible grub. His alphabet soup spelt out ‘HELP’. Nick served up duck in orange squash and vacuum-packed lamb shanks preserved in more Es than a 1980s rave. A far cry from the “fresh local food” promised by the menu. He treated his customers like gods, though; every meal a burnt offering.

Nick had already lost the four-bedroom family home to subsidise his dream, but he lorded it over his wife and daughter with the lofty disdain of a state-subsidised banker. The bloke was so pig-headed it was a wonder Jamie didn’t try and save his bacon. And Justin in Sheffield wasn’t much better. His tapas bar/nightclub was as authentically Spanish as the river Liffey. Stubborn Justin was more interested in the bands he booked than the nosh, which Gordon summed up as “bland, stale and packed with ****ing grease.” The duck looked “like a can of Kit-E-Kat.” This blunt appraisal shamed Justin’s chef Richie into a Ramsay-like rage. But could Gordon save them? True to form, he put local back on the menu, using well-cooked, neighbourhood food to stand-out from the bland high-street chains. Out went the music, the microwave, the mock Spanish menu and the dark club decor. In came satisfied customers.

In Oakhampton, Gordon put wife Mo in charge of finances, removed Noxious Nick from the kitchen and gave his daughter a go (not in the usual Ramsay sense). His magic made an immediate difference, but once Gordon left both places started going to pot again. Some people are beyond saving. Take Channel 4, for example. What a shame there isn’t a TV equivalent of Ramsay who could sort out their stale menu of property shows, smart arse documentaries and cookery. I enjoy Ramsay’s Great British Nightmare but do we really want two ruddy hours of it on a Friday night? He’s not exactly Peter Kay. How about brightening up those flagging schedules with some locally sourced entertainment?

* RAMSAY’S greatest British nightmare? Another kiss ’n’ tell girl.

* BBC2’s Culture Show had a Burns Night special. Will they do the same for St George? 330,000+ have joined a St George’s Day facebook group since Xmas. How long will the BBC ignore or distort English culture?

* OH my god, she’s thrilled Kenny! Soap legend Stephanie Beacham plays jobbing actress Martha on Corrie – and all it took for her to excite Ken Barlow was a bowl of soup and a quick reference to Titus Andronicus (not to be confused with Norris, he’s Titus A-gnat’s-arse.) Will Ken succumb? Does Jordan sleep on her back? Even at 97, he is the lurv machine of Weatherfield, with at least five marriages (three of ’em to Dreary) and three decades of affairs to his name. Librarians, journalists, exotic dancers…no woman can resist his charms. Martha should move fast though - Ken is at that awkward age between wandering eye and wandering off. Of course, the first thing she’ll need to do, when she gets him naked in the bedroom, is to dust him off.

* MARTHA served up Earl Grey on her barge. Deirdre is more tea-bag and tug-boat.

* MIKE the hospital patient died before he could date Janice Battersby. Doctors are treating it as a lucky escape.

* ON Lost, the tropical island is now “dislodged from time”, so the castaways keep skipping between the past and the future. Hasn’t Noel Edmonds beaten them to it? He looks the same age now on Noel’s HQ as he did on House Party; he’s just got a little travel cranky. Evangeline Lilly alone makes Lost must-see TV, but the pace has perked up as the writers head for a proper ending next summer. For most of series three, they seemed to be making it up as they went along, with the aid of mescaline. Let’s hope they remember to explain what the deal was with that polar bear, and the big stomping monster from season one, and how Hurley managed to stay the size of Bikini Atoll through-out.

* PEOPLE stranded, desperate, and out of touch with reality…but enough about government ministers on Newsnight.

* BEING lost on an island was a terrifying nightmare when this show started. But with war, recession and the dole it suddenly seems like paradise.

HOT on TV: Being Human – That’s Life meets the afterlife…Generation Kill (FX)…Jade Ewen…Stephanie Beacham (Corrie) …Jamie Saves Our Bacon…Boston Legal (Living)… and Lost (Sky1) – it’s found its way again.

ROT on TV: Paris Hilton’s British Best Friend – Obama bans torture and ITV2 get Paris; coincidence?...Not Going Out – not staying in for this…the man-bashing Glade ad…and Four Poofs & A Piano – this joke ain’t funny any more (in fact it never was...)

* SEPARATED at birth: Watchme TV psychic Demian (corr) Allan and Timothy Claypole? One a clueless joker with a comical lack of knowledge about the modern world, the other a character in Rentaghost.

* RUNNER-up: Chelsy Davy and the young Sharon Watts.

* WHAT next for ‘Piers Morgan On…’? How about, fire?

* ON Being Human, the vampire had to fix up their house after George the werewolf’s “time of the month.” The technical name for this? Fang Shui.

* SMALL joys of TV: Todd Carty careening clean off the rink (Dancing On Ice) – flippin’ ’eck, Tucker! Julie Walters turning into Mrs Overall. And Robert Vaughn’s teeth (Hustle) – is it his turn to use BBC wardrobe’s dodgy dentures? They must be the pair Dick Emery’s vicar wore, passed down via Dennis Waterman on New Tricks.

* RANDOM irritations: Ray Quinn – oily git. The nude Masoods (Enders) – make it stop (or make it Shabs). The telepathic baby (Shameless); so much for reality. And Gok Wan Too Fat Too Young. You forgot “too over-exposed”, girlfriend.

* TOO Fat, Too Young: not just Gok’s show, it’s also the name of his cousin.

Jan 25. ULRIKA won Celebrity Big Brother. How did that happen? Did everyone just assume Verne would walk it and not bother to vote? Or did that truly repulsive doll kissing incident scupper his chances? Either way, Ully was the first winner ever to get booed by the crowd. So who voted for her? Women, obviously. The TV audience was largely female; and if we factor in all her ex boyfriends that makes for a substantial fan-base. But let’s not rain on Ulrika’s parade. She’s been through a lot in her life. Mainly husbands. And she excelled as a weathergirl, coming up with my all-time favourite goof: “I had a good eight inches last night.” (Talking about snowfall, for a change). She deserves her Swede success.

I just can’t figure out why.

Even Davina called her “the most unwilling housemate ever.” Ully was generally frustrating; bossy and aloof. Without doubt her finest moment was the ‘Endless Love’ duet with Verne. What else did she do? Tina Malone was falling off sofas, chewing her toes and talking disturbingly about fanny batter. Coolio wound up a few saps and got choked up over Obama’s inauguration (quite right, the Yanks haven’t been this happy since they invented the McRib). Ulrika nagged people, full stop. Let’s just hope no one sees it as a green light to bring back her lousy, flop comedy show It’s Ulrika.

The highlights of this series were mostly Verne’s. There was the duet with Ully, the drunken chatting up of La Toya, the crashing of his mobility scooter into the diary room door… And let’s not forget the Shrek remark and the electrocution task. But can C4 now please stop booking bores and non-celebs? Ben might be a nice guy but if he’d been on life support in a coma ward, doctors would have switched him off by now. Tommy Sheridan brought one thing to the house: hair. Did you see him with his shirt off? It looked like a scene from Gorillas In The Mist. La Toya wanted to take him home to mate with Bubbles.

* THINGS we’ve learnt from Celeb Big Brother. 1) Little people are funny. 2) Legless little people are even funnier. 3) Sexism and racism are to be avoided but it’s perfectly OK to patronise midgets.

* TOP 3 BB anagrams: 1) Michelle Heaton: HELLO, I CHEAT MEN. 2) Terry Christian: AN ITCHY STIRRER 3) Lucy Pinder: ICY PLUNDER. List Courtesy of Richard Napier, writer of the great new anagram book My Gonads Roar.

* VANITY, rivalry, jealousy, ego…Come Dine With Me is soap with serviettes; a reality show cast by an evil genius. Last week’s grotesque contestants were worthy of a Mike Leigh play. Snobby Val looked like Alan Carr in drag and talked in the deep voice of the demonically possessed. Her upper lip was as frozen as an ice-rink, her neck was permanently cricked. She probably douches with vinegar. Val was a pretentious, dry old bird; much like the pheasant she served up. But spoilt brat Bernard (“Preston’s Mr Carpet”) was worse. The devil’s own dinner guest, he yawned rudely while chatty beautician Dawn spoke, and told her: “I’m bored with listening to you now.” Later he complained: “She doesn’t know anything about me.” (Why would she want to?) To make it sweeter, Bernard’s Caribbean cooking was a real jerk-off. You wouldn’t test his grub on lab rats.

* BERNARD owns a carpet shot, but I bet he doesn’t get much call for deep shag. I’m amazed he can even get his under-felt.

* IT was a week of hope and expectation as we waited to see how one man would cope with the spotlight’s glare. Thankfully Jonathan Ross didn’t let us down. He’s still a wude and vulgar wascal. My big fear was that the fall-out from Sachs-a-phone (© Frank Skinner) would mean a BBC joke censor lurking in the wings with the demeanour of a pox doctor’s clerk. Jon can work clean but do we want him to? Cheek and sauce is what he does. It’s after ten, let him be rude as he likes. What we don’t want is the vagueness and laziness. We want him to do his research and give us proper gags, not chit-chat about his kids’ pets and his latest Japanese toys. If I was running the Beeb he’d be on every weekday night. With no pay rise of course.

* JR on Tom Cruise coming to London: “To make him feel at home, the pilot landed on the Thames.”

HOT on TV: 24 – more twists than Quasimodo’s braces…Kelly Adams (Hustle)… Battlestar Galactica (Sky1)…Noel’s HQ (Sky1)…tattooed beauty Emily Hughes (American Idol).

ROT on TV: The Life of Riley – the death of comedy…Jacques Peretti – his voice is even duller than his programmes...Demons – wetter than Randy Jackson’s sweat patches on America Idol.

* SEPARATED at birth Marissa on EastEnders and Feargal Sharkey? One sang Teenage Kicks, the other charges for them…

* HAS there ever been a less happy hooker than Marissa? Never has the phrase “good time girl” seemed less apt. How desperate would you have to be to pay for grumpy-pumpy with this miserable bint?

* MARISSA told Jay: “When I look at you, I see a pig’s head covered in flies.” I’d give the mushrooms a rest, love.

* POOR Jean Slater’s in a nut-house now. When she finds out, she’ll go ****ing mental.

* CORRIE’s Graham has become a poet after falling for Fiz (no rhyme there, no reason either). Channelling the spirit of Gus Smith (soap’s poet wally-ate) he recited an ode to her flaming hair. It was flaming cobblers. Graham’s first love was Marina from Stingray. How pointless, fantasising about a puppet. Marina was wooden. She couldn’t speak. And she would never have cheated on Troy Tempest.

* JOANNA Trollope was a guest on Loose Women. As if they need another trollop on that panel…

* RANDOM irritations: Jade Goody’s latest televised agony - those ghouls at Living won’t be satisfied until they film her dying. Carla Romano. And the on-going absence of Kim Tiddy from our screens. The Bill’s not the same without Honey Harman, Sunhill’s sexiest plod. Sign her up, Emmerdale! Keep Britain Tiddy!

* SMALL joys of TV: those Virgin advert flight attendants. Drunken Verne chatting up La Toya. Effy (Skins) – effing lovely, says my son. Total Wipe-Out. And Aretha Franklin’s hat at Obama’s inauguration; in the event of rain, thirty people could have sheltered in it.

Jan 18. MEMO to TV bosses: keep Michelle Heaton away from all awards ceremonies. The woman is wetter than Winslet at the Golden Globes. Weeping and a-wailing over Coolio’s mild jibes, Heaton’s Big Blubber act sapped the life out of Celebrity Big Brother. Gawd, she is a poor booking, nearly as dull as pretty boy Ben who she so obviously fancies. And Mutya wasn’t much better. Even her walk-out was naff. At least chain-smoking Tina, for all her faults, was riveting. You never knew what horror she’d come up with next. When she wasn’t picking at herself, chewing her toes or squeezing spots, she was regaling housemates with tales of her vomiting and other bodily functions. On Wednesday, gloriously, she fell off the sofa while talking about her fanny, stoking suspicions that she’s Humpty-Dumpty in drag. With more natural gas than Russia and more ego than a supermodel convention, Tina is the type of person who motors through life with the horn stuck. The only let-down was she took two weeks to square up to Coolio.

If it weren’t for these two, this series would have been flatter than Tara Palmer-Tompkinson. Although Verne came in to his own with his hilarious drink-driving on Friday. He must have had too many shorts. Instead of raiding the dressing-up box to liven up the show, Big Bro should be parachuting in extra celebs: Nancy Dell'Olio to wind up Ulrika, punk legend Stinky Turner to clash with tepid Tommy… Lesley Joseph from Celeb Come Dine With Me would improve the house no end: a) she’s nuts, b) she’s the world’s worst cook, c) she had the hots for Rodney Marsh, and d) she was wearing a giant sweet wrapper.

No-one here has surprised us. Least of all Ulrika, who unless she teeters into a nervous breakdown, has done nothing to justify her £175K fee. Some joker likened her to Barrymore in 2006, failing to distinguish between a disgraced entertainer with a burning need to reinvent himself and a clapped-out weathergirl who put it about a bit. The only surprise is that C4 thought she’d be worth the money.

* SHOULD Michelle Heaton be sponsored by Kleenex? Only if she cries less and strips off more…

* IMAGINE if Jack Bauer reacted to stress like Michelle. By now he’d have comfort eaten to 30 stone and drowned in his own tears.

* PEGGY Mitchell is right. There’s no call for a massage parlour in EastEnders. I mean, who’d pay for a go on Rosa when Walford women give it away for free? Roxy, Stacey, Danielle…they’re anyone’s for a bag of chips. Peggy’s protest might have made sense if prostitution wasn’t such an established local tradition. Her best mate Fat Pat ran a brothel; her step-daughter Janine was on the game…Suzy might as well have been. Then there was Mary the Punk, Kelly Taylor, Donna Ludlow and very nearly Zoe Slater who threw up over her first punter… I don’t know why Dawn doesn’t get in on the act. That girl is sitting on a fortune.

* ROSA is like a Bratz doll: young, badly dressed and available for £20.

* KELLY Brook is the latest judge on Britain’s Got Talent. Why? What does she know about entertainers? At least Amanda’s slept with a few. This show needs decent semi-pro acts to wow us and experienced judges who understand showbiz to appreciate them. Puffed-up nobody Piers Morgan wouldn’t know talent if it sawed his fat head off.

* TERRY Alderton, Ricky Grover, Micky Flanagan, Jerry Sadowitz…just four great contemporary comics who’ve never been on Live At The Apollo. Yet Jo Brand has been on three times in four series with her dreary man-hating garbage. Dara too. Even Rich Hall has been on twice. At best BBC1’s booking policy is lazy and unimaginative; at worst it’s censorious and controlling. Why did Russell Kane, whose routine was more like a therapy session, get a prestige slot when Mick Miller can’t? Ageism is only part of the problem, but class matter more. Public school rebel Marcus Brigstocke gets plenty of exposure, cuddly Kent comic Dave Lee is never on screen. But opinions are a factor too. If you’re blue-collar, over-50 and don’t subscribe to the usual Corporation-approved limp-dick right-on views you won’t get a break. No matter how funny you are. We all pay the licence fee, so why is BBC comedy a closed shop? Why aren’t all tastes catered for?

HOT on TV: Derren Brown – dazzling…24 (Sky1) – Jack back on track…Sarah Silverman on Monk (Hallmark)… Plus One…and Metallica, Some Kind Of Monster – Spinal Tap, eat your heart out.

ROT on TV: ‘celebrity’ Amy Lamé – world famous in her local pie shop…Green Green Grass – thin, lame farce…Wild At Heart – weak in the head…Andi Peters (Golden Globes)…Tyrone’s wedding… and Your Country Needs You – your telly doesn’t.

* DUMBLY hiding the cross in church isn’t the worst of Corrie’s worries. They’ve clearly mislaid the plot as well. Tyrone’s wedding fiasco was badly contrived and feebly written, with poor jokes like Kirk saying “I’ve had a microwave, I mean brainwave.” Dear oh dear. When did he turn into Honey Mitchell?

* EXPECT Corrie to hide the crucifix when Becky gets wed. It’d be a bit insensitive considering the number of times she’s been nailed.

* PAUL Ross spent the week on Most Haunted. Why? Wasn’t working with Lesley Joseph on Come Dine With Me scary enough?

* SMALL joys of TV: Dave Lamb’s voice-over (Come Dine With Me). Early Doors re-runs (BBC4). Roy Walker in the Churchill ads. And Todd Carty – Tottering On Ice; he’s the John Sergeant of pro-celebrity ice skating. If it wasn’t for Suzy keeping him on the rink, he’d have ended up in Wild At Heart.

* SEPARATED at birth: Mackenzie Crook and Ellen DeGeneres? One an icon for hairy-legged beasts – the other an actor in Demons…

* TOP Telly Anagrams: 1) Seemly Ankles (Myleene Klass) 2) I Love A Groan (Eva Longoria) 3) My Gonads Roar (Gordon Ramsay) 4) Chills A Boner (Rachel Bilson) 5) Comely Tits (Emily Scott) – list courtesy of Richard Napier’s great new anagram book My Gonads Roar.

January 11. THE Shrek remark, Coolio scrubbing Terry Christian’s back, Ulrika and Verne crucifying Everlasting Love… Celebrity Big Brother has already served up some classic TV moments. It’s just a shame about the hours in-between…

Funniest so far was Tina Malone’s loudly stated belief that “everybody wants to f*** me.” On what desert island with no hope of escape would that be, love? Ten-Ton Tina has also mentioned her “great arse” and “great fanny,” and let slip that she is “hugely intellectual.” No word yet on her numerous awards for modesty. Or her dress sense. Has she come in character as Mimi from Shameless or are those her actual clothes? In the delusion stakes, only Tommy Sheridan comes close. Incredibly, the balding, middle-aged, Dad-dancing berk was serious when he suggested that Big Bro might try and make it look like he and Michelle Heaton were an item. I’ve warned to Thandie Newton stay away from me for the same reason.

Terry Christian is emerging well out of all this (shame). Possibly because for the first time in his life, he’s with people (Tina, Coolio) who out-talk him – I once shared a train journey with Tel and nearly enjoyed his monologue. He’s smart enough to play the game and will surely make the final, along with Verne and Michelle. But sadly not Coolio. He’s rattled the women with his wind-ups, his “crazy ass” life stories, kitchen take-over and his flatulence. Coolio has “the heart, liver and kidney of a 25-year-old” coupled with the arse of Jim Royle. He’s hit on every woman in there so far, including Loopy La Toya – even Tommy’s eyes glazed over when she started banging on about alien life (her family?). The others are underwhelming. Mutya may dress like the next victim in a Lynda La Plant crime drama, but so far has brought less to the party than a gate-crashing Frank Gallagher. First-out Lucy was far too laid-back and covered up. Ulrika claims to be “close to blowing” – which is precisely why C4 are paying her £175K. Ben is obviously popular with his housemates but might as well be lobotomised for all the contribution we’ve seen him make.

* THE funniest coupling possible? Tina and Verne. Course, he’d have to tie his foot to the bed-post to avoid falling in.

* MURDERED hookers, ‘sexist’ cops, glamorous women detectives…it could only be another Lynda La Potty crime shocker. Above Suspicion ticked all the usual murder mystery boxes, except, crucially some might feel, the mystery. There was no twist, no red herrings. The prime suspect dunnit. But we had to endure maggoty corpses, the equally rancid script and a screen full of cardboard characters to get to the point: women cops rule OK. Glam rookie Anna (Kelly Reilly looking bored) may seem like a leggy model, totter about in heels and throw up at autopsies but by golly, she’ll get the bad guy to crack. It’s a nice liberal fantasy. TV gives us Jane Tennison and hopes we’ll forget that reality served up Cressida Dick.

* EASE off Jonathan Ross! His show hasn’t started and already prigs, bores and busy-bodies are trying to police his jokes. What rot. JR needs to keep the blue gags, and lose the brown nose.

* TIPS for C4: Many former brokers and bankers are now relocating-relocating to highly desirable West End skips, doorways and cardboard boxes. On the plus side, plenty of empty estate agent offices are up for grabs in our dying high streets.

* IN a ground-breaking documentary, Claire Sweeney discovered that eating rubbish grub makes you fat. Nice going, Einstein. In reverse order here are the worst foods you can eat for your health: 3) sugar 2) anything deep-fried 1) wedding cake in Walford.

* NEW at Walford Book Club: Gone With The Winnings (Nasty Nick), The Good Masood Guide, Who Moved My Cheese (Heather), Danielle Jones’ Diary (latest entry: Found mum, kept schtum; had one-night-stand, got knocked up, ran away. Bit of a drip ain’t I?) Book Club favourites: Back Passage To India (Dr Fonseca), The Hoarse Whisperer (Phil), The Di Marco Code, 1984 (the last year the soap made sense – and it launched in ’85.).

* MORE gritty realism on EastEnders, where courts have night sessions, minors are allowed in to hearings, and the victim is allowed to visit the alleged perpetrator at will…

HOT on TV: Hustle – as likely as a UFO-damaged wind turbine but pure escapist fun…Dexter…Jason Durr (Above Suspicion)…and Ross Kemp On Gangs.

ROT on TV: Demons – Ted ‘The Count’ Hankey is scarier…Green Green Grass – pitiful…Life of Riley – BBC1’s comedy cupboard is now officially as bare as the shelves of Woolworths… Waterloo Road – there are safer schools in Gaza… and My Big Fat Diet – supersize ITV; biggest waste of film since Heather Trott’s wedding photos.

* SO Martin Shaw has a purple-headed stalker. No wonder he’s such a hit with old ladies.

* LIZ McDonald hid behind a chair on Corrie; old, leathery and well-used…and the chair was just as bad.

* HOW could Lloyd call Liz “a bit of tail.” Tsk. She’s a tail of three cities, mate: half of Manchester, a touch of Belfast and a large portion of Liverpool.

* SEPARATED at birth: Coolio and Foghorn Leghorn? Runner-up: Martin Freeman and a mole.

* RANDOM irritations: BBC2 devoting thirty minutes to Motown’s fiftieth anniversary and 90 minutes to a sea-food chef. The dim, repetitive script on Total Wipeout. Jack Whitehall. And Mad Jean’s voice (Enders) - why does it get posher as she gets angrier?

* SMALL joys of TV: Bill Bailey (Hustle). Greedy guts Gregg Wallace (Masterchef) and the Stonecutters Song (The Simpsons) – “who leaves Atlantis off the maps/Who keeps the Martians under wraps…we do! We do!”

* MYSTERIES: Michael, La Toya…did the Jackson family buy a job-lot of those trick noses? Why is One Minute Wonders on for thirty? How much did Jonathan Maitland get paid to Live Without Money? And re Janine Butcher’s stuffed cat, did someone tell her to leave some money in the kitty?

*JAN 3, 2009. IT was the year of economic meltdown, answer machine madness and John Sergeant, the Lard of the Dance. Nature programmes sparkled, with terrific footage of Titus the gorilla. Many viewers were moved to tears by the sight of a dumb, primitive creature struggling to keep control of their pitiful existence. But enough about Kerry Katona on This Morning… To find out who was hot and rot in 2008, here are the only Baftas that matter – the Bushell Awards for Telly Achievement.

Fraud of the Year: The Pregnant Man. It wasn’t a man. It was a bird with no boobs. Or to use the scientific term, a Trinny.

Most Over-exposed Buffoon: John Barrowman. Even when you switch off your set his face is still on it.

Best New Drama: Mad Men. 1960, and for New York ad-men the world was “like one big brassiere strap waiting to be snapped.”

Best drama: The Sopranos and The Wire (also saddest farewells). Runners-up: Spooks, Brotherhood, He Kills Coppers, Boston Legal.

Worst Drama: Bonekickers. Runner-up: Rock Rivals.

Best Sitcom: Gavin & Stacey. Runners-up: Benidorm, Moving Wallpaper, Outnumbered, 30Rock. Worst Sitcom: Coming Of Age. Runners-up: Clone, Lab Rats – science affliction. Hardest TV comic: Frankie Boyle. Worst alleged comic: Keith Lemon – what a plum. Emperor’s New Clothes award: Little Britain USA. Undisputed King of TV Comedy: Harry Hill.

Top Bitch: hard-faced lantern-jawed Jenny Celerier (The Apprentice).

Top reality show: The Apprentice. Worst: Celeb Air – Terminal Bore. Top Reality Contender: Lee McQueen (The Apprentice). Worst: camel-faced psychopath Alexandra (BB9)

Karen Matthews Soap Mum Of The Year Award: Jackie Dobbs (Corrie). Runner-up: Teresa Morton. Worst soap plot: Minty and Heather’s marriage (EastEnders). Runner-up: Alex/Ryan mix-up (Corrie). Maddest soap story: Max the Mekon buried alive (Enders). Runner-up: Rosie Webster held hostage for no apparent reason (Corrie). Top soap actor: Perry Fenwick. Best soap character: Becky (Corrie). Top soap newcomer: Archie Mitchell. Worst: Christian (Enders) – he over-acts, over-laughs, gurns and whinnies like a horse. Top soap villain: Mad Dr May (Enders). Top soap: Hollyoaks.

Worst yoof TV: Phoo Action – so bad it induced an allergic reaction: Phoo Cough.

Sexiest sci-fi star: Tricia Helfer. Top sci-fi booking: Davina (Dead Set). Worst: Catherine Tate (Doctor Who).

Biggest Let-down: Ashes To Ashes.

Top new actress: January Jones (Mad Men); Georgia Moffett (Doctor Who)

Worst Documentary: Sex-Change Soldier – traumatic dress disorder…

Top TV Names: US colon specialist, Anil Ram. Rachel Fuchs, sex therapist. US Olympic reserve Destinee Hooker (Janine Butcher’s childhood nickname…).

Top Lookalike: Tony, ’Enders paedo, and Cartoon Head (Ideal).

Top sex scandal: Max Mosley. His private life became a boon for comedians – this wasn’t just sex, it was S&M; sex. Daftest news story: the men’s pants row – Paxman came out swinging.

Best chat: Graham Norton. Worst: Lily Allen. Maddest catchphrase: “Bring on the wall!” – Dale Winton. Worst catchphrase: “Don’t mess with me, I’m an archaeologist” – Bonekickers. Maddest TV Moment: Bonkers Britain (Noel’s HQ)

Worst presenter in a packed field: Zezi Ifore.

Top irritant: BBC business bod Robert Peston, the Dalek-voiced harbinger of doom. Top Hypocrite: John Prescott driving around in his jag or relaxing in his mansion after ten years in power and moaning about how he’d been held back by class system.

TV Event of the Year: The Olympics. TV Non-event: Big Brother Celebrity Hi-jack Woman of the Year: Rebecca Addlington. Man of the Year: Gene Hunt. Book of the Year: Kill Your Friends, by John Niven. Film of the Year: The Dark Knight. CD of the Year (US): Come All You Madmen, The Briggs. (UK) Glasvegas: Glasvegas. Top live band: Tommy Schitt & The Punishment F***ers. Top Website: Spiked-online.com.

Star of the Year: Michael McIntyre.

* IRRITATIONS of 2008: BBC1’s baffling belief that we want to “see it in” with no-talent Nick Knowles. BBC2’s patronising White season. ‘Colour-blind’ casting turning sixth century England into a United Colours of Beniton ad. Cross-eyed pillock Evan Davies. Ludicrous TV ‘psychic’ shows – give up the ghost! Bex’ Shiner, Big Brother’s squawking nuisance, continuing to get TV bookings. Why? Her face doesn’t fit anywhere. Look at the size of it.

* JOYS of 2008: Lee McQueen’s reverse pterodactyl (The Apprentice). Beer fairies (The Wrong Door). The Eels song (Mighty Boosh). Vernon’s ‘Mason’s Arms’ song (Corrie). Tony Gordon’s mad eye. And Raef (The Apprentice) - so posh he made Brian Sewell seem like an Asbo chav.

Jan 2. OK, which of the fellas on Celeb Big Brother will end up fathering Ulrika's fifth kid? They haven’t paid her £175k to predict the weather. Let’s hope it’s Little Verne, a man who could have a lock-in in a hotel mini-bar. Coolio is a great booking, but the rest of the field almost make you pine for Timmy Mallett. La Toya’s girly voice and cartoon laugh could drive the Dalai Lama to terrorism. Mutya, short for Munter, looks like she fell into a pin cushion, and then ate the cushion. Then there’s Tommy Sheridan: orange-glowing Scottish Trot with feet of clay; infamous only for his alleged sex-life. Bound to clash with tasty Tory pin-up Lucy Pinder, who says she’s “famous for my boobs” but not in the George Bush sense. Michelle Heaton, micro-celebrity drunkard. Motormouth Terry Christian; one Christian who proves the Romans had a point. Ben something or other who is frankly too dull to mention. Tina Malone, who says she’s “fat and funny” – we’ll be the judge of that. Tina is also OCD (you Only Could Drunk). And Ulrika, one of the country’s leading pro-celebrity slappers. E4 joked that’s she’s had more celebs inside her than the Big Brother house – which is unkind but precisely why they booked her. CBB needs flirtation, rows, melt-downs and pricked pomposity to keep us watching. So far, so so. Verne to win! The bookies have given him a short price…

* TRAGIC news on Corrie, Auntie Pam’s chip oil exploded and sadly the old ham survived. Even worse, Jackie ‘The Gob’ Dobbs is back and as welcome as Middle East war. This selfish, manipulative boiler is what passes for a character in today’s soaps. The Street is losing the plot, big time. The cab firm shut on the busiest night of the year, which is about as likely as anyone wasting time with bio-diesel when pump prices are plummeting. But it’s still easier to believe than Lloyd’s new-found lust for Liz McDonald. How does that work? Does she remind him of something that crawled out from behind a rock on Red Dwarf? Lloyd might have swerved dazzling air-head Danielle for an interesting mature woman (although most men would have bedded her first). But this isn’t an interesting mature woman. It’s Liz McDonald, scrag-end of mutton; Bugs Bunny’s randy granny. Tyrone putting up with moaning Molly is equally puzzling. Weatherfield is plagued with weak gutless men and monstrous, self-centred slappers. The only love affair that makes sense is Peter Barlow’s devotion to Jack Daniels.

* SEAN Slater came up with a great new game for New Year’s Day: Dancing With Death On Ice. The cops couldn’t get there to help - they were on the phone to Lusardi. But mercifully, baby Amy survived Sean’s sick suicide scheme. Considering her likely fate growing up in Walford, it would probably have qualified as a mercy killing. Poor mite. Amy wasn’t really born premature; it was an attempted prison break.

* TA to EastEnders for showing us exactly how drunk you’d need to be to fancy hefty Heather – one shot short of catalepsy.

* OK, Brad thinks Nasty Nick is going to fleece Dot, again, so he moves out? That’s as likely as Max sprinting up stairs just eight weeks after getting run down.

* AFTER scientists find the Higgs Boson, can they get round to working out how four adults, two teenagers and two kids are living in Fat Pat’s three bedroom house with only the kids sharing and no-one kipping on the settee.

HOT on TV: World’s Strongest Man…Jonathan Creek – murder most magical…the Shooting Stars retro…Top Gear Vietnam Special…Prog Rock Britannia (BBC4) – the ascension of pretension.

ROT on TV: Sean Slater’s departure (Enders) – what an ice-hole…Tony Robinson & the Blitz Witch – the ghosts with the least…The 39 Steps - inducing the 40 winks…Margi Clarke (Corrie) …and casting on all-new Shooting Stars – Christine Walkden? That’s not ironic; that’s just chronic.

* SEPARATED at birth: young Dotty Cotton in EastEnders and Samara in The Ring, one an evil portent of misery, the other a character in a horror movie.

* LINDA Lusardi dialled 999 from a traffic jam en route to panto. It’s not the first time she’s phoned in her performance.

* ON the World’s Strongest Man, Nick Halling revealed that Stefan Peterson was “in the lead with four fingers in an impressive 28 seconds.” Although I suspect he could beat that if he dated Shirley Carter.

* LOVED the Shooting Stars retro, especially George Dawes – “thank you, baked potato.” But the new version was directed as badly as it was booked. Nice touches from Vic & Bob (the paper bag head, the edible shoe.) Shame they’ve turned in to their dads, though.

. * REASONS to be cheerful: terrific returning shows Mad Men, The Shield, 30Rock, 24, The Fixer, Boston Legal and Lost. ITV’s take on Law & Order is coming. Plus, starting Jan 25 on FX, Generation Kill a grown-up look at the Iraq war from the men behind The Wire.

* WHY the fuss about Gerrard? Rafa said he wanted a more attacking side. He’ll be on the wing this year. C wing.

Dec 27. ROWS, hatred, blackmail, baby-snatching, attempted murder …that’s how it was in Soapland last week. Merry Christmas! EastEnders had the best tear-up, as Suzy the Floozy helped the Mitchells enjoy their traditional Yuletide misery. Ben was “obviously conceived with a weak sperm,” the sozzled gold-digger sneered. Peggy was “Walford’s very own poisonous button mushroom” and Ronnie was dismissed as “old vinegar lips.” (Fair comment, frankly.) As a parting shot, Suzy left Amy’s paternity test results in Sean’s Xmas cracker; which was some punch-line. And if he thinks he’s angry off now, wait till he gets her STD results through…

Over on Corrie, Pop-Eyed Tony thought he’d strangled Jed to death with Carla’s negligee – just a Satsuma short of an MP’s fantasy. If he’d used Eileen’s he could have taken out half the street. The ‘corpse’ came back to life on Xmas Day, so Tony had to truss him up like a Boy George house guest. Corrie had passion too. At dinnertime, Steve MacDonald had the breast, the thigh…and then went home to eat. The only things open in Weatherfield were Roy’s Rolls and Becky’s legs.

Festive joy was in short supply all round. Emmerdale had a corpse in the lake. Although I did laugh when Corrie’s Joe started pelting the Windasses with Scotch eggs. (Nice going son, take anything from the top shelf…) Enders’ attempts at pulling heart-strings were particularly woeful. Why were we supposed to feel sorry for Shirl and her thieving layabout pals? They’re all adults; they work – if they hadn’t bothered to buy a turkey, that’s their look-out. And as for Ian as Ebenezer (again), of all the countless TV rip-offs of A Christmas Carol, this was the least convincing. And that includes the Bugs Bunny version.

On Boxing Day Shirley burnt Phil’s £10K – cos that’s what hard-up people do… Only someone who had never gone without could have such low regard for money as the EastEnders writers. The soap’s ‘tradition’ of Xmas despair only exists because they lack the skill to craft uplifting, life-affirming storylines. Letting gloom-obsessed soap operas dominate this special day makes as much sense as letting the Taliban run our pubs.

* SEAN was only the second unluckiest man in Walford. The most unlucky was Billy. On Wednesday he got snogged by Heather. Talk about The Fright Before Christmas…

* LLOYD is about to pull Liz on Corrie. Didn’t he get in trouble before for chasing the dragon?

* WHAT do we want from Christmas telly? Laughs! But as TV has turned its back on family entertainers, mainstream comedy hits are few and far between. Even the once-reliable Royle Family stank like Jim Royle’s drool-splattered whiskers. Congratulations then to Gavin & Stacey, a sitcom that manages to be likeable, believable, sweet and funny. It’s built on culture clashes between South Wales and Essex. Gav & Stace are completely upstaged by best mates Nessa and Smithy. And Rob Brydon sparkles as the easily-impressed Uncle Bryn, this time beguiled by the simple delight of mint Baileys. Highlights: Nessa asking: “Stace, will you do my back? The razor’s by the sink.” And Pete punching Dave Coaches. Oi Pete, no, you’re supposed to deck the halls, not the house guests.

* THE Royle Family special was weaker than a window-dresser’s handshake. It’s always good to see Jim Royle, but even by this show’s standards nothing much happened. The un-defrosted turkey has been a sitcom staple for decades and the new characters were charmless caricatures. The jokes – the “flame-retarded” sofa, “5p for a carrier bag” and “Bar-barer” - were thinner than Jim will ever be. The only genuinely funny line, “it’s not a day for kids really, Christmas, is it?” had been done to death in the trailers.

* LET’S be charitable about Doctor Who. It looked fantastic – the perfect Victorian Christmas setting, complete with snow, street urchins and, erh, Cybermen. Sadly the story was pants. For unexplained reasons the clunking Cyber-berks had teamed up with a demented 1850s feminist (Miss Hartigan) who just happened to have, uniquely, a brain beyond their control. For unexplained reasons (BBC marketing?) they’d turned dogs into Cyber-shades. David Morrissey thought he was Doctor Who but wasn’t – he’d just absorbed Who history from an info-tube, which he also somehow (cue garbled explanation) used to blow up Cybermen. A vicar was killed so Hartigan could lure workhouse bosses to the funeral in order to take over their brains and make orphans work in their cyber-factory – though adult males would have been more efficient. For more unexplained reasons, the Cybermen needed Hartigan to run a Cyber-King (a giant robot-shaped spaceship that lurched over buildings like the Marshmellow Man from Ghostbusters.) The Doc used a hot air balloon (powered by Russell T’s windy rhetoric?) to make her see what she’d become. She then killed the Cyber-clots and herself by screaming. Great if you’re eight, not so thrilling for genuine sci-fi fans.

* SO orphans snatched by Cybermen. Scary. But it could have been worse, it could have been Madonna.

HOT on TV: Gavin & Stacey – tidy…Wallace & Gromit…Harry Hill…Lead Balloon…Rab C. Nesbitt…John Adams…and Crooked House – scarier than Blanche Hunt naked.

ROT on TV: Clash Of The Santas – contrived, cringe-worthy cack, about as funny as an empty stocking…Holby Silly…Royle Family – biggest wash-out since the 2007 floods…Caught In A Trap – Caught In Some Crap more like…and After You’ve Gone – as much fun as the Zavvi Xmas party.

* THIS year’s soap Xmas carols: (Good King Wenceslas) Becky Granger dropped her drawers with that naughty Steven/In a grotty cab office, his buttocks were heavin’/Brightly shone his balding head, her ear-rings did glisten/Who’s that coming to the door? Michelle for a lis-is-sten…

* Peter the red-nosed Barlow/Will be in a clinic soon.

* On the first day of Christmas, Sean Slater read to me/Details of Amy’s paternity…

* How Great Thou Arse (Heather)

* Deck the halls with Amy’s test results/Jack’s the Daddy ha-ha-ha!

* CHEEKY Channel 4 let President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad of Iran do their alternative Christmas message. What wags, eh? Presumably Robert Mugabe was unavailable. C4 claim that by giving a platform to the despotic weasel they are flying the flag for free speech; although the only reason they did it was to appear rebellious and kick up a stink. Ahmanutjob is diametrically opposed to everything the sinking channel believes in, but if he upsets middle England, job done. It really is as adolescent as that. It’s just as well they weren’t broadcasting in the 1930s or we’d have got kindly old Adolf patting dogs and kissing babies. It’s not that there aren’t decent causes worthy of alternative Xmas air-time – old folk dying from hypothermia, the jobless, the homeless, our crumbling economy, our dying high streets…What Britain needs more than anything is a genuine alternative to Brown-Cameron, the EU and the chattering classes – as represented by the publicly-subsidised, useless amoral tosspots of Channel 4.

* TOM didn’t deserve to win Strictly. Rachel was by far the best dancer. Even Mugabe reckons the votes were fixed. BBC1’s biggest LE show is as shoddy as its tatty set. The voting system is ridiculous, the direction poor and Bruce’s garbled explanations were nearly as dire as his jokes (which in turn were as flat as Arlene Phillips’s forehead). Still, never mind Rachel. Arlene wasn’t the only one entranced by your smooth opening.

* CROOKED House gave us three ghost stories revolving around a door knocker older than Bruce Forsyth (if not his jokes). Written by Mark Gatiss, these spooky tales recalled the BBC’s old M.R. James Xmas tradition. The bride who stabbed out her own eyes could have been Janine Butcher if her honeymoon with that old codger had gone ahead.

* SMALL joys of Xmas TV: “Merry Christmas ma” – Nasty Nick’s return (Enders) Boozy Suzy’s Xmas dinner outburst – operation dessert storm; shame she didn’t do a double act with Aunt Sal. Sid Waddell. Darts dish Nicola Moriarty. Stanley Baxter clips. Noel’s Xmas Presents. And Rab C Nesbitt – what says Christmas more than a bad-tempered alcoholic in a grotty string vest?

* RANDOM Xmas irritations: special editions of shows that aren’t special to begin with (Charlotte Church, Celeb Ding Dong)…the same old cack with tinsel. Griff Rhys Jones ruining It’ll Be All Right On The Night. And Noddy Holder’s Top Xmas 40 songs ranking the Pogues lower than Mr Blobby. Gertcha.

* MYSTERIES: how does Deirdre Barlow get thru Xmas without someone trying to baste her turkey neck? If it’s For One Night Only, why was Milton Jones on twice? And is Roxy Mitchell taking ugly pills? Doesn’t she look rough! Someone call Narnia and see if they’re missing a witch.

* SEPARATED at birth: Corrie’s Tara and a wide-mouthed frog; one a simple, ground-dwelling creature with an over-sized gob, the other one a frog.

* NOT much God in the Christmas schedules, was there? Kids watching telly would be forgiving for thinking the true meaning of Xmas is dysfunctional families and royalties for Leonard Cohen.

* NIALL Ferguson dubbed China and America “Chimerica”. Who writes his script? Peter Andre?

* “KING Scum” said the graffiti on the Kings’ place in Emmerdale. Except the ‘S’ was on the front door, so when that was open, all we saw was “King Cum”…which I believe is Russell Brand’s nickname.

* TOP Xmas irony: the Gavin & Stacey cast discussing EastEnders and not mentioning that Mick (Larry Lamb) is in it and Edna (Edna Doré) was Frank Butcher’s Mum.

* XMAS wishes for 2009: 1) Dr Who writers to put substance over style 2) No more re-workings of Scrooge. 3) Specials for popular comedians, with decent writers. If we can revive Top Of The Pops, why not family entertainment? We need big comedy shows to replace Eric & Ernie and The Two Ronnies.

* HOT NOT on TV: Brian Conley as Buttons (Nottingham), Bradley Walsh as Wishee Washee (Woking), Joe Pasquale as Smee (Dartford), Tucker as Buttons (Bromley).

* ROLAND Rivron claimed “no one was laughing at mainstream comics in the 80s.” What? Not Les Dawson, Dick Emery or Tommy Cooper? How many videos was Davidson selling back then? A lot more than have ever watched Rivron.

Dec 20. THIS may sound like a mad idea, but why doesn’t the Royal Variety Show try featuring some variety one year? At the moment it’s a glorified pop concert with a few token comics, a dollop of show-tunes and far too many ugly blokes in drag. The Royal used to mean something. Now it’s a clapped-out bore, recycling the same faces year in year out. Tarby was on in 2007, doing identical whiskery gags. Take That and Barrowman appeared in 2006. Cliff, who was diabolical, did it in ’05. Laziness and complacency run like yellow streaks through the smug offices of BBC1 entertainment. The production was laboured, the bookings baffling. Why have the Lion King – it’s been running in West End for nine years. And who gives a Zzzz about Zorro? Emma Williams has a terrific voice, but Zorro himself was one big zero.

The only surprise of the night was that Barrowman kept it in his trousers.

And of course being the Beeb, if they can’t make it good they’ll make it gay. We had blokes as ballerinas, Norton in a dress, and a piss-poor version of La Cage Aux Folles closing the show. Does producer Dominic Smith really thinks Douglas Hodge is a worthy successor to showbiz gods like Bassey and Sammy Davis Junior? The original West End show starred the excellent Denis Quilley. You didn’t realise the glamorous women were men until they took off their wigs. This lot looked like dockers in drag It was the worst finale ever.

Elsewhere disappointment reigned. Jimmy Carr, whose delivery is unleavened by warmth, struggled with the audience, just like he did in ’04. Armstrong & Miller bombed. Corden & Horne were plain embarrassing. As comedy double acts go, these boys are LIDL and Lard. And Rihanna, who was dressed like a Zorro extra, had the charisma of cold paella. I’m bored with Geraldine too – if only Peter Kay had been McQueen for a night instead of dragging the joke on and on. The Royal Command needs a producer who understands variety, a genuinely varied bill, a major headline act and an entertainer like Brian Conley at the helm to drive the show. As it stands, the Royal is a disgrace. Either scrap it or give it to people who know what they’re doing.

* MY dream Royal bill: Neil Diamond, Robin Williams, Lance Burton, Joe Longthorne, Faith Hill, MGMT (with acrobats), Adrian Walsh, Mick Miller, vent Terry Fator, Green Day, Paul Zenon, the Blackpool Tower circus acts, juggler Steve Rawlings, Chris Brown, Lewis Black, the Grumbleweeds, Johnnie Casson…

But we'll probably get the Brokeback Mountaineers...

* JANINE Butcher tried to marry a trainee corpse on EastEnders. Using the altar ego Judith Bernstein she conned some old schmuck into a synagogue wedding – until Fat Pat scuppered it. Why, Pat? It would never have been consummated. The groom looked like he’d have spent the honeymoon getting out of the car. He was so old he’d need Viagra to raise his hand. He must have gone to school with Moses. The up-shot? Murderess and renowned ceiling inspector Janine is back in Walford. Yippee! She’s a real girl next door type. If you happen to live next door to a brothel.

* HEFTY Heather has turned detective. She’s Walford’s answer to Wallender: Whale-Ender. Can she find out what’s happened to Jay? He’s been missing since October. Maybe he’s hiding in Minty’s boat. With Corky and Walford Town FC.

* NIGELLA says she likes her plumptious beauties “gorgeously sticky.” She also reveals that she likes to “put it all in at once”, adding “After Christmas I use goose fat.” Isn’t it incredible that some low individuals try to find a filthy subtext in all of this?

* MEMO to Nigella: I’m on Britain’s Best Celebrity Dish next year. Can you help? I’d love to take you up the meat aisle.

HOT on TV: Alexandra (X Factor) – sensational… The Millies – humbling…Elvis Costello (Spectacle)…Michael McIntyre – bouncier than Lisa Snowdon’s boobs on Strictly…Andrew Strauss…and Paul O’Grady’s Pinocchio panto – better cast than the Royal.

ROT: Royal Variety – doing for entertainment what James Corden will never do to Alexandra…La Cage Awful...Graham Norton in drag – and Cinderella thought her sisters were ugly…referee Andy D' Urso…and BBC Sports Personality of the Year – like the Federal Reserve, the interest rate was zero.

* SEPARATED at birth: Joe Swash and Alfred E Neuman; one a dim, grinning buffoon who seems borderline nuts, the other the face of an unfunny US magazine.

* THERE aren’t enough shoe-chuckers in Iraq to liven up the BBC Sports Personality Of The Year. Gawd, it’s dull. When Gary Lineker introduced “the oarsome foursome” I actually hoped it was the Slater Sisters.

* TOP Three ways to tell if you are possessed by an Apparitions demon: 1) whenever Songs of Praise is on TV, your head spins. 2) You’re female but your voice is now two octaves below Barry White. 3) You are Nick Knowles.

* I BOUGHT my turkey yesterday. The new Jethro DVD. In honour of Christmas, all the jokes are leftovers.

* FRANKIE Boyle on the economic crisis: “I like the new advert for the Halifax. It’s just Howard hanging himself in a bathroom.”

* US network Showtime is developing a gay superhero. Will it be Green Lantern? He had a magic ring.

* JIMMY Carr: “If I had an optician’s I’d make them do the shop’s sign in a blurry font.”

SMALL joys of TV: Rachel’s vanishing costumes (Strictly). Travis (Wayne Rooney’s Street Striker). The massed ranks of misfits and losers (X Factor final). Alexandra's reaction to winning. Rhod Gilbert suspecting the Royal princes of vandalising his bus shelter. And Sarah Vezmar as Inge the singer (Parents of The Band - shame the show's a dud).

Dec 13. WHAT a shocking week. We actually witnessed a man die on TV. But enough about Angus Deayton at the Comedy Awards… What a miserable experience that was. Deayton fluffed his first gag, seemed rattled through-out and was ill-served by a script that managed to be mean-spirited and spiteful but rarely funny. ITV viewers won’t have recognised most of the contenders, and having watched them deliver flat, witless acceptance speeches will have struggled to work out exactly how they qualify as comedians. The mood of the room was ugly; ripe with bitterness and envy. James Corden – the likeable fat bloke from Gavin & Stacey - was told to “**** off”. And Ricky Gervais’s name was booed. Yet Ricky’s pre-recorded acceptance skit, in bed with George Michael, was the highlight of the night. Gervais has committed the cardinal sin in the eyes of these under-achieving malcontents: he’s funny and internationally successful.

Other genuine highlights included Frank Skinner, who was effortlessly on form, and that hilarious Harry Hill clip with Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall in a shed full of chicks. “What animal of any kind would want to live in here?” he asked. Harry replied: “A fox?” Harry still has what most TV comedy has lost – a sense of fun. Telly execs bang on about the need for humour to be “edgy” or “challenging” while constantly forgetting Rule One: make us laugh. Alan Carr couldn’t. His idiotic claim that criminal dimwit Karen Matthews was “a gay icon” was as funny as toxic bangers at a barbecue. What’s happened to Carr? When he started, Alan was a breath of fresh air, camp but not crude with mainstream appeal. Now he’s happy to go for shock and bore. What a waste. Let’s hope James Corden doesn’t go the same way. His writing has the popular touch, but his appearances suggest the praise has already gone to his head. The big difference between today’s comedy names and old stars is that the vets wanted to entertain us all. Today’s mob just please themselves. The Comedy Awards expose the failings of the fashionable and the yawning gap between TV humour and the things real people actually laugh at. They are utterly removed from the general public. At least Wossy combines his wicked wit with some warmth. Deayton’s snide digs were as welcome as a blow torch at a snowmen convention.

* WHY no Dara O’Briain at the awards? Surely this prime Irish porker isn’t toxic too?

* OVER in “realistic” Walford, people are still giving away money, men are turning down sex and Nick Kamen’s 1985 launderette strip was re-enacted by a tramp – no, not Roxy. She was busy hiding her top secret DNA test results under a box of pub snacks. Natch someone (Archie?) nabbed them and, due to a paperwork mix-up, now thinks baby Amy’s real dad is a bag of Lay’s…which is not far from the truth. Elsewhere Tony King’s reign of terror ended before he could lure Lauren into his perverted trap. A lynch-mob of locals, including a guy with a noose, was headed off at the pass by various goody-goody ethnic characters. (How frustrating must it be to be a black or Asian actor in a soap, forever denied meaty roles by muddle-headed liberal writers). Some say it was brave for EastEnders to tackle paedophiles a few years after Corrie did. I would say that instead of painting working class people as Neanderthal losers, a grown-up soap might consider why child molesters arouse such public fury. And lay the blame squarely on the wet, useless justice system that fails to adequately punish the guilty.

* IMAGINE what Jane Beale, stand-up, might have made of Whitney’s ordeal: “Tony was a caring step-dad. He taught her how to act; he said, ‘Act like nothing happened’…It was her birthday in the week. Sweet sixteen and never been legal. But it’s not all bad news. On the plus side she’s just been signed up as cover girl for the next Scorpions’ album.” Child abuse is a serious thing, of course, but EastEnders isn’t. If they really wanted to confront reality, they’d have a few characters worrying about their jobs and mortgages. And maybe show us some of that good old East End ‘community fanaticism.’

HOT on TV: Froch v Pascal – best televised bout since Benn v McClellan…Manny Pacquiao – devastating…Frank Skinner – funny and unflappable…and Patsy Palmer (Enders) – that’s the Soap Awards in the bag, luv.

ROT on TV: Angus Deayton – as cheery as a Swiss euthanasia centre…Hairy Bakers – wooden puddings…Wallender – bell-ender…Peter Serafinowicz…The Pregnant Man – mum’s not the word; but at least the kid has his sperm donor’s eyes.

* AT time of writing I don’t know who won The X Factor. But Alexandra has the strongest voice by far (last week’s loser, Diana had the most interesting one.) ITV should give likeable JLS a spin-off series; a cross between the Monkees and Heroes: JLS – Justice League of Soul.

* WHEN killing yourself on TV becomes passé, maybe the soaps could pick up on the trend. For a small fee you could be incinerated in Weatherfield crem. For a larger one, you could have your demise written in to the script. Imagine that: bury my heart in Walford nick, after a messy love triangle involving Dawn Swann and Corky the forgotten parrot.

* WILL Sky One’s controversial documentary encourage viewers to contemplate suicide? Not as much as Don’t Forget The Lyrics did…

* SEPARATED at birth: Speaker of the House Michael Martin and comic actor Roy Kinnear – one an inveterate joker who it’s hard to take seriously; the other…Roy Kinnear.

* WHY should C4 be saved by the BBC? The channel is flopping because its programmes stink. Let it go to the wall.

*SEAN Lock: “They say a woman’s work is never done – maybe that’s why they get paid less.”

* COMING soon: George Michael Live At Earl’s Court. I hear tickets were limited. The place only has eight cubicles.

* THE BBC is planning a sequel to World War Two: Behind Closed Doors. It’ll be subtitled: Christmas with the Mitchells.

* SMALL joys of TV: Poppy Jhakra as Minnie the minx (Corrie). The League of Robots (Futurama). Minder re-runs on ITV4. And Deayton’s obvious discomfort when Eva Mendez praised Benny Hill (Comedy Awards).

* RANDOM irritations: Corrie writers stealing Steven Wright jokes (“it’s a small world but I wouldn’t want to paint it.”) John Suchet on Going For Gold – even more patronising than TV weather forecasts, and just as dumbed down. And the dullness of Heroes this season: they must be losing viewers faster than the characters lost their powers. Gordon Brown has more chance of saving the world - and he can't even save Woolworths.

Dec 6. WAY to go, Joe! Swashy won I’m A Celebrity like we always knew he would. And now he must face one final nightmare: recording an Iceland ad with Kerry Katona. Friday’s final held more horrors than a rip-off Lapland grotto. Genial George ate cockroaches, which tasted “nutty”, locusts which tasted “toasty” and kangaroo penis which tasted of his boyfriend. Magnificent Martina stoically suffered a face-full of creepy-crawlies. While Joe endured a coffin full of rats and slippery eels… which must have felt like being back at EastEnders. Viewers loved laddish Joe for his cheeky charm and his guileless honesty; but recoiled collectively at his kissing frenzies. The Cockney kid was more touchy-feely than a blind groper at a Swedish orgy. But he did well; which is more than we can say for Paddick. Why did ITV book this dull ex-cop? It’s too much to hope that they were trying to expose the institutional wetness at the heart of the modern Met. No guts, no personality; talent-less Paddick tried to be all things to all men and failed miserably. “He’s a policeman and yet he doesn’t like confrontation,” said Martina. “Go figure.” So why was he there? Simply because he was gay: gay and semi-recognisable. And frankly that isn’t good enough.

Nor is booking someone because their other half is famous. Carly Zucker brought nothing except a nice smile and an engagement ring. Georgina Baillie would have been a better signing. Jungle hero, incredibly, was David Van Div who injected some much-needed aggro into the series. He was putting it on of course, but David winding up Nicola made the show worth watching. They got on like Alien and Predator. Without David, this series would have stunk like Martina’s wash and cry jungle tub. Their days would have been as empty as an estate agent’s diary. This can’t be allowed to happen again. No more who-he? bookings. No more loved-up models. No more bores. Aim higher, ITV, go for the really mental. Bring on Heather Mills! Joey Barton! Max Mosley! David Starkey! Boy George and his spanking paddle. Let chaos reign.

* THEY played Chocolate Roulette on Thursday. It sounded like Paddick’s favourite fantasy. Naturally Georgie went first.

* TOP quote from Joe Swash: “David’s taken my kindness and manilupized it.” Never mind mate, we can all congratutize you now.

* SO Lauren ran over Max on EastEnders. That’s Lauren, 14, who had never driven a jam-jar in her life… Not only did she manage to instantly adjust the seat so her feet could reach the pedals, she also worked out in seconds how to put it in gear, operate the clutch and drive without the car jerking and shuddering like a Moroccan milk-float. She’ll be presenting Top Gear next.

* IF Suzy is pregnant with Phil (or Archie’s) child, technically has she got a bum in the oven?

* NEW telly tec Wallander is a bigger wet blanket than Paddick. Wally is grey and gloomy, with the charisma of cold cabbage... Haven’t we got enough miserable middle-aged cops with mucked-up home lives on telly without importing this sorry Swede? I’d rather watch a Brit equivalent of Vic Mackey from the Shield; preferably played by Ray Winstone.

HOT on TV: Spooks – stunning… Outnumbered…Special Forces Heroes…and Ant & Dec – true kings of the jungle.

ROT on TV: Wallander – colder than Gordon Ramsay’s marital bed…Star Stories – crass enough for BBC3…The Story of Costume Drama – all the sparkle of a bottle of Lucozade with the top left off for a week…and Clone – stinks like Mallett’s breath after a penis colada.

* HORIZON wasted an hour asking “What time is it?” It’s dead easy to find out. Open your windows in the middle of the night and play Slipknot loud. At least ten neighbours will shout: “Oi! Turn that effing racket off, don’t you know it’s 3 in the morning?!”

* THE economy is crumbling. The only things likely to be in the black by Christmas are Carla Connor’s roots and Steve McDonald’s eyes. So ta to Niall Ferguson for reminding us it’s been this bad before. And for not reminding us that the cycle is normally recession, depression, protectionism, war…

* WHAT about Britney on The X Factor? She turned up with an entourage of 72 people and not one of them remembered to bring her voice. If she’d performed like that as an unknown she’d never have got past the auditions.

* JOHN Barrowman – see, I said he was over-exposed.

* A JAP theatre company is putting on a play featuring robot actors. Each one of them handpicked from the cast of Hollyoaks…

* POSH Spice says she gets letters from women saying the Spice Girls changed their lives. Mine too. I used to like music.

* TV’s biggest mystery? Why do BBC1 throw away something as good as Outnumbered at 9.30pm on a Saturday night?

* RANDOM Mr Sulu query: should gay Star Fleet officers set phasers to bum?

RANDOM irritations: Louis Theroux in Philly – more out of his depth than Joe Swash on Eggheads. The certainty that Corrie will string out Steve’s campaign to make Michelle hate him for as long as they dragged out the will he testify for Becky storyline. And that diminutive pug-faced Irish irritant on The X Factor. Can you believe he’s lasted so long? But expect Louis to be back again next year.

SMALL joys of TV: Doris propositioning Gavin (Gavin & Stacey). Uncle Bryn (ditto). The Russell Brands (Beehive). Tamer Hazan (Enders). Nicola Moriarty (Sky darts) – she’s pretty, funny and feisty; the new Mel Sykes?

* SHAPPI Khorsandi: “It’s no fun being a broody Iranian woman. Every time I told somebody my clock’s ticking they hit the ground.” * HOT not on TV: Joe Longthorne, Johnnie Casson and Joey Blower, live at the Blackpool Grand. (Comedy Awards reviewed next week.)

* DOUBLE bubble! Lee Evans hilarious ‘Live At The O2’ and From The Jam’s modish ‘A First Class Return’ are out now on DVD and I have one copy of each (worth £21.99 and £11.99 respectively) to give away to SEVEN lucky readers. For a chance to win just name the Jam’s original singer. Was it a) David Mellor b) Paul Weller or c) Fats Waller? Answer on a postcard by Wednesday to Garry’s Jam Contest, PO Box 10220, Sutton Coldfield, B76 1ZH. Usual Daily Star Sunday rules apply.

* BRIAN Paddick was talking about Timmy Mallett’s cheating tactics when he moaned: “He dug his nails into my arm to stop me swallowing.” Not a common occurrence for odd ex-cop. L. Wright of Burwash wins £35 for that howler. Keep ’em coming to the address at the top of this page.

* Runner-up, Gordon Ramsay talking about noodles, when he revealed: “A minimum of six pulls is needed to get the right thickness.”

Nov 29. THURSDAY night and a “dirty leech” is getting stuck in to Nicola McLean’s left boob. While a million dirty leches look on in envy. An odd week on I’m A Celebrity. Kilroy was first out (Why? Where’s the justice?) Joe Swash tried to pull Esther. And vain David Van Day emerged as the most gloriously deluded contender in jungle history. Van Div delighted us with his dreams of a West End show with Mallett (Rock Bottom); a TV show with Mallett (Barrel Bottom) and a hit single, Biff Baff Boff (just rotten). OK, there’s a chance it’s all put on, that he’s deliberately aping Peter Andre with the song, and Paul Burrell with his squeals. But I prefer to think he genuinely believes he’s reviving his worthless career. This prompts a nagging fear: what if some moron at ITV, high on irony, thinks it’s a good idea to give Mallett and Van Driver their own banana-skin strewn “slapstick” series? Tim & Dave, Mallett & Muppet, Fat-head & F***wit…call it what you will, the prospect is as welcome as a winter vomiting bug. For starters Mallett is not all there. In any profession other than showbiz he’d have been sectioned long ago. Van Div meanwhile is only good for causing rifts, tiffs and resentment. There’s more chance of seeing Clarkson advertising Yorkie Bars than of David making a decent TV show. (Unless he can dance very badly…) What a pair of pumped-up fakes…but enough about Nicola.

In their defence, the two stooges have brought something – insanity, tension, belligerence - to an otherwise underwhelming party. Carly Zucker was as much use as a minor VAT cut. She did nothing except complain about being loaded. So no wonder you zucked her off last night. We rarely saw Dani, let alone Behr. The only one we’ve seen naked is non-celebrity Brian Paddick, a borderline flasher. Martina and Simon have under-whelmed. Nicola’s a prize bitch. So I reckon Joe, George, Van Div and steely old Esther will make the final four. Swashy has just been himself - likeable, caring, dim, flirtatious. He made a rod for his own back with George, and if he gets any closer to Esther he’ll end up in an even scarier Cavern of Calamity. But Joe to win, I say. And Van Div to biff, baff, boff off.

* PLEASE note: Brothers Of The Head was a film on C4, not George and Brian’s nickname.

* NEVER mind banks, I’m putting my money where it won’t be touched…under Gordon Ramsay’s cockaleekie. He was Celebrity Father of the Year in 2006. And he’ll be Celibate Husband of the Year 2009. It could have been worse though, he could have knocked up Delia.

* THOSE new Gordon TV shows in full: Ramsay's Sex Kitten Nightmares, Cock-along Live, The F Word – F for fidelity, honest darling…

* SEPARATED at birth: Gordon Ramsay’s tart, Sarah Symonds and Jo Portman in Spooks; one an expert in shady practices, undercover manoeuvres and embarrassing leaks. The other a TV spy.

* IT didn’t look good on 24: Redemption; Jack Bauer against three car-loads of heavily armed bad guys. What terrible odds. The bad guys didn’t have a chance. Granted four of them did briefly capture and torture him, but that just gave Jack a breather before snapping their leader’s neck with his feet. Don’t you love this guy? Jack makes Gene Hunt look like Timmy Mallett. The Chinese roughed him up for nearly two years and all he needed to get over it was a wash and brush-up. To suit the post-Bush mood, rogue hero Jack is now a humanitarian saving schoolboy orphans from becoming canon fodder for a callous African war-lord. He wins, but only by giving himself up for questioning by a Senate subcommittee about his own enthusiastic interrogation methods – Jack could have made Marcel Marceau talk. Typical Yanks, they’ve got the wrong guy. They should subpoena the writers for mucking up series six.

* THIS was a two hour version of 24. So why wasn’t it called 2?

* BAD news on Survivors. Following a killer flu outbreak, there’s no tap water, no power and no mobiles. But on the plus side, no taxes, no EastEnders and nothing to pay at Netto… After a sluggish start, this remake of the 1970s cult hit has picked up nicely. It should do wonders for sales of canned food, candles and bottled water.

* SURVIVORS shows Britain with no banks, hope or electricity. Or as experts call it, 2010.

* I LIKE blonde slapper Sarah. She’s not the Lord of the Flies, but she’s dropped a few.

HOT on TV: Chris Rock – dangerously funny…new Futurama… Michael McIntyre (Live At The Apollo) – bubblier than a champagne Jacuzzi…and Joe Strummer: The Future Is Unwritten.

ROT on TV: Apparitions – as worthless as Woolies…EastEnders – sagging like Cilla’s over-exposed cleavage…Miss Naked Beauty – this series did…and Guinness World Records Smashed – whoever commissioned this must have been.

RANDOM irritations: Dev Allahan ‘comedy’ bits (Corrie). I’m A Celebrity getting dropped for Man U’s no-score bore. Julie Graham. Victoria Coren’s voice – as soothing as a barbed wire cosh. Unattached straight men turning down sex with beautiful women in dramas. And Channel Five – so devoid of ideas, they lazily leech off of ITV shows.

* DIANA Vickers assured X Factor viewers that “throat or no throat, I’m going to give the performance of my life.” To which most men responded “with throat” was preferable. Deeply so. Not Louis though. He’s too busy stripping away what’s left of JLS’s credibility.

* FRANKIE Boyle on Kerry Katona’s new perfume: “It must be pretty good, she's drinking four bottles of it a day.”

* ARE you watching this show about people possessed by demons? I believe it’s called Today At Westminster.

* SMALL joys of TV: Graham on Corrie – “daft from every conceivable angle, especially upside down.” Blanche in court. Ricky Hatton’s fat suit. And Nicola’s bikini in the cold tank (I’m A Celebrity); she was clearly, ahem, taking in washing. David Blunkett could have read those lips.

Nov 23. WHY, you must be asking? Why oh why bring David Van Div and Timmy-Bloody-Mallett to the jungle? One is a malignant grump; the other’s a cackling chump. Timmy-Bloody-Mallett, the most punch-able man on the planet. He’s “irrepressible”, say ITV. Yeah. Like a Somali pirate raid, and marginally less welcome. Which is why this is absolutely perfect casting - finally we have people worth torturing. Don’t get me wrong. I’m as happy to watch Kilroy up to his neck in snakes and slime as the next man – especially if the next man is UKIP boss Nigel Farage. But the old rascal was starting to look good. He’s shown grit, guts and determination. He’s no fun at all. Much better to inflict insect hell on diddy Van Div with his giant ego, yellow streak and baffling sense of entitlement. These two twerps have brought edge to a series which has taken a while to kick in. Booking Brian Paddick to entertain us was as sensible as opening a John Sergeant school of dance. And the only sexual spark so far has been George Takei lusting over Joe Swash’s rear.

Nice guy Swashy is clear favourite. I just wish he’d stop squealing like a stuck pig. Nicola McLean may pip him at the post, though…What magnificent bazookas! Working with her must be like being bombarded with volley-balls. Nicola showed determination forged at a hundred brutal Sales Day confrontations to beat Joe in the I-scream challenge. “Nicola swallowed everything,” noted Esther. And not for the first time, the nation quipped as one. Esther, when not straining water through her pants, is a likeable and surprisingly vulnerable old stick. And Martina is a proper star, delighting us with cruel lesbian gags like: “I hear the only reason men name their penises is so that they don't have a total stranger making all the decisions for them.” You suspect she has more in her pants than Paddick does. Talk about Knackered of The Yard. How is this dull pillock a celebrity? Carly’s talents are known only to Joe Cole. Simon is finally coming good after displaying all the presence of a hologram for days. And Dani Behr is said to be here too, but how can you tell? The sole point of Dani seems to be to inspire jokes like “Does a Behr s*** in the woods?” Highlight so far has to be Gollum-eyed TV legend George singing the Olly Olly Olly song. Well done Swashy. Joe to win, I say! Iceland need a new face in their adverts.

* JOE Swash revealed that he calls his manhood “Alfie” – except after he’s been for a dip in that ice cold pool; then he calls it “Al”.

* QUOTE of the week: “We’ve had five nights of hell-holes” – Dani. Sounds like Roy Cropper’s honeymoon.

* I FEEL sorry for the crocs. Bad enough to get your bits cut off for TV, but then to find out Esther’s got bigger teeth than you…that just adds insult to injury.

* JOHN Sergeant and Kristina have left Strictly. Shame. Now the only useless couple left are Bruce and his scriptwriter… Yes John has walked, with slightly more style than he danced – he moved like a drunk struggling to shift a wardrobe. But the jumped-up judges had no right to bully him off the show. Nobody watches Strictly for them. Especially not Craig, an even camper Cowell wannabe, the rat-like Bruno or that Botox-ed bitch Arlene Phillips with her awful hectoring voice and irritating rehearsed lines. John knew he was crap. Problem is, the judges don’t.

* JOHN pulled out of Strictly. If Mathew Firsht had pulled out of Laura White she might still be on X Factor.

* HAYLEY Cropper is back on Corrie! Yawn. She reckons Africa changed her. Yeah? Not as much as Amsterdam did. Hayley said: “I often thought what sort of a hole have I left behind.” Good God, she hasn’t had that removed as well, has she?

HOT on TV: David Haye – hotter than an LA wildfire…Underbelly (FX)…Diana Vickers (X Factor)…Argumental (Dave)…John From Cincinnati (FX)…and Nicola McLean – the croc’s bollocks.

ROT on TV: Now That’s What I Call 1983 – cheesier than Heather Trott’s larder…The I.T. Crowd – sh…you know the rest…Clone – typical BBC3 sitcom; crude, corny and crammed with OTT canned laughter…Screenwipe – arse wipe…and Nick Knowles on Wild About Your Garden – bring back Tommy Walsh!

* MEMO to ITV: Def Leppard’s Pyromania, U2’s War, ZZ Top’s Eliminator, New Order’s Power Corruption & Lies, Motorhead’s Another Perfect Day, Bowie’s Let’s Dance – that’s what I call 1983.

* Desperate Housewives has jumped on five years. If EastEnders did that, Roxy would be on her third “whose-baby?” storyline, Brad and Stacey would have split up and got back together 87 times. And Max would have been the victim of so many murder attempts the freckles on his face would have merged into the shape of a giant target. But there’d still be no sign of Walford Town FC.

* “PITY poor Bobby Davro. One minute he’s a successful, sought-after comedy impressionist; the next he’s trapped in a joyless soap playing a non-descript character written for by morons who think “variety” means playing the spoons. What a come down. What a farce.

* SEPARATED at birth: Michael Moore and Comic Book Guy from the Simpsons. One a fat freakish fantasist living a fake life; the other a cartoon geek.

SMALL joys of TV: Monte Barrett’s disastrous arse-over-tit boxing ring entry. George Takei’s voice. Classic On The Buses clips, RIP Reg Varney. And Michelle Orpe (Sky Poker) – an inspiration to all male players, no matter how small your stack.

JUNGLE mysteries: with Nicola around, why are only Esther’s pants straining? Did Joe call his manhood Alfie after the film, or ALF the TV alien (who was fat, hairy, and wouldn’t eat a pussy)? Where’s Mallett’s top lip gone? And what part of “I’m Joe Cole’s fiancée” makes Carly a celebrity?

RANDOM irritations: Bianca and Tony on EastEnders - Thicko and Sicko. Kerry Fatona in the Iceland promo stings. Corrie’s crime wave. And Matt Willis – vain, pointless poltroon.

* THE Devil’s Whore. Wasn’t that Janine Butcher’s nickname?

NOV 16. OK, Martina is a superb signing, but who are all these other people on I’m A Celebrity? Carly Zucker has been granted celeb status on the basis of being engaged to Joe Cole. Nicola McLean apparently qualifies because she looks great in a bikini and ex-cop turned political failure Brian Paddick is here for one reason alone - he’s gay. Rest assured Sir Ian Blair won’t be on the next jungle show even though he was a higher-ranking cop and an all-round bigger failure, because Blair is straight. Being gay now guarantees you a fast-track to TV fame even if you’re not entertaining and can’t actually do anything. (See also the unknown wash-out Scott Henshall a few years back).

ITV has clearly decided that Robert Kilroy-Silk will be this year’s villain, editing him to look like a male chauvinist back-stabber. But then again Kilroy set UKIP back years so I can’t say I mind. As for the rest Mr Sulu is a genuine sci-fi legend (if languishing behind Kirk, Spock, Bones, Scotty, Uhuru and Scotty in any self-respecting Star Trek Top Ten). Esther Rancid is favourite to stoically brave a coffin full of rats, Simon Webbe is OK but nothing special, and Navratilova is as cheerful as a bucket of meal worms. Dani Behr has never done much for me. Sarah Palin or even that swinging vicar would have been more fun. Which leaves Joe Swash as my early tip to win. If only he’d stop yelping. Screaming like a girl won’t wash, Swash. Which is more than you can say for Nicola. Expect her to see her scrubbing away in that bikini daily. Insert your own scrubber gag here.

Forget Kilroy, for real Euro skepticism, see: http://www.ukip.org/

Nov 15. GOK Wan, competitive cooking, singing soap stars, tedious newsreader high-jinks…Yes, it’s Children In Need time folks, and this year BBC1 didn’t even bother to book a comedian. It’s the same story on I’m A Celebrity. No comics, no entertainers, and three people who aren't even celebrities. But we do get a dull ex-copper. Hurrah! Newsflash: it’s miserable out here. People are worried about money, mortgages and jobs. We need laughs more than ever. Where the hell are they? Remove Danny Dyer’s Deadliest Men from the equation and the funniest shows on TV right now are Harry Hill’s TV Burp, 8 Out Of Ten Cats and Have I Got News For You. There isn’t a single decent sitcom on BBC1. WHY? The genre hasn’t stopped working. Quality hits this decade include Phoenix Nights (C4), The Office (BBC2), Early Doors (BBC2), Gavin & Stacey (BBC3) and Benidorm (ITV).

I like BBC2’s dead-pan Lead Balloon, which stars Jack Dee as selfish, petty-minded comedian Ricky Spleen. Magda, his Eastern European home help, is a joy; she makes the Bank Of England governor look like a somersaulting optimist. The show falls short of Curb Your Enthusiasm which inspired it, but it’s still head and surly shoulders above the dross BBC1 churns out: All About Me, The Wild West, Jam & Jerusalem …they’ve been putting the ‘h’ in sitcoms since 1996. And OK, the Yanks are struggling too, but Two And A Half Men is a Top Ten hit. We haven’t got a sitcom in the Top 70.

The BBC has to take the blame. They’ve forgotten what made their own classics great: cracking scripts, strong casts and A Sense of Reality. Like Victor Meldrew and Norman Stanley Fletcher, David Brent wasn't just funny, he was believable. After You’ve Gone is not. Sitcom writing at BBC1 has become a closed shop; run by snooty graduates with double-barrelled names, and governed by PC considerations, nitwit age targets and dimwit focus groups. It doesn’t work and they need to get it sorted. Re-launching Comedy Playhouse would help. Working class writers created the Steptoes, the Trotters, and the Royles. It’s time to break the grip of the Tristrams and Tarquins and give new blood a chance. Save Our Sitcoms! Show us the funny!

* WHAT a line-up on I’m A Celebrity this year: Brian Pillock, Mr Sulu, Esther Rancid, some WAGs…thank god there’s one strong, masculine girl-hungry contestant. Best of luck, Martina Navratilova!

* Three gay bookings, Nicola McLean after a lesbian fumble…it’s a wonder ITV doesn’t save more dough and relocate the show to Hampstead Heath. I hear that when Biggins saw the line-up he volunteered to go back in.

* THERE was a TV show this week where you had to guess who the mad people were. Haven’t we got this already? It’s called GMTV. Slip backstage after the show and you’d see Fiona being subdued by orderlies with tranquilliser darts and Richard Arnold being coaxed back into his straitjacket.

* YOU know you’re nuts if you watched Horizon How Mad Are You when the new Smallville series was starting on E4.

* HORIZON defined depression as “a long period of profound joylessness”. Doesn’t that pretty much sum up the last 20 years of EastEnders? You don’t have to be mad to watch it. Just to write it.

HOT on TV: Underbelly (FX) – Australian Psychos…Sharpe…Joe Calzaghe outclassing Roy Jones Jnr…Katherine Jenkins…and Anna Crilly as Magda (Lead Balloon). Yis.

ROT on TV: Apparitions – something witless this way comes… Going For Gold – settling for Teflon…A Is For Acid – B is for Bollocks…and The Commander – it’s gone for a Burton.

* THINGS Harry Hill should have picked up on: Prem’s wobbling ear-lobes (Corrie). The miraculous self-filling wine glass on part three of The Commander. And the way Louis Walsh applauds on X Factor – it’s like he’s trying to take off.

* MARTIN Shaw’s Apparitions is appalling medieval mumbo-jumbo. Sorry, the voices in my head made me say that. I couldn’t actually review it without a virgin to sacrifice. And they’re hard to come by in South London.

* TITUS the Gorilla King followed Phil Mitchell’s latest problems on Tuesday: a dumb grunting brute whose life has been dogged by murder, affairs and power struggles. And as I say, after Phil we got to see Titus.

* SUPER gorilla, my arse! At no time did we see that lazy ape even attempt to pick up sticks and drum along to a Phil Collins song.

* SEPARATED at birth: Corrie’s Blanche Hunt and the boss alien on Mars Attacks? One a malicious invader out to cause havoc and destruction, the other a Martian.

* IS it wise for Peter Barlow to get involved with gambling again? He’s already lost his shirt.

* POP-eye is running rings round those factory girls on Corrie. Where’s Red Ida Clough when they need her? (And why hasn’t Janice been banged up and the stolen dosh redistributed?)

* OH cruel deception. Despite the name, Kenwood’s Glamour Puds didn’t feature sexy tubby birds, but some French geezer knocking up a raspberry tart. Let’s see Laura Critchley who sings the theme tune; I’m sure her puds are perfectly rounded.

* DISH of the week? The micro-waved landmine on Spooks. Yum. Perfect chilli con carnage. Best served with a Valentine’s Day Masalla and the crepes of wrath. Christmas dinner must be a blast in that place – they stuff the turkey with Semtex.

* SALLY Morgan started out as “Princess Di’s personal psychic” – which is no great advert. Di had consultations for four years and not once did Morgan say do yourself a favour, dear, steer clear of Paris. Sal’s clients, then: Di, De Niro, Una Thurman; now: Lisa Scott-Lee and Helen Lederer – not going well is it, love?

SMALL Joys of TV: The public winding up self-important talent show judges - keep voting for John Sergeant, the Lard of the Dance. Vince Colosimo (Underbelly). Terry Tibbs (Fonejacker). Gary Beadle (Sarah-Jayne Adventures). And crazed high-speed rock climber Dan Osman (Rude Tube). Tragically, Dan has since died in a mountaineering accident. You don’t say…

* RANDOM Irritations: the disgusting behaviour of MPs when the Baby P case was raised in Parliament. Mariah Carey miming (X Factor), although granted it wasn’t as annoying as Mariah singing. Any romantic scene involving Gail Platt, the Chipmunk of Lurv.

* WHAT’S better advice for a modern pop career? Mariah Carey’s “use the fear”, or Julian Clary’s “use the rear”?

Nov 8. IT was the most exciting election of modern times. But you wouldn’t have known it from the BBC coverage. While Obama made history, David Dimbleby made do, presiding over a shambolic six hour snooze-athon full of fluffs and fumbles. It was like turning electricity into mud. But at least dithering Dimbleby didn’t sink to the level of Laura Kuenssberg in New York. She asked a bemused Ricky Gervais who David Brent would have voted for. “Barack Obama,” he replied flatly, begging the question what’s worse, dumb questions or comedians who can’t be arsed to amuse us? Like Eddie Izzard, who the Beeb also pointlessly wheeled out; presumably because Russell Brand was busy leaving risqué messages on John McCain’s answering machine. Next time send fewer staff and fly economy, and you might have enough dosh to book Lewis Black or P.J. O’Rourke. ITV brought in Jon Culshaw as a talking head. They’d have got more insight from Nookie Bear. Grumpy Gore Vidal was best value; 83, and way past his bedtime, Gore tore into Dimblebore like Blanche Hunt at a Postman Pat convention.

Not everyone on the Beeb underperformed. Matt Frei, Katty Kay and Justin Webb all impressed. But Jeremy Vine and his touch screen graphics – dismissed as a “toy” by Paxman - fell well short of Snow and his old swingometer. John Simpson remains a pompous prig. And British comedians made no impact, which was shaming when you consider the crucial role Yank comics played - from Tina Fey’s spot-on Sarah Palin impressions, to the regular poundings the candidates received on the USA’s late night chat shows. Top pundit was Maureen Dowd on Newsnight. Asked how historic the night was, the New York Times columnist replied: “The first 16 presidents of this country could have owned Barack Obama.” Obama, like Blair, may turn out to have feet of clay. But compared to our elections, the outcome was truly thrilling. For a moment, US voters felt that anything was possible. (Anything…except Charlton avoiding relegation.) Obama offered hope and a fresh start. Vote for change, he said. God, I wish we could.

* GRAHAM Norton: “Obama won the big vote just two days after his grandmother died. Hey, don’t knock it; it works on X Factor.”

* DAVID Letterman: “I think I speak for everybody when I say, anybody mind if he starts a little early?”

* FRANK Skinner: “Robert Mugabe’s a black President. They’re not all good.”

* THE stench of murder hangs over Albert Square again this week. A disturbing crime has almost certainly been committed. I am of course referring to the continued unexplained absence of Corky the parrot. The poor bird hasn’t been seen since the Masoods opened that curry stall. Coincidence? I think not. (See also Wellard, Terence, Albert, Gilbert the chinchilla, and the Slater’s missing cat.) Elsewhere the mystery of who ran over Max the Mekon excites us like the prospect of a Heather Trott striptease. We’re supposed to think it was Jack or Bradley, so obviously we can rule them out. Tanya has got previous, having tried to top Max already. But I’m offering 20/1 on Jeremy Clarkson, 10/1 - any punter fleeing a Jane Beale comedy show, and 2/1-on: Archie Mitchell, who almost certainly did it as one of his cheeky wind-ups. He’s a wag that Archie.

* WALFORD mysteries: how did Jack get his hair cut between leaving the Square and arriving at Walford nick? Why hasn’t anyone told Suzy the floozy that her brother is in intensive care? Where did that bog in the caff come from? How did Ian lock himself in when the buttons are only on the outside? And if Shirley didn’t go to the dogs on Friday, who was in trap five?

HOT on TV: Sharpe’s Peril – bring back Hornblower!...Armistice (BBC4)…Joe Pasquale hosting the O’Grady show…Lee Mack Live…Joe Tracini (Coming Of Age) – real promise wasted.

ROT on TV: GMTV’s election coverage: Get Me The Valium…Mel B hosting Paul O’Grady – like the McCain campaign, hopeless… Robert Elms – tit…Auntie Pam (Corrie) - as credible as the kidnap storyline…and Brucie’s gags (Strictly) – the Antique Jokes Show.

* THE Bill Made Me Famous included Roger Daltrey, Michelle Collins, Todd Carty, Les Dennis, Ray Winstone, Pauline Quirke and Lisa Maxwell…none of whom were made famous by The Bill. We waited in vain for Brad and Angelina. This show’s working title was Cop Idol and the cast got to vote for their all-time favourite Bill character. Rightly it came down to Burnside and Beech –two true stars who are much missed; Don Beech won.

* WHY replace Wossy with old films? There are plenty of cheeky chappies who could do Jonathan’s chat show just as well – Danny Baker, Johnny Vaughan, Paul Ross. But if they’re just after a middle-aged slightly soiled Londoner who sees smut in everything and is happy to brown-nose glamorous actresses, I’m free for the next few Fridays…

* COMING Of Age trailer’: “Do you wanna touch my little white mouse, by which I mean my cock.” More “cutting edge comedy” from the mirth meisters of BBC3.

* WHAT’S happened to Darren Day’s cheeks? Is he storing food for the winter?

* BRUCIE and Wogan should do an internet chat to plug Children In Need. They’d be toupees in a pod....

* HOW about a charity night for soap brats: Children In Need Of A Good Hiding.

* ANY truth in the rumour that David Tennant decided to leave Dr Who when he saw Georgina Baillie plastering the Tardis with her business cards?

* THAT evil bloke on Heroes who mentally controls people like puppets…is he based on Archie Mitchell?

* JOE Pasquale as The Prisoner: Wuss Kemp.

SEPARATED at birth: Gok Wan and Roger from American Dad; one a flamboyant alien creature with a bad attitude who loves to play childish pranks, the other a cartoon.

RANDOM irritations: Dermot promising us “quite literally murder on the dance floor” and not delivering. Big-headed dance dunce Brian Friedman. The Hole In The Wall studio audience – as glum as Daniel Craig’s Bond. Cheer up, folks, this is TV gold! And C4 re-showing the same half-dozen afternoon movies. They’re on so often we know the dialogue better than John Mills.

SMALL joys of TV: CNN's election holograms. Classic Beech and Burnside Bill clips. Simon Cowell boasting that Wishing On A Star was “arguably the best song I’ve ever chosen for Austin” on the night Austin was slung off. Diane Vickers. And Mahone’s revenge on Prison Break – though the torture scenes were nowhere near as stomach-churning as Gretchen snogging the geriatric General.

Oct 31. THE Jonathan Ross/Russell Brand affair went deeper than a few prank phone calls. JR isn’t just a chat-show host; he’s the public face of the BBC. And it’s hard to see what part of “inform, educate and entertain” involves publicly humiliating a much-loved pensioner. This row was really about what the Corporation should stand for. And the answer clearly isn’t schoolboy stunts and anything-goes obscenity. Popular humour was once the lifeblood of the Beeb. But the great legacy of Eric and Ernie, the Steptoes and The Two Ronnies has been squandered by sneering Tristrams who despise public taste. These same self-regarding execs were defending the pair this week, claiming that comedy should push boundaries – as if Russell banging on about his dinkle was the modern day equivalent of Lenny Bruce or Sam Kinison. Chris Rock pushes boundaries, Russell's cock does not. But what about making some room for comics who just want to make audiences laugh without causing upset?

BBC comedy no longer aspires to entertain us all. Now the false god of demographics holds sway. Patronising bilge is commissioned “for the kids.” Take BBC3 sitcom Coming Of Age; this is a show that makes Two Pints look like Fawlty Towers. The humour is crass, crude and lobotomized. And that’s not just my opinion – teenagers I corralled into watching it last week called it “gross” and “embarrassing.” The BBC Trust should be made to sit through it; they would hang the heads in shame. Filth is easy. Clean comedy, apparently, is for squares. If you tried to pitch something like Fools & Horses now you’d never get through the door. BBC1 hasn’t originated a great comedy for decades. Lazy execs, feather-bedded from failure by the licence fee, happily settle for any old bland garbage. They prefer the repetitive, woman-hating, gay-obsessed lavatory humour of Little Britain to real comic invention. Jonathan Ross’s suspension will be good for him. He’s a terrific broadcaster and a giant talent. But he’s been over-indulged and under-produced for far too long. Bob Monkhouse always said of Jonathan: he’s better than this. And he is. He’s smart, funny and quick-witted; an all-round decent bloke who is genuinely contrite about the upset he’s caused. And if the Sachs & The Silly row makes the BBC rethink their approach to comedy, the furore will have been good for all of us.

* JIMMY Carr: “It’s very hard for Jonathan Ross to say sorry. It’s also hard for him to say around the ragged rock the ragged rascal ran.”

* TWAS Halloween week in Walford: scary people, blood-curdling screams, horror and pain…so, pretty much the same as any other week. Young kids were knocking on doors – to some, a bloody nuisance, but to Tony King, free home delivery. Max was a bit run down. And Callum treated Stacey to a few tricks up the allotment sheds (what better place to find a used and slightly damaged hoe?) No sign of Shirley though. She hates Halloween. All those terrifying faces…she can’t stand the competition.

* THAT new Jamaican cop on EastEnders, is he a Scotland Yardie?

* CHIPS dipped in fizzy pop, sausage rolls, fry-ups…I reckon Walford needs a visit from Jamie Oliver. Although I can’t imagine Garry Hobbs knocking up polenta. Or any other woman.

WHAT do we want from awards ceremonies? Stars! Wit! Winners we agree with… Three things the National TV Awards consistently fail to deliver. No funny acceptance speeches, results that were fishier than a sushi restaurant and the likes of Paris Hilton, a spoilt, privileged dimwit with a media career based on an internet sex tape, being wheeled out to present gongs. ITV, you spoil us. Sir Trev’s dead hand on the tiller and his inability to deliver gags, coupled with the usual leaden script, dampened the atmosphere as effectively as a Russian oligarch at a Tory fund-raising party. EastEnders won Most Popular Soap, again – despite regularly getting fewer viewers than Corrie. Katherine Kelly and Michelle Keegan were robbed. The voting system is clearly flawed. Even the nominations are shrouded in mystery. It was absurd that Catherine Tate was in the running for Outstanding Drama Performance. And how much more praise will Simon Cowell get for remembering talent shows? The public never forgot ’em. Memo to ITV: we like gag-telling comedians too.

HOT on TV: TV Burp…zombie horror Dead Set (E4)…Argumental (Dave)…and Squiggle actress Belinda Owusu at the NTAs – don’t she scrub up well?

ROT on TV: John Prescott – no class…Celebrity Scissorhands – like watching hair dye…Griff at the NTAs – as funny as thrush…and Little Britain USA – same crap, different accents.

* HAS John Prescott got a TV future? Yes! He’d be terrific on Hole In The Wall. As would Supermarket Sweep trolley dolly Vikki Thomas. I could never understand why Dale made Vik wear those loose-fitting tops when she’s better stacked than the shelves were.

* ON Argumental opposing sides heatedly debate issues of the day. They don’t really care about the topics, have no principles and change their positions constantly, sometimes in mid-sentence. It’s like the Commons with more jokes.

* SEPARATED at birth: Dot Branning and the Crypt Keeper from Tales From The Crypt. One an ancient, terrifying skull-like creature…the other a 1990s US TV horror import. Runner-up: Richard Fox, he looks like a young Jonathan Ross wearing a false conk. Best keep him away from the phones…

SMALL joys of TV: Barking mad animal clips (Ponderland). Lead Balloon re-runs (Dave), especially Magda. Jon Stewart’s Obama interview (The Daily Show). Johnny Vegas. And Davina savaged by a zombie (Dead Set) – bloody, yes, but still not as painful as watching her chat-show.

RANDOM irritations: That creepy Barry White doll in the pizza ads. The cheesy double glazing salesman grin of Anton DuBeke. The continuity announcer on Alibi who can’t pronounce Dalziel. John Prescott moaning about “the Establishment Class” when he and his mates were the establishment for ten years and betrayed working class voters at every turn.

* RE the rash of comedians making travelogues: why has Julian Clary been overlooked? Surely he'd make a decent fist of it?

Oct 29. Jonathan Ross is a terrific broadcaster and a giant talent. He’s smart, funny and entertaining; an all-round decent bloke. I know he is genuinely contrite about the hurt he’s caused. But he has to be disciplined over those prank calls to Andrew Sachs. JR isn’t just a chat-show host; he’s the public face of the BBC. And it’s hard to see what part of “inform, educate and entertain” involves publicly humiliating a much-loved pensioner. Sacking JR would actually be good for him - he’s been over-indulged and under-produced for far too long. It would sharpen him up, and establish whether any commercial broadcaster thinks he’s worth the £6m a year he currently trousers courtesy you, me and the licence fee. (I suspect not.) Russell’s defenders say that comedy should push boundaries - although Russ banging on about his dinkle isn’t exactly Bill Hicks. At least Mark Steel stands for something. Various Tristrams have been wheeled out to insist that the BBC must do “cutting edge” humour. This would more make sense if a) the phone messages had been funny b) the Beeb's mainstream comedy was any good, and b) BBC3 wasn’t full of crude, puerile garbage masquerading as wit. BBC3 comedy is as cutting edge as a blancmange. I happen to like JR, and Russ, and detest the sanctimonious tub-thumping of the Mail. But in this instance, they’re in the wrong. Their phone prank may have been a moment of madness, but it was also a huge error of judgement which has to be paid for.

OCT 26. NO! Shabnam has left EastEnders for Karachi. She can't be stranded in such a hellish, primitive place…said the Pakistanis. Shabs is a bright, Westernized woman. What has Karachi got for her that Albert Square hasn’t? Well, for starters, washing machines! Culture! A lower crime rate… I’m just relieved the Post Office shut down before any of the dim, local villains worked out it didn’t have a security window. It was the only Walford business that hadn’t been robbed.

In this demented soap, life-changing decisions are made on a whim, and the laws of physics are meaningless. EIGHT people are currently living upstairs at the Vic, and only Peggy’s sharing a bedroom. It’s like the Tardis in there. Elsewhere Jack turned in to Swiss Toni, and Callum claimed he had “moving costs” – howcome? He turned up with sod-all. What’s he got to move?

If the small stuff is baffling, the big stories are bonkers. Jay was so eaten up with hatred this week that he nearly fried Dawn and his baby step-sister alive. Of course! Your Dad died cos he’s a thug; how better to honour his memory than by murdering two people he cared about? Mercifully, Billy nixed Jay’s sick Summer barbecue. But the obnoxious brat had been seconds away from arson. And guess what? Two episodes later they’re all mates again. Dawn forgave him. Jay won’t be charged; he won’t see a shrink; he won’t be punished at all.

That’s how it is in wet, woolly Walford; anything goes as long as you’ve got a story that’d make some soppy social worker’s heart bleed. Forget personal responsibility. It ain’t your fault, son; society’s to blame.

In March, Tanya buried Max the Mekon alive. But it wasn’t her fault, either, apparently. No, it was down to him being a cheating control freak, so no-one mentions it. Not even Max! The work-shy but mysteriously wealthy insurance salesman also forgot to tell his brief that his ex is a lying, scheming tart gets through plonk like Kerry Katona on a medication bender. It’s almost as if her tree trunk legs are hollow. Should we feel sorry for Jay? Of course - but don’t forget he was a mouthy oik with a chip on his shoulder even before his Dad was (understandably) beaten to death for betraying his crime firm. It’s hard to think of a better advert for bringing back the birch.

* ROSIE is still locked in an attic on Corrie. She’s Prisoner Cell Block Stape, the Bird Brain Of Alcatraz. But is John much smarter? What’s point of this kidnapping? What does he want from her? He doesn’t seem to have much of a plan. Only one thing is more mystifying: what the hell does he see in Fizz anyway?

* NEW TV shows, not coming soon: 1) Madonna and Guy in Divorcing With The Stars 2) Is Oleg On The Boat – hilarious antics with George, Mandy and a dodgy yacht off the coast of Corfu 3) Who Wants To Bail Out A Millionaire - hosted by Gordon Brown.

* MATT dreamed the future on Heroes and saw himself married to Daphne, the speedster. It’s a dream many men will have shared. At the risk of lowering the tone, wouldn’t she be the perfect wife? She’s super-fast, so prolonged foreplay would be a thing of the past. Premature ejaculation? Not a problem - you’d never finish quicker than she does. Elsewhere in 2012, fresh heroes abound, created by Mohinder’s serum…even though it’s changed him into a violent, spider-thing with an array of scabs that would turn Anna Richardson green. Best new villain is noxious Knox, who feeds off other people’s fear. Much like the way Gordon Brown seems to grow in stature – or at least cheer up - as the economy plummets.

HOT on TV: Bernard Hill (Sunshine)…Bernard Hopkins out-boxing Pavlik…Fringe (Sky One)…and Summer Glau (Terminator, Virgin1) – sexiest machine since the Aston Martin Rapide.

ROT on TV: Miss Naked Beauty – unashamedly naked tripe…Peaches Geldof: Disappear Here – wish she would…and X Factor – bored with the judges, under-whelmed by the singers; can’t we scrub this series and bring back Rhydian?

* KERRY Katona’s heavily slurring, disorientated appearance on This Morning prompted hundreds of phone calls. Ozzy Osbourne was baffled by the fuss. He understood every word.

* KERRY up-date: Mum’s gone to booze-land.

* WHO prescribes Kerry’s medication? 1) Dr Jim Beam 2) Dr Johnnie Walker…

* HAS Alexandra Armstrong been on Kerry Katona’s medication? He made a proper pig’s ear of hosting Have I Got News For You tripping over his words within moments of it starting. “If you forget next time, it’s written up there for you,” Paul Merton mocked, indicating the autocue.

* GAGS of the week. Andrew Alexander: Obama is now so far ahead in the polls most Americans are asking, will it be a landslide – or will the CIA find another, even more ingenious way to kill him.

JIMMY Carr on the MoD’s UFO files: “I didn’t wanr to admit I’d seen a UFO in case I was branded a nutter,” said one nutter.

* WOMEN Gok Wan should gather together and hose down: Kara Tointon, Holly Willoughby, Gemma Arterton…But let ’em all wear t-shirts.

RANDOM irritations: Dave Walliams comparing Little Britain to The Life Of Brian. Lippy kids in soaps. Live cooking shows as Friday night entertainment. Inspector Frost afflicted with absurd plots and a plodding pace. Dannii Minogue moaning about having to make decisions on the X Factor – that’s the job, love, if you don’t like it quit.

* SMALL joys of TV: Transvestite Wives – hands up everyone who saw Scottish housewife Sheila and assumed that she was the bloke in drag. Rosie Webster - the Great Ex-Stape. The magnificent Les Dawson statue unveiled at Lytham (The One Show). Roll on Benny Hill’s erection.

* HITLER wanted a Nazi TV network. His proposed shows are thought to have included Coronation Strasse, They Think It’s Hanover, Celebrity Scissor Hans, Hess of The Doodlebugs…

* SEPARATED at birth: banker Mart (Jason Watkins) in Wired and Porky Pig. One a pink-faced bore with his snout in the trough, the other a kids’ puppet.

* ANYONE else think that in Paul Daniels’s Tesco ads he looks LIDL?

* BUS passengers were frozen like “mosquitoes in amber” on Fringe. Horrible yes, but still more enjoyable than any trip on the Northern Line.

* RICKY Gervais talks to the dead in his new film. Did he contact Di to apologize for bombing at her memorial gig? Don’t mention that Ghost Town flopped in the US – it’s lost more money than Morgan Stanley.

OCT 19. THE Street left EastEnders choking in its dust this week. They had menace, tension, angst and passion. Walford had Jane doing comedy and Stacy chucking water over Ronnie – two wash-outs for the price of one. On Corrie, the best man lost. Yep, Liam Connor’s a goner – run over by Tony Gordon’s callous henchman. Odd cove, Tony. When he first arrived he was the genial, go-getting Scottish boss of a catalogue lingerie firm. Now he’s more like the Loch Ness mobster – ordering hits, evicting pensioners, stealing pick-up trucks, besmirching the good name of Glasgow Rangers… Unsavoury, yes, but it was only to be expected. The middle classes generally turn out to be wrong’uns in Weatherfield. Serial killer Richard Hillman was a financial adviser; Mad Maya, a solicitor, Alan Bradley a businessman. Next, former teacher John Stape will emerge as Rosie’s kidnapper. Hey Kev, Stape’s in town. Lock up your daughters – before he does… Surely it won’t be long before Ted, an affable cultured man, is exposed as a secret cannibal feasting on the fleshy remains of Sean Tully (who probably tastes like ham, too).

The hectic pace of Corrie’s “Mur-dah” week diverted attention from some unlikely details. 1) Tony apparently has no mates or work colleagues outside of Coronation Street. 2) No-one noticed his day-long repertoire of sinister stares and loaded asides. 3) Cruella Carla invited Leanne to her hen party - the same Leanne who was her dead husband’s whore. Yeah, right. 4) Carla then dumped Liam when she found out Maria was pregnant. Why would she care? a) She hates Maria b) She’s a selfish amoral bitch. Carla covered up the death of immigrant worker Kasia Barowicz without a second thought. She wouldn’t give a flying duck about breaking Maria’s heart. Inevitably Tony will pay for his crime. Corrie men always do. But lately there’s a tendency to let female characters off the hook. Teresa Morton got away with attempted murder. And the only one certain to suffer after Becky’s drunken crime spree is Steve McDonald. You can almost feel the hot breath of Moaning Michelle circling over-head like a vulture waiting to feast on the bones of their doomed relationship.

* SIAN Lloyd was on her back, legs akimbo on Hole In The Wall. Harry Hill observed “I can’t help feeling if she’d done that a bit more often her boyfriend wouldn’t have left her for a Cheeky Girl.” Yes TV Burp is back with Harry on belchingly fine form. In his mad world, naked men running from cops on Frost were coming from John Barrowman’s Torchwood wrap party, and Emmerdale’s Andy Sugden tried to top himself with an over-dose of Tic-Tacs. H spotted the absurdity of Bear Grylls with diarrhoea drinking water from his pants “pretty much the definition of a vicious circle”; and exposed the Bayeux Tapestry cunningly concealed on Carla Connor’s comely thigh. He’s sarky and surreal but always affectionate. Here’s hoping he picks up on ineffective Alasdair on The Restaurant and sex bomb-site Thea on Natural Born Sellers.

* ITV is to market products based on their hit shows. Just think twice before you order that Wire In The Blood slurpee.

* REJECTED ITV merchandise ideas: 1) The Emmerdale rape alarm 2) The Teresa Morton pill OD kit – kills 99% of all known husbands 3) The Michelle Ryan Inflatable Bionic Woman. 4) The Betty Williams 3-speed back-shaver and hot pot ladle 5) The Tony Gordon giant eye spy surveillance kit – she’ll never cheat without you knowing again (cont QVC)

HOT on TV: Peter Kay’s X Factor spoof – he’s still got the laugh factor…Tony Gordon (Corrie) – licensed to kilt…Harry Hill’s TV Burp…Burn Notice (FX)…Bernard Hill…Sarah Silverman…and Frank Skinner Live In Birmingham – forensically filthy.

ROT on TV: lardy Tarby (One Night Only) – lazy and stale…Cracking Up – memo to Alistair Campbell: try belting up …Imagine – Alan Yentob’s ego trip hits a new low…Bobski The Builder…and The Sex Education Show – it certainly taught me a lesson: never expect decent documentaries from C4.

* WIRED was set in the good old days when the banks were flush – September. Phillip, a villain with more fiddles on the go than the London Philharmonic, forced City worker Louise into a major fraud. Why didn’t he just open his own bank, plead insolvency, and get a government bail-out?

* THERE was a griffin on TV last night – a monstrous squawking bird with the body of a beast. But enough about Arlene Phillips…

* JAY keeps rudely abusing Dawn on EastEnders. Don’t worry, love. He’s 14. With his genes, it’s probably a mid-life crisis.

* WHO will be the next comic to land a TV travel show? I hear Alan Carr is holding out for the Horn of Africa.

* RANDOM irritations: Stephen Fry swanning around America – let him pay for his own holidays. Robert Peston’s Dalek drone. No England games on terrestrial TV. And Sky’s admirable anti-knife campaign being fronted by Donal McIntyre – one man half the country would like to stab.

* SEPARATED at birth: Grimly Feendish and Dara O’Briain? One an over-weight, potato-faced slap-head trying to ferment evil; the other a cartoon villain.

* IMAGINE: Dangerous Liaisons was embarrassing tripe. Even Yentob looked bored. You can still see it on-line, though. The BBC iPlayer: making the unwatchable unavoidable.

SMALL joys of TV: Jilly Goolden’s reaction to squirrel pie – bite, chew, heave, run (Britain’s Best Dish). 2 Up, 2 Down (Britain’s Got The Pop Factor). Any abuse aimed at Ashley Cole. Boxing broker David Peters (Greatest Cities Of The World). And Tony Gordon face masks – scarier than Janice out of make-up.

* FHM reckons the bearded George Clooney looks like me. I’ll get back to this just as soon as my missus stops laughing.

* JIMMY Carr: Madonna is actually 50 but she’s got the body of a man half her age.

OCT 12. Sky One’s hot new sci-fi show Fringe kicked off with a plane-load of melting passengers. Horrific yes, but it’s the only way Celeb Air would have been watchable. When Flight 627 from Hamburg touched down at Boston’s Logan Airport, there was nothing left on board except bones. Talk about Queasy-Jet. They were giving out sick-bags to the ground crew. It brought new meaning to the term, skeleton staff, and prompted the question: just how bad was that in-flight entertainment? But on the plus side at least there were no complaints about the food. Cut to foxy FBI heroine Olivia Dunham shagging boyfriend, John. The phone rings with the terrible news and suddenly we’re deep in X-Files territory, facing things that defy all rational explanation. For starters, while taking the call Olivia manages to put on her bra and blouse one-handed in seven seconds flat. Even Fox Mulder wouldn’t have swallowed that.

Naturally she has a tough boss who doesn’t like her; and faces heavy opposition in the shape of Massive Dynamic, who sound like a trip hop band but are actually a sinister US corporation dabbling in scientific badness, evil experiments and Icelandic banking (probably). The manager, Nasty Nina has a bionic arm James May would die for, and her job involves gloriously daft dialogue like: “How long has he been dead?” “Five hours.” “Question him!” Olivia (Anna Torv) seems remarkably gullible. An incontinent boffin, fresh from 17 years in the nut-house, persuades her to strip to her smalls, take LSD and Ketamine, and lay in a rusty floatation tank so she can communicate telepathically with her comatose lover. But it works! Far-fetched yes, but still far more believable than EastEnders. This self-irrigating Einstein is Dr Walter Bishop. And, as John turns out to be a wrong’un, Walt’s renegade son Peter becomes Olivia’s smart and sarcastic crime-fighting partner. She is as trusting as Mulder and he is as sceptical as Scully (see what they’ve done there?) Masterminded by Lost’s JJ Abrams, Fringe is stylish, neatly produced and plugs in to modern concerns like bioterrorism and big business behaving badly. The truth, like the X-Files audience, is out there.

* THE economy is in melt-down, criminally reckless traders are off the hook, and incompetent bankers are getting bail-outs from the public purse whether we like it on not. And what did Dispatches chose to investigate? Lap-dancing clubs! This Bears-Dump-In-Woods exposé found that some dancers will get raunchier for cash. Some even offer “extras”. Well blow me (in a private booth). “You walk in, and five minutes later two girls you hardly know are completely naked in front of you,” said C4’s reporter, adding: “It's quite shocking.” Naked women in a lap-dancing club? Shocking indeed. Naturally his pretend naivety was illustrated by graphic, and heavily repeated hidden camera footage. Hmm. Here’s another scandal for Dispatches to expose. It’s a TV channel, purporting to be a public service broadcaster, which brazenly pumps out free soft porn in direct competition with honest adult channels. It’s called Channel 4 and I know how to find them. Just go to Horseferry Road and follow the smell.

* JAY Leno is having a field day with the banking crisis. “The economy is so bad,” he said, “I saw a guy with a metal detector looking for coins – and he was in a bank…I saw Bill Gates buying Lottery tickets…even the Mob are doing credit checks now.”

* THE funniest thing about the banking crisis? Ken Dodd was right! Leno reckons the world’s most stable bank now is the West Bank. If Mum’s gone to Iceland, it’s to check how much she’s lost. Suzy Branning should never have flogged that gold bar.

* JIMMY Carr: “The housing market is so bad the property ladder’s a snake.”

* FAMILY soap EastEnders showed Christian and Lee vigorously French-kissing in public. Perhaps this happens all the time in Hampstead. Perhaps the BBC’s “Director of Vision” Jana Bennett trots out her kids to give exhibitionist gays a round of applause and an orange to suck at half-time. But carry on like that in the real East End and isn’t it like that you’d get a bucket of water thrown over you? If you were lucky…

* GARRY Hobbs spent the night with Dawn and “didn’t take advantage”. Muppet.

HOT on TV: Burn Notice (FX, right) – I spy quality …Heroes…Fringe –heaving on a jet-plane… Anna Torv – a Fringe benefit…Breaking Bad – another fine meth…Banged Up Abroad….and Prison Break – addictively bonkers.

ROT on TV: Eli Stone – Ally McBilge…Celebrity Dung-Bung – a waste of Alan Carr’s talents; a Carr-crash in fact…Sunshine – Coogan’s duff…Twiggy’s Frock Exchange – frock off…and Psychic Therapy – why didn’t Gordon Smith foresee how balls-achingly dull this was going to be?

* CORRIE filmed three different endings for Liam. But as they all involve him dying, where’s the suspense? Shame no-one thought of option four: Liam gets a personality.

* STEPHEN Mulhern was amazed when ‘psychic’ Sally Morgan mentioned his Dad’s name. How did she know? he gasped. Beats me, mate. It’s not like anyone at ITV would have access to your agent, your biography or your press cuttings.

* PAUL Merton in India, Pasquale in Costa Rica, Griff and Stephen Fry in the US …maybe Judith Chalmers should try stand-up. She couldn’t do any worse than Alexa Chung…

* BIG Cat Live. Not to be confused with Jessie Wallace on Strictly – that’s Big Kat Live & Lumpy.

* ERIC Knowles, describing a female Art Deco figurine on the Antique Roadshow, observed: "She simply shouts period!" Most un-ladylike.

* IF there is a British Style Genius why do some many people dress like tramps?

* SEPARATED at birth: Bruno Tonioli and Topo Gigio? One an irritating rat-like creature, the other a kids’ puppet.

* I WANTED to like Sunshine. Bernard Hill was brilliant, as ever, but Coogan's character Bing was intensely irritating. Dim, treacherous and a bad dad...I couldn't see why Bernadette would have stuck with him; or why we were meant to like him. Losers have to be likeable or why would we care? The show had warmth and buckets of schmaltz but, unfortunately for a comedy drama, very few laughs. The best thing about it was the scam at the end. Unfortunately we’d already seen it on The Sting.

SMALL joys of TV: Frank Skinner’s Bin Laden song. Cyndi Lauper on Graham Norton. New super-baddies on Heroes. EastEnders’ hilarious Children In Need trailer. And Thea (Natural Born Salesmen) being an anagram of hate.

RANDOM irritations: Tess Daly’s fixed grin, she looks like an escort girl who’s far too eager to please. BBC business bod Robert Peston - talks like he’s being strangled and looks permanently worried. Must do wonders for market confidence.

Oct 10: Under the smokescreen of the banking crisis, the European Parliament today voted 1) to formally adopt Beethoven's Ode To Joy as the European 'national anthem'; and 2) for the EU flag to be flown from all parliament buildings. Two moves along the road to their covert goal of imposing “Europe a nation” on us. As you may recall, EU leaders deliberately kept these trappings of nationhood out of the Lisbon Treaty so that they could pretend the Treaty was not about creating a European super-state. But of course it was. This whole process has been planned, and imposed on us, for more than fifty years. At all-times the architects of the new Europe have operated with dishonesty, duplicity and a total contempt for democracy. Machiavelli would have been proud of them.

Oct 5. BOO! Tony had his chance to bump off Liam on Corrie and bottled it. Pop-eyed Tone took his love rival to a perfect murder mystery hotel, got him tipsy and coaxed him into a dangerous cave - just to ask him to be his best man. What kind of revenge is that? The guy sleeps with your wife-to-be and you hit back by exposing him as a poor public speaker? Bah! Of course we know Liam has less chance of delivering the ring than Frodo Baggins. But there’s still a whiff of anti-climax hanging over this week’s episodes - and it’s competing for space with all the disbelief we’ve had to suspend to buy any of it. For starters, we saw several scenes of a Scotsman recklessly buying champagne. Where does that happen? Then there was the Mortons moving to Spain on a whim. Jerry didn’t bother selling his house or business, he just went. Who knew there was so much money in backstreet kebab shops? Janice and Leanne didn’t need to open an account in Dozy Rosie’s name to keep their Lotto win secret. And Liam didn’t need Carla’s £50K either. He’s flush. Pop-Eye paid him more than three times that to buy him out of Underworld, and all Liam has invested in is a juke-box.

But if the Street’s plot lines are as flawed as the global banking system, it’s still a damn sight more watchable than EastEnders, which is equally contrived with none of the excitement. Carla is potentially the best business bitch since Alexis in Dynasty. You can see why Liam, having already enjoyed one successful merger with her, longs to experience sudden liquidity all over again. And the flirtation in her voice when she demanded “a full debrief” showed the attraction is still mutual. Pop-Eye’s vengeance, when it comes, will be spectacular. Liam has less future than Jason and Becky’s relationship. He is a Dead Man Lusting.

* THAT cave was dark, gaping and terrifying. A bit like staring in to the abyss that is Janice Battersby’s gob. What will the gargoyle do with her Lotto dosh? Buy a lack-of-charm bracelet? She certainly doesn’t need bigger turn-ups. Have you seen the size of them? Rosie Webster could be hiding in there.

* AT least Marjorie Dawes was funny. The rest of Little Britain USA stank like a kipper’s privates. Lazy shock tactics and dull new characters make this new series a comedy black hole. Who told Walliams that Bing the boring astronaut was worth screen time? You feel like shaking them and saying “Try harder!” (Harry and Paul too). Once inspired, Lucas and Walliams are now over-praised, over-indulged and under-produced. Their glaringly obvious gags rarely rise above the level of playground graffiti. The Chuckle Brothers look like the Cambridge Footlights in comparison.

* THEY’VE got a new super-villain on Heroes. Dishy Daphne can run so fast, even time-freezing Hiro can’t stop her. She makes Usain Bolt look like Keith Miller. Just think how many carbs Daphne has to consume to expend that much energy. She must eat like Heather Trott with worms, and yet she still looks gorgeous. There’s only one drawback to running this quick. Every day she’d get through five pairs of trainers.

* EVIL Sylar scalped Claire and poked about in her brain on Heroes. Don’t try it with Carla Romano mate, there’s nothing there.

HOT on TV: Breaking Bad (FX) – looking good…Heroes…Simon Amstell (Buzzcocks)…and Natural Born Sellers – ITV’s Apprentice rip-off is quality seconds.

ROT on TV: Dawn Porter, Free Lover – yawn-ography… Beautiful People – hideous script… Little Britain USA – this return’s as welcome as Mandelson’s…Living With Boy George – I could live without him …Richard Wilson (Merlin) – you won’t believe it… and Coming Of Age – stinks like Charles Saatchi on his all-egg diet.

* BIG surprises on Strictly Come Dancing. Who'd have thought Gillian Taylforth would be the first woman to go down? Craig Revel Horrid said she was “a bit rough around the edges” to which a million viewers replied “Yes but what about the dancing?”

* SOME people expand their horizons after leaving EastEnders, with Jelly Wallace it’s just her arse. Good to see she isn’t a one-trick pony, though. More like a cart-house.

SMALL joys of TV: Archie’s footsteps on Monday’s EastEnders – it sounded like he was wearing sling-backs. The flying car (James May’s Big Ideas). And Thea on Natural Born Sellers – a wonderful grotesque, completely devoid of self-awareness; Thea gurns like Wallace & Gromit’s tortoise.

* RANDOM irritations: Weeping wallies on X Factor – men their age face mortar fire in Afghanistan without complaint and these twerps sob over a TV talent show. Grow up! Merlin – through the alchemy of BBC1, see the magic of the Arthurian legends turned into sh**e. And Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen’s ancestry – who gives a toss? The man is as pointless as the Lib-Dims. His folks could be spaniels crossed with Regency fops for all I care.

* NO sign of the credit crunch in Walford. Callum turned down a grand, Brad casually bet £10K on the gee-gees. They’ve always got money to burn on ’Enders. Billy gave away Jase’s filthy lucre, Stacy turned her nose up at Max’s £40K... It’s a sure sign the people writing this garbage have never gone without in their lives.

* SEPARATED at birth: Tony, EastEnders paedo, and Cartoon Head from Ideal.

* TONY’S top three Vic juke-box picks: ‘Young Girl’ – Gary Puckett, ‘Jailbait’ – Wishbone Ash; ‘Girl, You’ll Be A Woman Soon’ – Neil Diamond.

* NASTY Nick is coming back – yeah, that’s all we need, another two-dimensional cartoon goon in the Square.

* QUESTION for Raymond Blanc: If a wine waitress gives you wine and a bread waitress gives you bread, why doesn’t the head waitress make you happier?

* PIERS Morgan interviewed Tracy Emin. How has this charmless charlatan got away with it for all these years, thought Tracy.

Sept 28. SURELY Amy Connolly will win The X-Factor. The 18-year-old blonde from Watford has it all: the tragic back story, the girl-next-door good looks and a voice that’s mature, controlled and note-perfect. Amy’s heartfelt version of Faith Hill’s ‘There You’ll Be’ last weekend reduced Cheryl to (genuine) tears. Dannii liked it too but it was hard to tell. Her face is incapable of registering emotion. You could stick Dannii’s left breast in a box full of angry wasps and she’d still look blanker than the cheque Bush wants Congress to write for Wall Street.

Amy’s performance catapulted Faith’s hit back into the download charts and lit up dollar signs in Simon Cowell’s eyes. She has real competition though, notably from Rachel Hylton, Hannah Bradbeer and Laura White. Odds are two of them will end up in the final. The problem is we have to sit through months of eliminations before we get there…

Boot camp marks the transition from X-Factor’s good bit – desperate wannabes, deluded fools and rubbish auditions – to the long often tedious drag of ‘Abba week’ and the rest. My patented X-Factor drinking game will get you through it, though - just neck a shot of the hard stuff every time one of the judges says “You nailed it”, “You owned the stage” or “You made that song your own.” And wash it down with a beer chaser whenever a contender declares “I want this so much” or “It’s been a roller-coaster ride” or “I’ve been on a journey.” It’s fashionable to sneer at X-Factor. It’s a well-oiled Panzer tank of a show: brutally cynical, dishonest and manipulative. Some contenders are more suited to a psychiatric ward. And we know previous losers are coaxed back on to the show to cop another bucket-load of prime time dream-crushing rejection. But those who complain about it are idiots. This is television, this is what it does. X-Factor in particular is fuelled by humiliation, insincerity and X-ploitation. The bottom line though is it is frequently hilarious. Ant and Seb, dreadlocked Ariel and Holly “the Horror” Jervis cheered up a dreary summer. The joy of Guylene “singing notes that have never been invented” more than makes up for the irritation of endless Westlife on the soundtrack. The wait for a series showcasing bands and singers who write their own material continues.

* RANDOM irritations: David Blaine hanging upside down. Can’t we hang him by the neck for wasting our time? Or better still string up a few parasite speculators. Andrew ‘Comb-over’ Neil gets my goat too. His face looks like it gets spanked daily with a fistful of spam.

* JAY Leno on the fat cats’ financial crisis: “Here’s how it works: when you screw up, you pay. When they screw up, you pay.”

* LET me know when Tony is out of EastEnders please. I can’t stand this toxic creep. Has there ever been a duller soap villain? He’s like a black hole in human form. Even his ears annoy me. Are they so big and red cos Whitney’s been hanging off them? Torpid Tone manages to outdo Stacey in the glum stakes. When he was little his local park had mood swings. Tony has a lot of time on his hands now, but hopefully he’ll have more soon - ten years in Belmarsh.

* POISON prawns, paedophilia and guns without triggers; if ever a show was in need of an HBOS style rescue package it’s this one.

* YOU know what makes me angry, Griff Rhys Jones? A former comedian turned professional smug git persuading the BBC to commission his own production company to make two hour-long documentaries about him and his temper. Who gives a rat’s arse if Griff loses it morning, noon and night? He could have the disposition of Caligula with a toothache for all I care. What matters more is that he hasn’t been funny for at least ten years, that he’s a lousy interviewer, and that the resulting programme was patchier than a convention of pirates. Besides Griff is a famous, public school educated millionaire. What’s he got to be angry about?

* THINGS that make me seethe: Griff wheeling out two-faced hypocrite George Galloway as the spokesman for “righteous indignation.” Cosy, kid-glove analysis of political conferences. Taxpayers having to fund S4C – half a billion quid to date. Let Welsh speakers pay for their own gibberish.

HOT on TV: Lost In Austen finale…Place Of Execution … Fonejacker (E4)…schoolgirl actress Lois Edmett (Poirot)…Stephen K Amos…and Celebrity Adrenaline Junkie – let Jack Osbourne run the next jungle challenges, ITV.

ROT on TV: The Family… Losing It – does the title refer to Griff’s temper or his comedy career? … Michelle’s return (Corrie) – she sucks the life out of the soap...and EastEnders – and you thought Beijing had a thick, nasty atmosphere.

* ARE celebs booked for Hole In The Wall on the basis of how daft they’d look in lycra? Vanessa resembled an over-stuffed oven-ready turkey in Bacofoil. Bring on Supernanny! Slam in the (Amy) Lamé!

* JIMMY Carr on Clarkson: “He’s aged badly. He’s gone from nought to 60 in 45 years.”

* ITV's afternoon line-up: Sixty Minute Makeover followed by the Alan Titchmarsh Show – otherwise known as the Sixty Minute Sleepover.

SMALL joys of TV: hefty Helga sent flying on American Gladiators. Cops singing the Pogues’ ‘Body Of An American’ at McNulty’s fake-wake leaving do (The Wire). Balloon-popping Mike Phelan making Fergie jump (Sky Sports 1). Rosie’s corset (Corrie). June Brown (EastEnders) – make her a dame. And Right Said Fred’s Richard Fairbrass on The Daily Politics, although he failed to condemn ID cards as “deeply dippy”.

* ROBSON Green Extreme Fishing… does he use body parts from Wire In The Blood for bait?

* STEPHEN K. Amos sparkled on For One Night Only, but amiable Mark Watson seemed to just give up and shuffle off. Neither comic was side-splitting. Why not use proven talent like Adrian Walsh? Comedy: it’s no job for a novice either.

* THE Blue Goose team were well and truly ducked on The Restaurant. Surely the Welsh Wok will be wolling out next? Peter’s chances of winning are thinner than Lindsay’s lips.

* QUESTIONS: why aren’t the US Republican candidates known as Ailin’ and Palin? Technically, should Belle’s punters on Secret Diary of a Call-Girl be known as Billie-pipers? Why don’t Luton Town sign Eskimo strikers? They need men who can play at minus 20.

Sept 21. WE’RE supposed to be cutting down on the use of plastic bags, aren’t we? So why book Joan Rivers to co-host For One Night Only? Rivers made a complete pigs’ ear out of it, which, ironically are what her lips are probably made of these days. First she did two of Bob Monkhouse’s most famous gags and mucked them up – her face would have fallen but the staples behind her lug-holes kept it in place. Then she turned the show’s grand finale into amateur hour. All night long Rivers and Vernon Kay had been boasting that ITV’s new live variety show would end with “something insanely special…something absolutely unmissable.” It turned out to be a mediocre version of a song from Chicago and an under-rehearsed magic trick which Rivers ruined. At one stage she appeared to have four hands - the only show of hands she deserved.

The caustic Joan of the 1970s would have slaughtered the gaga old dame we saw on our screens. She’s 75 trying to look forty, pumped full of Botox; her face stretched so tight she resembles a wax-work in a wind tunnel. Rivers now is like some addled old bag-lady, regurgitating the same tired digs about Katie Holmes and Angelina. But it’s not entirely her fault. What was the producer thinking? Why have Rivers and Kay perform a magic act? They’re not magicians. She’s a potty-mouthed comic past her prime. He’s a gormless gurner whose talents begin and end at reading an autocue. Nice bloke, but he’s not variety.

Why not book entertainers who know what they’re doing as hosts? Brian Conley was superb at his last Royal show. There’s Bradley Walsh, Bobby Davro, Lee Mack, Mark Walker…people who were born to perform. The only amazing act on this bill was Lazaro, the contortionist. Boyzone would have been a great booking in 1999. Comedian Milton Jones had some neat lines but why bill him as “top new talent”? Milton won the Perrier in 1996. He’s been going since before Vernon hit puberty. Britain has scores of brilliant performers, but TV doesn’t know what to do with them. The art of producing variety died with David Bell. Nigel Lythgoe could do it, but we’ve lost him to US telly. Reinvent variety? This show is more likely to be the final big, rusty nail through its heart.

* ODD. The anagram of Vernon Kay is exactly how you should greet him in the street: “Yo! Vannker!”

* NOEL Edmonds announced he has two bouncing orbs constantly on his shoulders. Peter Andre said: “Tell me about it.”

* MOST of the charges directed at Jim Davidson on The Dark Side Of Fame carry as much weight as Lehman Brothers stock. ‘Homophobic’? Brian, Jim’s gay dresser, lived in Jim’s house with him for three years. When Brian had a stroke Jim looked after him and quietly paid for his hospital treatment. Snooty pundit Kevin O’Sullivan claimed Jim had “failed to adapt” his act – odd from a man who’s failed to adapt his hairstyle since 1989. And also quite wrong. Live, Davidson is one of our sharpest observational comedians: raw, filthy, and hilariously controversial. He stopped doing Chalky gags 15 years ago. To claim “the nation turned against” Jim after Hell’s Kitchen when his next tour sold out is liberal baloney.

* WITLESS Whitney is rehearsing ‘Romeo & Julie’ with her paedo step-dad on EastEnders. Imagine that: “O Romeo, Romeo, why-for art thou up the Brownies hut again, Romeo?” BBC1 justify this sick storyline by saying “it happens”. But a lot of things happen in real life that we don’t see in Walford. People stay faithful, crack jokes, smile; some even commute to work. And if Toxic Tony was caught fiddling with Whitney in the real East End, he’d get the kicking of his life.

HOT on TV: The Wrong Door (BBC3) – crackling with comic imagination…Al Murray…Entourage…No Heroics (ITV2) – potentially super-funny…Massive (BBC3)…You’ve Been Framed Funniest 100.

ROT on TV: The Family – makes EastEnders seem uplifting…I Want To Work For Diddy – not a jam butty mine in sight…All-Star Family Fortune – bring back the everyday families…The Sex Education Show – as much fun as syphilis.

* PEOPLE were severely hacked off on Wire In The Blood last week – in fact four poor sods were cut up alive. The killer turned out to be a therapist. Of course! It’s always the middle class professional who dunnit on TV. Expect a plague of marauding investment bankers any day now.

* MEMO to The Restaurant’s sexy Sarah Willingham: I’m on Britain’s Best Celebrity Dish shortly, could you pop round and rate my plating-up techniques?

* WHO does Piers Morgan’s make-up, Krusty The Clown? He’s yellow from the cheeks up. His chin’s bright pink. And some evil swine’s paralysed his forehead with Simon Cowell’s left-over Botox.

* RANDOM irritations: Merlin reinvented as a back-packing teen. Grown men weeping (who aren’t bankers). And Biggins. He used to be a decent actor, now he’s just a professional fat buffoon.

* MERLIN had magic, telekinesis and a dragon, but the biggest fantasy was King Uther’s multi-ethnic court. What? In the fifth century? Gertcha.

* ON Merlin, a hideous witch put the King to sleep by singing. I believe her coven name was ‘Celine.’

* DALE Winton’s commitment to quality TV knows no bounds. The man who gave us Supermarket Sweep, Pets Win Prizes and Touch The Truck has surpassed himself with Hole In The Wall. This mad show, which forces d-list celebs to fit through differently shaped holes or get dunked in to a pool, is guaranteed a place in future TV Hell compilations. Some say we need this kind of telly like we need a hole in the head, I say it’s a kind of genius. Maybe.

* SMALL joys of TV: Noel pulling out the stops for Royal Marine hero Matt Croucher (Noel’s HQ). Holly Willoughby – wholly wonderful. And Sheree Hewson getting smashed into a swimming pool on Dale Winton’s barking mad Hole In The Wall.

* Please note: George Michael’s hole in the wall game is quite different.

* BRUCIE has met with the Pope. Did he ask: “What do Pontiffs make? Prizes!” Or just suggest a quick game of Play Your Cardinals Right? They must have had plenty to talk about. It’s not every day His Holiness meets someone who went to school with Moses.

Sept 14. JASON from Footballers’ Wives turned up as maverick cop Chris Collins on Wire In The Blood. He was heavily in to S&M; games with dishy divorcee Colette. He cuffed her, kissed her and before she knew it a police chopper was hovering over her head… She didn’t come quietly. At one stage, the romantic fool broke in to her house wearing a rape-mask. Talk about PC gone mad. We’re probably meant to think he is the mystery man who abducted Colette at the end of the episode. Not unusually for Bradford, someone has been kidnapping, torturing and killing folk…which must do wonders for house prices. The first corpse was a dismembered Kurdish prostitute left in a suitcase. Her Dad was pretty cut up about it. But not as much as his daughter. Plod would be as stumped as the victim if it wasn’t for clinical psychologist Tony Hills. This semi-autistic genius gets into the bad guys’ heads with uncanny accuracy. Useless DI Alex can’t interrogate a suspect without Tone telling her what to ask.

He found a lake containing more cases. It wasn’t Terminal 5’s lost luggage. Three more partially dismembered bodies were inside. Hills also worked out the torture angle which led the cops to raid an S&M; party straight out of a C4 sex education show. Run by Elektra, a foxy dominatrix with a prosthetic hand, it was the sort of place where a simple question like “Do you like Spurs?” could get you in all kinds of trouble. All we know is the killer is a sadist who feeds his victims gourmet cooking before cutting off their limbs and slaughtering ’em. So is he a TV chef? A rogue Paralympics scout? Colette’s “weirdo” ex-husband? Or some middle class professional we’ve seen but don’t yet suspect? (They’re generally the wrong’uns in TV dramas.) Human butchery has become a staple of ITV crime shows; the good, the bad and the offal. Robson Green as Hills makes this better than most, but Wire lacks the dark humour and charm of Dexter. The blood and gore seems like a substitute for depth. The best US shows feature more rounded characters and more complex relationships. ITV hit the mark with Cracker, but have yet to surpass it.

* DUNCAN Bannatyne’s alleged sex-life brings new meaning to his catchphrases. “Let me tell you where I am.” That’s OK, Dunc, we’ll guess - is it in the bedroom with your dick out again? Judging by the pictures, his interest in dragons extends well beyond his TV show.

* NINE couples competed to take over eight restaurants on The Restaurant. Shame the Beeb doesn’t approach Strictly Come Dancing the same way: sixteen female dancers, fifteen gowns…first come, first served. “Sorry Kristina, too slow, love; so tonight you’ll be performing in your under-crackers…” Male viewing figures would shoot up. Although the strain on John Sergeant’s heart may prove fatal. Poor old Tarby took one look at Flavia in her sparklies last year and pulled out with palpitations.

* THE Restaurant served up: cocky kick-boxer James who cooked his spuds in water that tasted of detergent. (Chef’s Special? No he’s not!) Helen and Steve, whose “fruity Frisbees for kids” are surely destined to redecorate their walls within days of opening. And airline cabin crew Richard and Scott whose signature dish was pea-soup in a loaf of bread. Peas off! What a bloomer. No wonder Raymond Blanc got a cob on. First out? Annette and Kashelle who served tinned mango puree with cream. Popping out for a bag of chips would have taxed them more.

* MICHELLE dubbed her restaurant “The Cheerful Soul.” The R. Soul is already trademarked by Jamie Oliver. Why isn’t the Chinese-Welsh couple’s place called the Chow Mine?

HOT on TV: Raymond Blanc and his sidekicks (The Restaurant) – deadlier than Sugar… Holly Willoughby (The Xtra Factor – lucky extra)…new Entourage (ITV2)…Al Murray…Lost In Austen… …and Vietnam Battle Stories (Nat Geographic) – living history.

ROT on TV: EastEnders’ ‘Gary Glitter’ plot – as welcome as a gas boss at a pensioners’ party…Deborah Meaden – Gollum in a frock…Secret Diary of A Call-Girl - no sex, no point…A Number – yeah, a big fat zero…Celeb Air – Terminal Bore…and Piers Morgan – no wit, no insight, just pure ego.

* RE John’s “leg-over poetry” on Corrie, here’s what he meant to say: “Come on Fiz/Let’s do the biz/And settle down all cosy/Despite your size/I’m bound to rise/Cos I’ll be thinking hard of Rosie.”

* CHECK out the finger-nails of that geezer on the Calgon ads. They’re immaculate. If he’s a plumber I’m nailing Sarah Palin.

* OBAMA reckons you can put lipstick on a pig, but it’s still a pig. Easy to say, but at least Zak Dingle’s tried it.

* WHEN boffins switched on the ‘Big Bang’ machine on Wednesday, was I alone in wishing Beadle were still alive to creep up behind them and pop a balloon?

* IS Matthew Wright flogging season tickets to his show? Most of that audience are there day in, day out. Are they fans, or is just somewhere to shelter from the rain when the soup kitchen’s shut?

RANDOM irritations: Russell Brand’s dire, misjudged performance at the VMAs. Lewis Hamilton robbed of victory (Belgian Grand Prix). The fact that we can watch Angus Deayton playing football on mainstream telly, but not the England game. The song ‘Hero’ playing under an act of mundane efficiency (Celeb Air). And “comedian” Amy Lamé – when has she ever been funny?

* PIERS Morgan’s interviewing skills remain as unproven as Higgs’s Boson. His charmless chat with Pamela Anderson mixed lechery with hypocrisy. Highlight? Pammy clearly forgetting they’d ever met.

* TOP three babes vying to inherit Pam’s throne: 1) Audrina Partridge (The Hills) 2) Kimberly, Pussycat Dolls 3) Imogen Bailey (Neighbours).

SMALL joys of TV: Rick Sky’s wig on The Dark Side of Fame – even dafter than Piers. Ainsley’s reaction to finding out an ancestor was a white slave owner. Paul Kaye as evil Dr Wasabi (Chop Socky Chooks). Jamelia’s smile. Hoodies (Harry & Paul). And that woman with the cleavage Ian Beale was spying on – sign her up, Enders!

Sept 7: PRISON Break is back, and it makes as much sense as Lily Allen at an awards ceremony. Don’t get me wrong. I love this show, but it’s now so far beyond crazy that even Jean Slater might notice. For starters, Sara, who was beheaded last series, is alive again. T-Bag, the friendly neighbourhood psycho, has turned cannibal, prompting the classic line: “What’s wrong, man, you eat some bad Mexican?” And our hero Michael Scofield has had all his tattoos removed. In one sitting. Without anaesthetic. And without leaving a single scar… Scofield had the blueprint of Fox River penitentiary inked on his body to spring his brother Linc (framed for murder) in series one. But after that, his tatts became redundant and to save the make-up ladies any bother he did all his porridge in the sweltering heat of Panama’s Sona Prison covered up like a Saudi housewife. At the start it was possible to enjoy Prison Break as great escapist drama. Now it’s like the ravings of an acid-dropping paranoiac. The premise is more stretched than Reed Richards. Scofield’s gang, which currently includes ex-screw Billick and pill-popping FBI nutcase Malone, have become the A-Team. Their freedom depends on them working for Homeland Security to bring down The Company (a sinister mob of super-rich fat-cats.) Confused? Why wouldn’t you be?

Scofield spent all last series trying to break the mysterious Whistler out of Sona for these goons. Evil Gretchen kidnapped his nephew and apparently decapitated Sara (we all dreamt of her giving head but not like that). Now Whistler, who had all their dirty secrets on a memory card, has been shot dead; perhaps permanently. And agent Don Self wants our heroes to find it so he can drive The Company into permanent liquidation. Only there isn’t one card, there are six, which takes care of the next few episodes. Self has teamed them up with a wiz-kid hacker whose handy hi-tech devices would impress Lex Luthor. Their enemies include: Wyatt, the Company’s callous new hit-man. T-Bag - Michael needs the bird book he stole from Whistler. So let’s hope T memorized the pages he ate. Possibly Gretchen, if she doesn’t change sides. And the writers, may they never sober up. Phew. No wonder Michael’s nose is bleeding.

* ITV’s last plane-related format threw celebrities out at 10,000 feet – a fate richly deserved by the comically useless has-beens and never-weres of Celeb Air. Without a parachute. It comes to something when Chico is the biggest star you can muster. (At first I thought they’d signed up Meatloaf but that turned out to be Amy Lamé.) Who cares if Mica Paris can push a trolley or Lisa Scott-Lee can pour champagne? Doling out hot towels is the only way these losers will ever see first class. ITV should have booked Jodie Marsh. At least then there was a chance of a quick “Roger and out.”

NORMAL trumped freak on Big Brother as the nice girl won. Kind-but-dull Rachel beat shouty blind transvestite Mikey, whose unpleasant personal habits included washing his cock in a drinking glass (Darnell needed a yard of ale). Fewer people watched this living soap this year, but BB9 still unearthed classic characters like the Brent-like self-deluded Mario and his doll-faced, alien-loving moll Lisa. My top five magic moments were: 5) Sylvia waking up Stuart to tell him to stop flirting with her. 4) Mikey and Darnell performing ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart’. 3) Rex’s Scrabble remark. 2) The smudged picture row. And 1) Stuart diving into the crowd – and no-one catching him. Tit.

* LIFE for Amanda Price is as frustrating as getting stuck behind Big Bro’s Mo at an all-you-can-eat buffet. Her job is dull, her boyfriend’s a slob. Her only escape is Jane Austen’s novel Pride & Prejudice… until a hidden door behind her shower takes Amanda back to the late 18th Century where she finds herself trapped in chapter one. She’s Lost In Austen - a bit like Jean-Luc Picard during a holodeck malfunction. Or Jasper Fforde’s Lost In A Good Book…or indeed Sam Tyler stranded in The Sweeney in Life On Mars. It’s not my cup of tea, I’m more a Reign In Spillane kind of guy. But it’s done with charm and style. And if it gets the audience it deserves, who knows what spin-offs it could inspire. How about All Well In Orwell: modern bloke wakes up in a grim surveillance society which is constantly at war and where nobody dares to say what they really think. Oh, hang on…

HOT on TV: Ross Kemp On Gangs…Sophie Winkleman (Harry & Paul)… American Gladiators…The Children…and Vanessa Williams (Ugly Betty).

ROT on TV: Celeb Air – a one-way ticket to TV hell…Waldemar Januszczak – a boil on the arse of British television…When Women Rule The World – as pointless as Macclesfield…Eurovision Dance Contest…and Secrets Of The Jesus Tomb – biggest secret? Jesus wasn’t in it.

* GARRY Hobbs turned down a drunken Dawn on EastEnders. No wonder this week we saw her crying for a rabbit… WHY would Garry do that? Yes, Dawn’s grieving, but Garry’s an opportunist. He doesn’t do sensitive. He would have grabbed a bereavement shag with both hands. The reason he didn’t? A woman wrote that episode.

* MORE realism in Brad’s instant Bond party. Within hours the club was transformed into Pinewood and suddenly Brad (Dr No Mates) was Mr Popularity. Guests came as Bond characters, but sadly there was no Holly Goodhead (Kath), Honey Rider (Billy – unseated) or Plenty O’Toole (Phil Mitchell, by all accounts.) Apparently Brad got the idea from Dirty Den - You Only Live Twice.

* HONEY’S left then. Poor Billy. He’d be a broken man, if he’d had anything to break in the first place.

* NEXT week scientists will recreate the beginning of time. They hope to discover new dimensions, find out what dark matter is and witness the birth of Ken Barlow…

RANDOM irritations: Corrie plots – “the worst in fifty years” (A. Darling). Gordon Brown’s stamp duty ruse – your duty is to stamp on his head. (Metaphorically, of course.) Simon Nye reviving Rising Damp. Simon, why? And Dermot Murnaghan asking “Can anyone beat them?” at the start of every Eggheads. They have been beaten! So either Der-brain has not paying attention or he has short term memory loss.

SMALL joys of TV: Vernon’s ‘Mason’s Arms’ song (Corrie). Gladiators: The Legends Return. Dean Gaffney in the Daz ad. And Kat’s rendition of, 'If you're happy and you know it crap your hands...' (BB9)

* DUNNO what ex-Gladiator Rocket’s been eating, but it’s a fair bet it’s not salad. That girl’s gone up like a rocket to Venus.

Aug 30. WELL done Darnell, you idiot. You’ve just kissed goodbye to any chance you had of winning Big Brother. By turning on Sara, calling her a “slut” and an “ugly bitch”, the one-time favourite has made himself as popular as Gary Glitter at a school swimming gala. His kiss and make-up session on Friday was too little too late. It didn’t make sense. It’s not like Sara was carrying on like Sienna Miller or anything. All she did was turn him down. Besides, if the Aussie flirt really had slept with “4,000 men” as Darnell claimed and still wouldn’t let him have a go, what did it say about him? That he’s an 18-carat loser, as socially inept as Mr Bean; that he couldn’t pull in a brothel; and that those Vegas-style one-arm bandits are the only loose slots he’ll ever get close to. What a jerk. Now Mikey is the only bloke in with a real shot at victory next Friday – which is depressing for all of us in the Anyone-But-Mikey camp. In fairness he did play a blinder as a Kiki Dee. It’s a miracle Darnell didn’t make a move on him (before dissing him as a cock-teasing slag.) But Mikey remains a creepy, sprout-spewing, snot-gobbling, knicker-nicking minger. The producers clearly wanted doll-faced Lisa to win. She’s been entertaining, with her demented tales of ghosts and aliens. But two things played against her 1) Sara’s sympathy vote 2) The knowledge that by voting for Lisa we’d also get more Mario. There was never any likelihood of her double-crossing Sara in Wednesday’s tension-free Prisoner’s Dilemma. Big Bro should have engineered it for slippery Rex and greedy Mo to have gone toe-to-toe; that contest would have gripped like Iron Man lifting magnetic weights. Rex’s arrogance is a turn-on for some women, but Nicole nobbled him good and proper. He won’t win and there’s more chance of Boris Johnson out-sprinting Bolt in 2012 than of Darnell doing so. Which leaves Happy Kat, happy-slappable Mo, and Rachel. Nice, ordinary Rachel. A woman so dull you may not even have noticed she’s there. If she triumphs, it’ll be a smack around the chops for TV’s tedious culture of show-offs, freaks and rent-a-loons. Not voting at all would hurt a damn sight more, though. I understand Law & Order: SVU is on Five…

* DARNELL rehearsed for his performance as Elton John by bending over his bed with his tracksuit bottoms down. Nothing like a bit of method acting to get into a role.

* SO let’s get this straight. It’s Dawn’s fault that Jason got killed on EastEnders. Her crime was to want a better life. The writers stripped her firstly of friends, and secondly of her dignity (tragically forgetting thirdly of clothes). Dawn spent her hen night, absurdly, in her £1690 wedding dress being lectured by Shirley the lush. “You are the sum of what you buy,” she sneered; which by my reckoning makes Shirl two parts vodka, one part gin and three parts Mad Dog 20/20. “You used to be one of us,” she went on - the “us” presumably being that community of selfish tarts who desert their children, and drop more flies than a bug-zapper, but don’t commit the cardinal sin of wanting to move to Essex. EastEnders, written mostly by middle class graduates, hates working class aspiration. “Oi plebs,” it says: “Know your place!”

* MESSAGE for Billy Mitchell: 1979 called, it wants that Harrington jacket back.

* KATE Spicer spent thousands on cosmetic surgery in Super Botox Me. Shame she didn’t put a few bob aside to do her hair. The transformation shocked her, but due to the Botox you couldn’t tell.

HOT on TV: Michael McIntyre…The Wrong Door (BBC3) – mad, inventive, funny…Perry Fenwick (Enders)…Bob Hoskins…Headwreckers…and Jerry Springer’s Who Do You Think You Are – genuinely moving.

ROT on TV: Margi Clarke (Corrie) - sucks like a calf at Kate Garraway’s teat…the Olympic hand-over – as reassuring as a Ryan Air flight-crew in a nose-dive … Hairy Bakers – master bakers more like…Slaterwood – comedy drab…and London 2012 Party – messier than Davina’s Wednesday night hair.

* ON Stargate Atlantis an infected Dr Jennifer started sprouting plant tendrils…which posed important questions, like where does she get her roots done? Would she ever do Page Tree? And when will she get her log over? She looks like she’d have a way with your wood.

* INSULT of the week, Dexter’s sister Deb calling Lila a “gross, English, titty vampire.” Fangs for the mammaries.

* JIMMY Page, Leona Lewis, Beckham…would it have hurt to have had Blakey pop up on our Olympic bus too? The world would have been baffled but half of Britain would still be laughing.

* THE umbrellas were a nice touch. What did that say? Come to London, it’ll bucket down.

* RANDOM irritations: Masterchef: The Professionals – no Bodie, no Doyle, and no-one gets shot. Michael Roux – insipid (and yellow enough for the Simpsons). Davina’s bin-bag dress - the contents need recycling. Jackie Dobbs – all Corrie needs, another monstrous self-centred boiler.

* SMALL joys of TV: Beer fairies (The Wrong Door). Bradley Walsh. The singing dingo (A Man & His Dogs). Simon Cowell describing So Precious as “like stepping on two cats”. And The Churchill Insurance ad, which appears to feature Sian Lloyd feeding the bulldog what may be Lembik Opik's barbecued dick.

* SEPARATED at birth: US Democrat James Clyburn and ITN’s Trevor MacDonald?

* “SEE-through blouses are back,” a posh fashion expert told Benny Hill. “I’ll look in to that,” he replied (Best of Benny Hill).

* HOT not on TV: the Grumbleweeds on YouTube, perfect for Saturday night telly.

* BUSHELL’S Babes is re-running on tvx: The Fantasy Channel. This in-depth lap-dancing investigation makes harrowing viewing. Some of these poor girls are so hard-up, they still have their own breasts.

Aug 24. WHO wears a suit and tie to be interviewed for a road-sweeping job? Who feeds a dog chocolate with the wrapping paper on? What kind of pea-brained moron pretends to have a butler while living in an East End hovel? Welcome to Walford, land of dog post mortems and instant market stalls acquisitions, where strangers waltz into jobs and accommodation_ And if the small elements add up as well as a flustered Honey Mitchell on Countdown, then what chance have the big storylines got? Say you had a dodgy gold bar, would you a) bury it in a public place? Or b) stick it in a safety deposit box? If you were Phil Mitchell, would you a) hide it badly in a beer cellar used by bar staff and accessible from the street? Or b) put it in your safe? If your answers were both a, congratulations, you too could be an EastEnders writer, no knowledge of life or Londoners required.

The idea that neither Phil nor his contacts knew how easy it is to shift stolen gold doesn’t just defy credibility; it beats it into a bloody pulp. As for Jase, if you were planning to illegally relieve a lump of £100K would you really want Billy ‘The Jinx’ Mitchell as your get-away driver? This guy is so unlucky he makes Jonah seem blessed. His wife is gorgeous but she’s as thick as Chris Hoy’s thighs. His daughter is Downs Syndrone. He can’t hold down a job or, uniquely for a Mitchell, hold up his fists. If Billy met the Dalai Lama, he’d mug him. The hit is planned for tomorrow, the day before Jase’s wedding. So Jase clearly has all the long-term prospects of Bradley’s marriage. Ho hum.

EastEnders was originally built around the Fowlers and the Watts, solid families drawn from reality. We recognised their dramas, traumas, hopes and dreams because they were our lives too. Not any more. Now the Square is awash with never-mentioned sisters and cousins. There’s a new girl in the Square, teenage Danielle, so whose long-lost relative will she turn out to be? Is she the daughter Christian never knew he had, or the one Ronnie gave up for adoption? I’m past caring. Who could believe in this parallel London where market inspectors employ council road sweepers, chocolate wrappers are poisonous, and sons forgive fathers for poggering their wives? The writers may be as smashed as Charlie Slater’s concrete but most viewers aren’t. Enough. With apologies to Slough: come friendly bombs and fall on ’Enders/To prolong this pain is just horrendous.

* EVIL Tony struck a Bond villain pose with Jed Stone’s cat on Corrie; a deliberate reference but not a smart one. It irritates because businessmen in soaps are always wrong’uns. And cos Tony, with his Pop-Eye, is already pantomime enough. He gloats over dying pensioners, issues sinister threats, sets up car-jackings – he’ll be reading comics by the light of a burning orphanage next. Corrie lurches between hyper-ventilating melodrama and complete twaddle (pickle, hampers, raffles, secret envelopes containing no secrets…) There’s a nasty under-current of man-bashing and murder. (Is Liam dead yet? It’s hard to tell). It's full of people we don’t care about doing things we can’t relate to. Sadly, two years shy of their 50th anniversary, the barrel containing Corrie’s credibility is heading rapidly towards the falls.

* WHY poison Jerry? He’s so fat and unfit, Teresa could just shag him to death. All it would take is six Viagras, a quart of gin and a dab of curry sauce behind each ear.

* HOW should Marcus deal with possessive Sean? Two words: Botox over-dose.

* THOSE Boris Johnson ancestors in full: Lady Muck. Lord Snooty. The Earl of Sandwich. The Duke of Leg-Over. King Midas. Queen Letitia. Kuhbla Khan. Croesus. The Count (misprint) of Monte Cristo. Big Brother's Kemal (continued Burke’s Berks).

* BORIS is posh. Cripes, who'd have thought it? That was licence fee money well-spent then. You know who I’d like to see on Who Do You Think You Are? Gary Glitter! Specially if all his ancestors got together via an ouija board and disowned the revolting pervert.

HOT on TV: Britain’s Olympians…Usain Bolt…Law & Order SVU…Ax Men (History)…The Unit (Virgin1)…and Motor City Burning – raw power, Iggy stardust.

ROT on TV: EastEnders - most surprising lost gold since Liu Xiang...The Perfect Vagina - biggest collection of prats this side of the F.A. …Jennifer Fox (Flying) - more self-absorbed than Blotto the human blotting paper - Superhuman: Genius - subhuman documentary...and Maestro - celebrity conductors, never a lightning bolt around when you need one is there?

* BIG Brother’s Mikey says he doesn’t enjoy sex because he’s blind. With some women (e.g. Bex, Zezi) wouldn’t that be an advantage?

* TEST him, Big Bro. Give Mikey Braille porn and see if he enjoys running his fingers over the rude bits…

* LOVED Lisa’s Thriller dance rehearsal. She moved with the grace of John Travolta in that film. Y_know, the one where he gets gunned down.

* TV name of the week: Rachel Fuchs, sex therapist. Runner-up: US Olympic reserve Destinee Hooker (also Zoe Slater_s childhood nickname).

* MEMO to the mad bird on The Perfect Vagina who thought her privates look like a parrot: Polly, put yer kecks back on.

RANDOM irritations: Richard & Judy’s long, self-pitying goodbye. Adrian Chiles forever banging on about West Brom. The BBC’s use of ‘medal’ as a verb. Mark Beaumont’s non-stop moaning _ on yer bike, whinger. And news of Jade’s cancer being broken to her in India’s Big Bro diary room. Sickeningly cynical.

* CORRIE Olympic news. Clean & Jerk champion (retired): Leanne Battersby, although she jerked more than she cleaned...at £25 a time. Coxless pair: Rita and Norris. Best synchronised entry: John, when he was scooting between Fiz's bed and Rosie Webster's... Rosie took silver (30 pieces for betraying her Dad).

SMALL joys of TV: McNulty (The Wire). Faye the witch and her fajita (Make Me A Christian) – won’t be long before she has a bun in the coven. Maisie Smith as Tiffany (EastEnders). And Christian’s business look: vest, jeans and briefcase - where was his meeting? The Bank of Gay?

* RICHARD Dawkins took on creationists who reckon God created man in one day. Hardly likely. Except in Jeremy Clarkson's case. He looks like a rush job.

* SURELY the surprise isn’t that Trinny and Tranny aren’t doing well on ITV, but that anyone at ITV ever thought they would…

* EVEN Lauren Laverne can't take the shine off the Edinburgh Festival. Hot turns this year include Michael McIntyre, Ed Byrne, Henry Rollins, Josh Howie (who wants to be "the Jewish Woody Allen") and incredibly Jim Bowen. Other mainstream comics should follow Jim's lead, swallow their pride and play new audiences.

Aug 17. IT’S back! Back like war on the Russian front. And some would say just as chilling. Not me, though. The X-Factor may be corny, formula-driven and as predictable as a Michael Phelps medal win, but the early weeks are still TV heaven. Because ITV give us what we want. Deluded tone-deaf losers? Check. Mawkish sob stories? Check. Promising talent? Yeah, we’ll get to you on that… What’s changed is the judges now come by chopper (insert your own bad-taste Louis gag here). And Cheryl Cole has replaced Sharon Osbourne. A shame. Cheryl’s smile could melt a cheese sarnie at twenty paces, but Sharon gave the show an edge of unpredictability, even danger. You felt that at some point the daft old bat might snap and rip out Dannii’s windpipe. Or was that just me? Cheryl’s as sweet as Auntie Pam’s pickle on Corrie (and is probably just as suspect.)

The opening contenders heralded the dawn of a new ear-ache. Helium horror Nathan, from dismal duo Dream Time, screeched like Joe Pasquale with his nuts in a vice. It was “like going to a zoo,” opined Cowell. Losers came thick and fast. Thickest were Welsh lads Ant & Seb who Cowell dismissed as “Ant & Deaf” for Seb’s half-baked rapping. The boy was so dim he probably thinks a decathlon is something you order in Starbucks. Symmetry was musical dysentery. And church co-ordinator Mark must be the MC at every parish function…if MC stands for Mental Case. The rejects generally had it coming, but you felt for some. You’d think by the age of 65 you’d have at least one friend who could take you to one side and say “Don’t show yourself up, mate, you sing like a ruptured duck.” Rachel, 26, was the perfect hard-luck story: pregnant at 13, jailed for drug offences, three kids in care, two more at home. She has what TV craves most: ‘a journey’, redemption even, and she delivered Amy Winehouse’s ‘No Good’ like an angel. Show closer was ex-Popstars: The Rivals contender and club singer Nikk who sang The River, and was so deflated afterwards it’s a wonder he didn’t go off and find one to jump in to. If it’s any consolation mate, to be told by Dannii Minogue that you look too old and haven’t got the voice to make it must rank pretty high on the showbiz irony-meter…

* STU is out of Big Brother. He’ll make money advertising make-up for men, but why stop there? Cry-baby Stu could be the poster boy for male tampons: Manpax – perfect for big wet twats. Do you care who wins? Mikey is a borderline lunatic. When he isn’t spewing sprouts he’s stealing underwear. Mo is so bone idol if he got ME no-one would notice. While Lisa’s shaving habits are as disturbing as a poltergeist in the airing cupboard. There’s Rex (bullying control freak), Sara (teasing loudmouth), dull Rachel and ever-moaning, favourite for the boot Nicole. Binge-drinking is fine, binge-whinging is unforgivable. Even Darnell has lost the plot. Kat will probably win, but you’d have to be a six-year-old girl to get into her happy/empty head. Face it, this lot are as much fun as a holiday in South Ossetia.

* I’VE always said Sue Perkins was talent-less. But after watching Maestro, I’m happy to concede she really could make it as a conductor. Especially now the Routemasters are coming back.

* DON’T Blame The Builder shows that most disputes with workmen are down to communication problems. Here, as a public service, is what they say – and what they mean: “We’ll have it done in three weeks” – not necessarily consecutive ones. “Here’s our estimate” – so treble it and add £500. “You won’t know we’re there” – because we won’t be. “This needs pointing” – pointing the other way.

HOT on TV: David Mitchell – a caustic joy…Frankie Boyle & Ricky Hatton (Charlotte Church)…Dexter (FX)…Criminal Minds (Living)...and House of Saddam – a blood Baath.

ROT on TV: Keith Lemon – a proper plum… Patsy Kensit - wetter than Michael Phelps… Spooks: Code 9 – mental age, twelve…BB9 – depreciating like Zimbabwean currency…and Gail Platt’s sex appeal (Corrie) – she couldn’t get a whistle off a boiling kettle.

* SOAP mysteries: how come Jerry ‘Dead Man Eating’ Morton has got fatter since he’s been on a health kick? Is Archie Mitchell psychic? He knows who’s behind him without seeing them. It’s spooky. And why did Peggy have a hair-do when she wears a wig? Her shampoo is Carpet Fresh.

* AUNT Sal claimed she was “a looker” when she was younger on EastEnders. Eh? When Sal was younger she was Olive from On The Buses. Not so much a looker, more looker-the-state-of-that.

* RIP Wellard; his death scene was suitably moving. He’ll be buried in Mrs Masood’s finest massalla sauce.

* MAD Jean said Ronnie has “movie star cheek bones.” Yeah. Janice the Muppet. Rin Tin Tin. Lassie…

* IF natural selection works, Richard Dawkins, why are there so many dumb people in the world? Some of them Presidents…Does being a congenital idiot have evolutionary value?

* DAWKINS says humans could breed with chimps. For proof, see Lee Evans.

* THE Perfect Vagina is on TV tonight. But enough about Alex Zane.

* SMALL joys of TV: beach volleyball (Olympics). Singing vent Terry Fator’s Garth Brooks impression (AGT). Goldie and Bradley Walsh (Maestro). Soccer Saturday’s James Brown doll. Suzi’s zip-up tops (Enders). Mrs Masood’s letter box rant…

* RANDOM irritations: it’s Great Britain, not “Team GB”. Charlotte Church’s opening song; never funny. An old dog getting put down on EastEnders that wasn’t Fat Pat. And Patsy Kensit’s tears – as genuine as a Beijing firework display.

* POOR Patsy Kensit faced shocking family revelations on Who Do You Think You Are? One ancestor turned out to be a vicar. The shame! She’ll never be able to hold her head up in the Blind Beggar again.

* KEN Barlow made a huge mistake on Corrie. He should have kept the book and burnt Blanche and Deirdre.

* I HEAR the Mortons are planning a big birthday party. That kebab is six years old next Wednesday.

* ONE Polish volleyball beauty appears to be called Lickerass. And in fairness, you would as well.

* THE Chinese are ordering citizens to smile more. Can they have a word with Ronnie Mitchell?

Aug 10. TONIGHTLY does for topical comedy what Darnell can only dream of doing to Big Brother’s Sara. This cast-iron disaster has less bite than a geriatric Gummy Bear, it’s as inventive as the ITV1 schedule and there were more laughs in Schindler’s List. Host Jason Manford, the poor man’s Peter Kay, is amiable enough, but lacks the attack, wit and authority to anchor a nightly satirical show. Manford begins with one weak TV-related gag, generally a lame Big Bro observation, then sits down to deliver feeble half-jokes like: “Barry George released today after seven years inside for a crime he didn’t commit – a lot like the A-Team.” Which apart from not being funny, suggests he’s never seen the A-Team (who robbed a bank, and then broke out of jail and went underground in LA.) On Monday he said: “The last few days everywhere you look you see Barry George which is ironic really.” Why, Jason? On Tuesday, he had a nice line about Morgan Freeman’s crash, “I bet Miss Daisy was sh*tting herself in the back.” But by Wednesday he was wittering on about wasps building a dialysis machine. Incredibly Jason is the best thing on the C4 show. Side-kick Andi Osho (short for oh-so-pointless) reads out amusing wedding announcements (‘researched’ by watching Leno) and kids’ exam answers (an email staple for years). Insipid comedy characters – an idiot reporter, a Tory MP (Labour have only been in power for eleven years) – then take part in lacklustre comic skits and mock interviews.

Not only is it as funny as a Mitchell family meal, it’s also shockingly gutless. They’ll bash a bishop but no other religion gets any stick. No-one puts any effort in to it, certainly not the TWELVE (count ’em!) writers. Everything from its dumb name to its lazy sketches screams “This will do.” Which is shaming. US TV delivers SEVEN competing topical comedy shows, all more watchable than this. But we could do it with the right people at the helm. Imagine Jack Dee sneering through the headlines, or the comic stink Frankie Boyle would kick up. Roy Hudd and his OAP Huddliners team would drum up more laughs than Manford and co. Forget ‘Generation Next’, give us Anyone Funny.

* COULD we be getting Bonekickers wrong? What if it’s not just cack drama, what if it’s an ingenious scam pulled off by Mickey Bricks from Hustle? Con-artist producers make up mad plots, gullible BBC execs pay up…And the longer they get away with it, the bolder their piss-taking becomes. So far the archaeologist ‘heroes’ have blitzed Boudicca’s body, burnt the true cross of Jesus and lost Joan Of Arc’s bones. (It’s a miracle the Prof didn’t jump them). They also used an ancient Babylonian relic as a Frisbee. The dialogue is equally demented: “Don’t mess with me, I’m an archaeologist”, “Give the man his bone”, “I’ve got an Etruscan spear in my hand and I’m not afraid to use it.” Come on, Mickey, it’s a racket, admit it. Next week: fun and frolics with King Arthur’s coffee table.

HOT on TV: The Olympics…Unhitched (FX)…Britain’s Strongest Man…Law & Order SVU…the Colbert Report (FX)…The Wire (FX) – bites like Paula Radcliffe’s spider.

ROT on TV: narky Nichole (BB9) – not shagging Rex in the house but she has f***ed his chances… Tonightly - sagging like Lulu’s knees…Diet On The Dancefloor – cha-cha-charmless… The Making Of Me(-diocrity)…Katy Brand… Bingo Night Live…Totally Calum Best – totally pointless.

* THEY had an ‘Arse Midget’ on The W.I. Guide To Brothels. Not to be confused with an arsey midget. That’s Anthony Worrall Thompson.

* AT their mobile knocking shop, Nicky Taylor asked passers-by: “Would you be interested in coming inside?” You’d want your money back if you didn’t.

* BRITISH hospitals are plagued with vermin. Or as they’re known on the set of Casualty, ex-soap stars…

* RATS and maggots on hospital wards. Is Ray Mears doing the NHS catering now?

* PROOF that Corrie's Dev is Hindu, no Muslim would be permitted to be this hammy…

* IS Prem short for premature? It’d explain why Nina wants Dev. She is Prem’s trophy wife. That’s why Dev is giving her a polish…

* I’D like to read Ken’s steamy book, just to find out how difficult necking is when faced with one like Deirdre’s.

* THAT Olympics opening ceremony – wow. A mind blowing array of colour and spectacular visual effects with stunning choreography. How are we going to follow that? Synchronised WAGs and a parade of former Big Brother contestants? Hosted by Zezi Ifore…

* ITV profits are plunging like Rosie Webster’s neck-line. Maybe they’d do better if they made shows people actually wanted to see: gritty cop dramas, working class sitcoms, proper comedians, variety shows. Alternatively Trinny and Tranny, on rollerskates, on a cliff edge, with a couple of Acme rockets strapped to their back would do the trick.

* POOR Vinnie was crushed by Shirley’s behaviour on EastEnders. But not as crushed as he would have been if he’d bedded Heather on the rebound…

* FEMALE Olympians will be tested to make sure they weren’t born male. Then scientists will do the same test on Lisa from Big Brother.

* DID you see the Secret Millionaire’s wife? Some things should stay secret. Not a pretty woman. When she looks in the mirror her reflection ducks.

SMALL joys of TV: Jaime Murray in the shower (Dexter). Karen Taylor – saucy minx. Tracy, the Queen Vic’s mute barmaid, finding her voice. Suzy Branning’s cleavage. And the way the gap in Shirley Carter’s front teeth keeps disappearing. Outdoors, it’s there, indoors it vanishes. She’s wearing falsies! Something Suzy will never need…

* HOT not on TV: Sarah Silverman, Nonso Anozie (Cass), Eric’s Tales Of The Sea (Edinburgh Festival).

RANDOM irritations: Corrie doing the Audrey/Camilla joke 12 years after I wrote it. Metric weights on Strongest Man. EastEnders’ constant man-bashing. Ronnie Mitchell – as cheerful as a verrukka. And Ben Mitchell – a horrible sulky brat; dismal dancer too. Slap some sense in to him, Phil.

* REX on Big Brother is pissing me off. Who styles his hair, Mr. Whippy?

Aug 2. SUMMER telly is traditionally as cheery as a gas bill. But even in this broadcasting desert, we can rely on one big-hearted charmer to refresh the famished viewer. Step forward Blanche Hunt. Superbly played by Maggie Jones, Blanche is as restrained as a Jerry Springer audience and as sensitive as the Gestapo. Her corrosive tongue made Corrie’s latest daft gay twist halfway tolerable. Convincing herself that Ken had ‘turned’, Blanche outed him to Deirdre: “He’s started drinking Camomile tea…he’s reading gay porn…he’s meeting confirmed bachelors in hotel foyers.” And then confronted Ken: “I have nothing against the gays, Kenneth,” she said. “I just don’t want my daughter married to one. I’m old-fashioned that way.” When Ken found his old novel in the loft, she sneered: “Even the moths haven’t shown an interest.”

You have to suspend belief from the town hall clock to imagine Ken being hooked on Armistead Maupin books. But it’s not hard to see why he’d chum up with Ted. The only art that interests anyone else in the Street is pub graffiti… Which presumably consists of sensitive sketches of Rosie starkers, and doodles of Tony and his big bug eye… Why does no-one mention that, by the way? In real life, the would. And surely someone would question John Snipe’s ability to drive a cab given that he thinks Fiz is hot. Get thee to a Spec Savers, pal, you’re one lens away from Mikey on Big Brother. Blanche’s latest rival in the bitch stakes is Harry’s missus Clarissa, a class A unreconstructed cow. Is Liz short for Lizard, she asked? “She’s very well-preserved,” said Harry. “So are the mummies in the British Museum,” sniped Clarissa, before dubbing Liz’s cleavage “Tutankhamen’s bust” and “the Valley of the Kings.” She turned up before Harry managed to excavate it, winning him back and getting dragged out of the Rovers by Liz, by her hair. But not before she told her: “They say you can tell a woman’s age by her hands, but in your case it’s the face. I’d sack the surgeon.” Prem’s ex-film star wife Nina coming on to Dev sets up another promising lust triangle. She’s obviously turned on by his big eight (shops). Naughty Nina. It leaves would-be social climber Dev with a tough decision: leg-up, or leg-over? Expect him to start putting the wood in Bollywood any day now.

* ODD coincidence. Minnie Caldwell’s husband was an Armistead. Her next fella was Handel Gartside. No wonder she turned to cats.

* SHOCKING the way C4 gave Carol Vorderman 48 hours to take a pay cut. They should have given her 30 seconds on the Countdown clock. Do-do, do-do, dododedodooo.

* THE BBC was fined £400K for faking phone-ins. They’ll pay this out of the licence fee. So they fleece the public, and we pick up the tab. How is this fair? The BBC’s fat cat bosses should personally pay every penny, out of their undeserved bonuses.

* HENRY VIII was a devout King who went to mass five times a day. But on The Tudors, he’s more like a regal Tony Soprano. He has people killed, duffs up servants and kick-starts the Reformation just to bang Anne Boleyn. Henry’s the only man in the court who hasn’t had her. Talk about Anne of a Thousand Lays…the woman has the morals of a Slater Sister. Sadly, the Sopranos similarity doesn’t stretch to the script. That’s thinner than a medieval beggar. On the plus side, Peter O’Toole twinkles masterfully as the Pope, they’re boiling chefs alive (your turn soon, Gordon) and blonde beauty Jane Seymour is coming. But will H say the magic words: “If I could see more of Jane Seymour, I’d let Jane see more of me”?

* WALFORD irritations: 1) Jean’s voice – as pleasing to the ear as six cats sliding down a ten foot chalkboard. 2) The magic pub jukebox that turns itself off for rows/speeches. 3) Escaped animal storylines, this week Big Mo’s bird (she has a parrot, but is partial to a cockatoo.) 4) Sean doing a runner every other day. They should play the skedaddle cartoon sound effect every time he legs it; Corrie added a Popeye-style punch sound when misery guts Michelle decked Steve recently, and cheered up a bad scene no end. 5) The waste of Davro. 6) Ronnie and Roxy’s tedious rowing, can’t they be muzzled? 7) Endless never-mentioned, long-lost relatives. (Not you, Suzi, you’re cute…)

* OPENING words in Monday’s Enders: “Jason dire.” Couldn’t agree more.

HOT on TV: To Catch A Predator (FX) – scumbags stitched up, shown up, and banged up …Buzzcocks …House of Saddam… Shark finale…The Nine (Five US)…and New Tricks – but which one’s the old dog?

ROT on TV: Undress The Nation – depress the viewer…Charlotte Church Show - as burnt out as Weston’s pier… Bonekickers – don’t dig…and Harley Street – dramatic MRSA (Medical Rubbish, Should Avoid)

* CRISS Angel used a Tesla Coil to simulate a lightning strike on his MTV show. His assistant’s accent made it sound like testicle, bringing new meaning to quotes like: “This Tesla Coil can emit a 25ft arc of plasma.” Buster Gonad eat your heart out.

* CALUM Best is trying to go without sex for fifty days on MTV. That’s nothing. Dot Branning has gone without for fifty years.

* NEAT exchange on New Tricks. Gerry: “I'm from the Unsolved Crime and Open Case Squad.” Danny: “You cocks?”

* CHINESE Food made even easier: lift phone, order take-away, collect, eat.

* REASONS to be cheerful: 1) Harry Hill’s TV Burp, back September. 2) Shooting Stars returns at Xmas 3) The Olympics start Thursday – hurrah! People with real ability on TV…here’s to seeing Jennie Finch in HD, slo-mo.

* SMALL joys of TV: Family Guy re-runs (FX). Kevin Bishop’s Dwarf Channel. Spartan knocked off his pedestal (Gladiators). Bunce’s Boxing Hour (Setanta News). Jamelia. And Simon Amstell asking Lethal Bizzle if his car runs on dizzle…

* JANICE started the Corrie booze cruise with a mouthful of Stagg…just like that last hen party, eh Jan?

July 27. DRAGON’S Den and the dragons’ reputation for shrewdness has just gone the way of the Labour Party in Glasgow East. Why compete so desperately to sink £75K into no-hope indie band Hamfatter? The rock business is on its arse. The band looked crap, sound average, and don’t mean a light in terms of sales – their first album “sold out” all 500 copies. Singer Eoin wouldn’t turn the head of a 20-year-old Russian cocktail waitress now, let alone when he’s 61. Hamfatter’s underwhelming performance in the Den inspired a trickle of Myspace friends, and drove the increasingly hammy dragons to new heights of boastful nonsense. “I have huge access to everyone at Sony,” bragged Peter Jones. He had huge access to everyone at ITV too, but that didn’t stop Tycoon’s viewing figures from slumping like Vodaphone shares.

I love this show; it rightly celebrates enterprise and ingenuity. But it’s been nobbled by the Dragons’ own hunger for celebrity. Once they devoured the deluded, now they crave fame. They want to be hip. No chance. Bad business ideas remain the Den’s life-blood. Trembling fools traipse before the filthy rich panel to have their dreams ripped apart like a soap character’s wedding vows. Sweaty salesman Barry Ritchie pitched a £600 machine that turned air into pure 7p-a-litre drinking water. Unfortunately, it tasted like Keith Miller’s pants. A married couple demonstrated the Layline, designed to divvy up a double bed. Divs. It was the worst pitch since Stamford beach. The show cooks when the dragons sniff the potential in a project and start bidding against each other. They might go for my own modest invention, the Twerp-Topper. This simple device analyses everything Evan Davies says, and the second he tells us something we’ve just seen or repeats what someone else has said moments before, it ‘Dexters’ him. Instantly, cleanly and fatally. “Theo thinks…” he simpers. Yes, we know what he thinks, we’ve just heard him say it, you cross-eyed pillock. Davies is a bug-ugly cross between Gollum and a weak, needy vicar. When he isn’t patronizing us, he’s hyping things up. “Mayhem erupts in the Den,” he’ll claim. But it hasn’t. Not now, not ever.

* MY Top 5 Dragon pitches. 1) Bannatyne’s ‘Barnet Fine’ Formula; just rub on bald patch and watch hair miraculously sprout. 2) Deborah Meaden Fright Dolls (can double as Droopy Dog). 3) Peter Jones ego-container (needs a lot of juice). 4) The Pun-isher: device that reacts to Theo’s bad puns with powerful shocks. 5) Mark o’ Caan: a flashing light that fits on James Caan’s head to remind us he’s there.

* MY Dad would have loved Dragon’s Den. He invented the first burglar alarm, but some bastard nicked it.

* BYE Bex. Bye you squawking nuisance. Thank God we won’t have to waste any more nights mentally dressing this noisy child-woman. Irritating? Radovan Karadzic used his one post-arrest phone call to vote her off Big Bro. But at least Bex now knows she is more hated than Mo, a lazy, greedy bum who eats like Mr Creosote at a free buffet. And that’s gotta hurt.

* MAYSOON. What’s that short for? May soon talk/walk/do something remotely interesting? Get rid.

* WHAT a difference Michael McIntyre made to Big Mouth. Funny, bright and enthusiastic, McIntyre re-energised a format that nearly died of embarrassment with Bianca Gascoigne at the helm. Comics make the best hosts of entertainment shows, but C4 can’t grasp it. So they book dull Mark Ronson for the Sunday Night Project and dummies like Kelly Osbourne and Konnie Huq as guests on 8 Out Of Ten Cats. Stop it. It’s not clever, it’s not ironic and it doesn’t work.

HOT on TV: The Wire (FX)…Michael McIntyre (BBBM)…Jaime Murray (Dexter)…and The Kevin Bishop Show – especially Brian Cowell, Countdown USA and Unpopular Dr Doolittle.

ROT on TV: Burn Up – turn off, piss-poor propaganda… Harley Street – clinically depressing…Britain’s Missing Top Model – wrong on so many levels…Bonekickers – as lost as an MOD lap-top…and Last Choir Standing – in desperate need of West Ham’s Chicken Run choristers chanting “Who are ya?” at Nick Knowles.

* DID you see what Rosie Webster was nearly dressed in on Corrie? Dear Lord. “Rosie appears to have forgotten something,” said the announcer. Yeah, her underwear, her dignity…

* SISTER Sophie hasn’t had sex yet. She wants to. She just hasn’t met the right teacher.

* JACK Duckworth: “Me and Our Vera were married for fifty years and I don’t regret a day of it…That day was March 2, 1972, charabanc trip to Blackpool.”

RANDOM irritations: Masterchef’s African junket – at our expense. Muscle Mary Christian on EastEnders, strutting about like he’s something when he’d run from a pillow fight at St Trinian’s. And the plague of medical shows – there are so many on TV now you have to wash your hands every time you change channels.

* HOW come Ken Dodd hasn’t been on Cash In The Celebrity Attic? He’s the only one likely to actually keep cash there.

* I MISSED that Dispatches show, The Jab That Stops Jane Moore, but I think it’s a left jab, followed by an uppercut.

* CHEEKY Girl Gaby has ditched Lembit Opic, MP. Apparently she found the Welsh member a bit of a mouthful.

* STAGE musical star John Barrowman was tested to find out why he’s gay. The main reason? He’s a stage musical star.

* JOHN Barrowman is gay? I had no idea. What will TV discover next? That Jodie Marsh puts it about a bit?

* NEXT on C4: Can’t Read, Can’t Write, Am Marking SATs papers.

* SEND In The Dogs. Wasn’t that the working title for Loose Women?

* HIGH drama on Bonekickers: could they smell gas...or was it the script? Even the threat of imminent death couldn’t stop Gillian banging on about love. Any more sexual charge, and it’d be Bonelickers.

SMALL joys of TV: Stax Night (BBC4). Glasgow East by-election results – Gordon spanked like Max Mosley. Rosie’s outfits on Corrie. She’s looks like a poster for Lolita: ‘Coming soon – YOU!’

July 20. THERE just aren’t enough medical shows on TV, so ITV have given us Harley Street. It hasn’t got the edge of House or the breath-taking verve of ER. But it has got great dollops of lust served up by Mad Joe from EastEnders, now reborn as Doctor Robert Fielding. This guy flirts with every woman going - nurses, receptionists, toffs... He pulled posh Miranda at a shooting party and popped her cork in the wine cellar. Later she turned up at his surgery where he supplied an injection that didn’t require a syringe. Dirty Doctor Fielding. His favourite prescription is 10ccs of him. It wouldn’t surprise you if his thermometer had a vibrate function and the diploma on his wall came from TVX: The Fantasy Channel.

Fielding (Paul Nicholls) flits between his NHS work (Normally Humping Someone) and his West End private clinic, where he handles everything from psychiatry to surgery via social work and of course, sexual healing. His heart is clearly in gynaecology, as are several other body parts. He’s not an ear, nose and throat man, his specialities are more leg, breast and thigh… The show depends entirely on how seriously you take Nicholls as an irresistible love god. It baffles the hell out of me. He’s got boyish charm, but he’s not exactly Steamy McDreamy from Gray’s Anatomy, is he? At least James Robertson-Justice had personality. Elsewhere it’s the usual brainless recipe: soapy plots, soapier cast, cardboard characters and beautiful people. Kim ‘Sam Mitchell’ Medcalf is here, along with stunning Suranne Jones who really ought to be back in Corrie kicking misery guts Michelle into touch. Suranne plays Fielding’s medical partner Dr Martha Elliot, the only woman he can’t have. Some other smoothie doc wants in to her practice and her knickers, and….zzzz…sorry, dropped off. It’s the telly equivalent of fast food - which is fine, except it’s all we get from Brit TV while the US produces great gourmet feasts like The Wire, The Sopranos, Boston Legal and The Shield. Proper, grown-up dramas. Shamefully, the most important person at any British TV channel today is the head of acquisitions.

* DOC Fielding had sex with Miranda in a wine cellar followed by some vintage plonk. Full-bodied, crisp and fruity, goes down well…and wait till I tell you about the wine.

* TREVOR Phillips complains that no black actors are in The Vicar Of Dibley. Is he mad? What self-respecting black actor would want to be in this tosh? They’d only be required to play a gormless idiot, like five of seven regulars do. You’re not in Dibley? Thank your lucky stars!

* PANIC on EastEnders as Charlie thought he’d been bitten by a spider. “He’s swollen up like a drowned hippo,” said Mo. So pretty much condition normal. But we mustn’t make light of it. That spider was the scariest thing with eight legs to hit Walford since the Slater sisters arrived. Though not quite as predatory. It turned up with Billy’s bananas and crawled into Charlie’s shirt. “What’s this horrible hairy thing?” said the spider. The biggest miracle is that Roxy didn’t bed it, she’s shagged everyone else. Maybe she has already. If the birth is filmed live on a web-cam don’t be too surprised.

HOT on TV: Frankie Boyle’s comic bile (Mock The Week) - like Max Mosley we can only beg for more… Elite Forces (Discovery) …Comics Britannia – fine and Dandy… New Tricks… and Sam Delaney (BB’s Big Mouth) – sharp, witty, opinionated; he should be hosting it.

ROT on TV: Harley Street – surgeon on the ridiculous… Bianca Gascoigne – Big Brother’s Big Flop…Diet On The Dance Floor – cha cha charmless…Lab Rats…and Return To Airport – another chance to see Jeremy Spake, gee thanks. What next? Another chance to experience projectile vomiting?

* TOP surprises found in Hitler’s Secret Bunkers: 1) A rubber chicken 2) Blanche Hunt’s phone number 3) Collection of stick-on moustaches 4) Charlie Chaplin suit and cane 5) His other testicle 6) Picture of his love child, Saddam 7) Eva Braun’s penis.

* EELS, squirrels, hares…is there anything Marco won’t kill and cook? Keep him away from Corrie, he’ll have those two cats off the wall in the opening credits in a stew. I bet he’s behind Sarah Jessica Parker’s missing mole.

* BYE Belinda, Big Bro’s dumpy drama queen is gone, gone, gone. The right choice, though her OTT reaction to the bike task was funnier than Charlotte Church’s whole series. Turf out Bex next. Her face doesn’t fit. Anywhere. Have you seen the size of it?

* PAMELA Anderson’s favourite sex position is the Windmill. I don’t know what that is, but I’m prepared to have a tilt at it.

* MOST disappointing TV ad 2008: Aquafresh. The “three-way head” is just a toothbrush.

* CORRIE was directed by Durno Johnston. Is that really a name? Sounds like someone asked a dim p.a. what the director was called and they replied: “Durno.”

* RITA turned up at Underworld telling Pop-Eye Tony “I didn’t know where else to find you.” Try the Rovers any evening and most dinner times, love.

* I FIND it hard to care about Tyrone. This kid’s so dim he probably thinks Kung Fu Panda is something cooked by Ching-He Huang.

* RANDOM irritations: Saturday night TV. Nick Knowles – looks like he needs a wash, talks like he’s got a mouthful of choir boy. Tess Daly hosting a blithering rip-off of The Sky’s The Limit, badly. Televised karaoke…you’d have more fun Banged Up.

* SMALL joys of TV: Lisa’s UFO experience (BB9): “The alien was more frightened of us.” You don’t say. Jim Tavare (Last Comic Standing). Art Of Football (ESPN). And Blanche Hunt on Ken (Corrie): “Going t’see a play with a homosexual, he’ll be using moisturiser next. It’s a slippery slope.”

* IN next week’s Bonekickers, Julie Graham digs up the corpse of her agent who died of embarrassment. Deeper down she uncovers the head of BBC Drama hiding in a bunker until it’s over.

* FRANKIE Boyle on the troubled US mortgage giant: "When I saw the headline Fanny Mae Collapse, I thought Kerry Katona was pregnant again."

July 13. TV’S 50 Hardest Men didn’t exactly hit like a rocket from Iran. For starters Anne Robinson made the list. So that moustache of hers has obviously fooled a few people. And Simon Cowell was at No 21. Why? You’ll see harder cheeses at seaside picnics at the height of summer. It’s just a relief that Biggins wasn’t at 20. Jack Bauer of 24 was Sky’s No.1, and it’s hard to disagree with that. But little else about this hit-and-miss list show made sense. They found room for He-Man and Wolf from Gladiators – so a dumb two dimensional cartoon for kids, and He-Man as well. But there was no sign of the great Vic Mackey from The Shield. Gripper from Grange Hull was here, but not Tony Soprano. Jeremy Paxman made No.24. Yeess. But by the time Paxo had wounded you with logic, Mike Hammer (who they also forgot) would have put a slug between your eyes, pulled your grieving girlfriend and hit the nearest bar.

Travesties abounded. Donal Macintyre – the TV reporter who fainted while getting a tattoo - was at No 6. Gene Hunt trailed in at 50. Ross Kemp, by pure coincidence a Sky One signing, made the Top Three. Stop sniggering. But there was no Frank Ross. Dirty Den got in, Jez Quigley didn’t. The Equaliser’s Robert McCall was here too. Why? Davina McCall is harder. Take away the big pudding’s gun, and he’s nothing. He’d get winded using an iPhone. T-Bag from Prison Break was at No.13. But would he really have been a match for Genial Harry Grout of Slade Prison? If he’d tried to take over C-wing, T-Bag would have found himself in very hot water.

The biggest outrage was the lack of fighting Jocks. Three Irishmen made the list, an Aussie and 14 Yanks, but the only Scotsman featured was Taggart. A shocking snub to Budgie’s fearsome Charlie Endell. Other AWOL tough-guys include Hunter, the Fox family and Harry Fenning from Citizen Smith. But the greatest omission was The Knock’s Lenny McLean. Sky’s entire Top Ten combined couldn’t have taken on Lenny on the cobbles. Still great clips of Sharpe, Jack Regan and Terry McCann recalled a time when British TV wasn’t all make-over shows, cooking and life-style cobblers. And for that, much thanks.

* THE toughest in real life was probably Kojak star Telly Savalas. He was a war hero who won the Purple Heart. You knew he had guts when he recorded the pop song ‘If’. It sounded like he was still sucking his lollypop.

* ISN’T it time Frankie Boyle got his own show? The Mock The Week regular has an edge of vitriol that sets him apart. Here’s Frankie on George Bush’s future as a public speaker: “Yes, play to your strengths, eh George? That’s like Abu Hamza having a career doing shadow puppets.” On women bishops: “I’m all for them, because finally there will be bishops teenage boys will have sex with willingly.” And on Zimbabwe’s elections: “So corrupt, second place went to Ant & Dec.” Mock The Week beats 8 Out Of Ten Cats because all of its panellists deliver. I’m fond of Andy Parsons. “What are the sports we’re world class at?” he asked, discussing the Olympics. “Pool and darts! We don’t need a massive stadium. We need a gigantic Wetherspoons.”

* PEACE-loving Muslims were butchered by killer Christians on Bonekickers. It was the biggest load of old cobblers since the World Shoemakers’ Convention. Painfully PC, the show is also badly written, absurdly executed, miscast and derivative. It’s Time Team meets the Da Vinci Code in Indiana Jones’s backyard – hypnotically awful. One ‘dynamic archaeologist’ summed up the mood of the watching nation succinctly: “Can we all just go to the pub?”

HOT on TV: Wimbledon men’s final – gripped like Billie Piper’s denture glue…Dexter (FX) – cutting edge…new EastEnders Maggie O’Neill and Larry Lamb…and Marco Pierre White – shooting, smoking, fishing, flirting; this show could make Harriet Harman’s head explode.

ROT on TV: Bonekickers – beyond bad…Lab Rats – science affliction…Banged Up - prison ache…Gok Wan’s Fashion Fix – let Iran have their rocket if they agree to use it on this witless dross… Last Choir Standing – last viewer watching…and Living With The Cheeky Girls – taking ‘reality’ TV so far down, it’d take Bonekickers to find it.

* FIVE promised us “the Cheeky Girls as you’ve never seen them before.” What, on fire? On Mastermind? Fully clothed? Suddenly Davros’s demented scheme to “destroy reality” makes sense. He must have seen the trailer.

* LEMBIT and Gabriela: imagine how their kids will turn out. His looks, her brains – they’ll breed Dingles.

* GITA from EastEnders got vaporised on Dr Who. See, Davros wasn’t all bad. Even he hated EastEnders.

* SEPARATED at birth: Davros and former Government minister Nicholas Ridley…

* THAT image of Marco holding a dead pig’s head still haunts me. The wrinkles, the heavy eyes, the pink saggy face… and the pig didn’t look too clever either.

* MYSTERIES: Who did BB Mario's tattoos, was it Mikey? Would a movie version of Bonekickers be called I Know What You Did Last Supper? And on Enders, did Roxy’s gardener get to trim her bush?

* SOAP quote of the week, from Blanche discussing Ken’s Uni reunion on Corrie: “Did you tell ’em Tracy’s in clink, and you sell buns in a caff owned by a woman who used to be called Harold?”

* RANDOM irritations: BBC bosses’ bonuses – for what? Ashley Pearson’s voice – it grates like a speeding Masterchef contender. Pamela Anderson being in Australia’s Big Brother and not ours. Big Bro’s Belinda rapping, snoring, singing and repeating words three times. Belinda, Belinda, Belinda: out, out, OUT!

* SMALL joys of TV: Dalek Caan. Mo’s Irish jig (BB9) – but he won’t get Irish jiggy with Maysoon. Alesha Dixon’s laugh. Joe Swash. Bernard Cribbins. And Tony on Corrie – not saying he's evil but his best friend on Facebook is Robert Mugabe.

July 6. GIRLS, girls, girls…Big Brother is getting through more women than Russell Brand on a watermelon and Viagra diet. Steph, Alex, Dennis (the most girlie), Sylvia…and now Jen. The LIDL Cheryl Cole was the latest beaut to get the boot. The look on her face when her name was called was a picture even Rex wouldn’t have smudged. Goodbye and good riddance. Three new women arrived to ease our pain. Well, two women and an obvious nuisance. Belinda, 44, is a theatre director who claims to be an “emotional tonic” and is no stranger to gin and tonic if I’m any judge. Belinda looks like a cross between the Seawitch from the Little Mermaid and a slightly less porky Julie Burchill. She has a “huge personality” and an even huger backside. I thought Bex was the biggest arse in the house. Not any more. Belinda’s could fill the diary room.

First in was Sara, 27, an Aussie with the lips of Angelina, who likes older men. So let’s hope she seduces Mario and adopts Luke. Model Maysoon, 28, doesn’t like people who are “in your face, annoying or rude”. Bex, get yer coat. She has two cute Chihuahuas and some dogs as well. Let’s hope she brought an airbrush for that hooter. Maysoon says she doesn’t blow her own trumpet, but she could… The newcomers made Bex squawk like Foghorn Leghorn on fire, left Dale looking more gormless than normal and immediately shook up the house’s balance of power. A good thing. They’d started to bore me. Or, in the case of Lisa, horrify me. Did you see her shaving her moustache with a Bic razor? Yikes. Who will win? Darnell surely, but I’m not bothered. What does concern me is that Bex goes - and quickly. She’s like something you’d kill on level three of Resident Evil. Granted she could breast-feed Luton, but Bex is loud, petty, immature and tetchier than Andy Murray. She is probably Satan’s love child. When she was dressed as a seal, even animal rights activists were reaching for their clubs. In the name of sanity I beg you: Get Bex Out!

* QUESTIONS arising from Big Bro’s Zoo task: why wasn’t Luke a snake? Why wasn’t Kat a hyena? And was Jen the tightest seal this side of a Tupperware party? Love-sick Dale never did find out.

* MARCO’S Great British Feast features Britain’s finest chef shooting, fishing, flirting and enthusing about fish and chips. And donkeys – gulp. For a moment I thought he might garrotte one and roast it on a spit constructed from the bones of his fiercest critic, gastro-snob Max Arthur. Max was described as a “food historian”. Is this actually a job? It sounds like Dawn French’s hobby. It’s certainly no job for a man.

* ON Smallville, Lana Lang became ‘super’ and lost no time bedding Clark. Their coupling registered on the Richter scale. Is it any wonder? The Man of Steel may have a rod of iron, but his powers mean he could never make love to a normal earth girl. He’s got super-speed. What woman wants that? Imagine the friction burns. Super-strength too. If he banged her nut against the headboard in the heat of passion, it’d go right through the wall. If he blew in her ear, her head could end up in Gotham City.

* Kristin Kreuk, Laura Vandervoort, Erica Durance…I’ve studied Smallville’s female cast and as far as I can see they’re all super.

HOT on TV: Criminal Justice – dazzling drama…Fernando Torres…Frankie Boyle…Chuck series finale…and Back To You – not Frasier, but each ep delivers more laughs than an entire series of All About Me.

ROT on TV: Britain’s Closest Encounters – if aliens are coming it’s not to watch rubbish C5 documentaries… Who Dares, Sings – who watches loses the will to live…Empire – imperial lather…Last Choir Standing…Loose Women – shown twice a day cos you can’t believe how bad it was the first time.

* LAST weekend, Ben Shepherd was on BBC1 and ITV simultaneously. Brian Conley can’t get decent telly, yet suddenly this watered-down Philip Schofield is Mr Saturday Night. Why? It’s nuts. Ben co-hosts Who Dares Sings – even though he can’t sing. Or dance. Or anything. He does have one thing in his favour though. He isn’t Nick Knowles.

* RANDOM irritations: poor casting on Celebrity Masterchef. They’d get bigger celebs waiting with a net outside the Priory. Sean Slater’s return (Enders). His storylines drag like a caveman’s knuckles. And Cherie Booth chairing C4’s knife crime commission. If she wants to know why our streets are unsafe why doesn’t she ask her husband, the cops he helped neuter and her ‘human rights’ lawyer buddies?

* THAT Doctor Who finale: dazzling if you’re ten or under, or a female of any age. Frustrating tosh for the rest of us. It opened with a cop-out (no regeneration) and motored downhill via a series of let-downs, anti-climaxes, and goobledegook. Davros’s master-plan to “destroy reality” was cobblers, Rose’s exile made no sense, Daleks are so mighty they can move planets but ‘Doctor Donna’ beat ’em by typing fast. Ye Gods. Roll on the Moffat era.

* COULD Ben Mitchell become a dance star like Billy Elliott? With his EastEnders he’s more likely to be Billy Yellalot.

* QUEEN Vic pub quizzers were asked which human body part can expand to ten times its size. Hmm, I dunno. Chelsea’s nose? Ricky’s braincell? In the real East End I’m pretty sure some wag would have shouted “Heather’s gut.”

* A ploughman’s in the Vic will set you back £6.25 – 75p more than the steak and chips. How so? It’s almost as puzzling as who they employ to actually cook it…or where Billy Mitchell has disappeared to.

* JACKET spuds start at £4.50 in the Vic, nearly two quid dearer than Roy’s Rolls. No wonder Peggy can afford so many holidays.

* BRENDA, talking about her French horn, said: “It’s a long time since I’ve had it polished.” Quipped Mo: “Charlie was saying the same thing this morning.”

* ANDI Peters can cook! He had to be good at something. But was his Masterchef performance the first time he’s left “a salty taste” in another TV presenter’s mouth?

* CORRIE’S Norris on Vernon: “I’ve made a packet of biscuits last longer than his marriage to Liz.”

* ROY Cropper said that Becky has “the morals of a stray cat.” Honestly, a woman beds 30 or 40 unsuitable men and suddenly she’s a trollop…

June 30. MICHELLE showed her true colours on Corrie - she’s an unhinged, hormonal lunatic. She stalked Lloyd, fingered Leanne (not literally) and bored the pants off the rest of us, all because she rightly suspects Steve McDonald of an illicit leg-over. Not so much a whodunit as who-did-Steve-do. We know he had a drunken bunk-up with Becky, the sandwich maker who loves to spread ’em. But we also know a canny fella like Steve would not have aroused Michelle’s suspicions by immediately bolting. It’s not like he’d woken up next to Emily Bishop or anything.

If he’d been shagging Ena Sharples – recently - you could understand the mix of shame and blind panic.

But Steve is no stranger to infidelity. He’s bedded some of the hottest women in soap history - Karen, Maxine and Fiona. And Tracy, Vicky, Ronnie and Kelly as well… It always puzzled me why his ‘twin’ Andy looked ten years older than him when Steve was getting all the action. Karen alone would have worn out most men. So it’s hard to believe that he’d be bombarding Michelle with flowers and phone calls. Corrie bosses have lost the plot. They’ve certainly lost the knack of writing male characters. There’s not a bloke in the Street with a back-bone. Look at lily-livered Lloyd, soft-touch Jerry and Liam who gave up his business without a fight. What a bunch of wimps. The plots grip like a geriatric clergyman. The light relief – Liam and his dog, the Lowry painting that wasn’t – is pitiful. The soap has replaced its wittiest writers with smug bores pushing C4 agendas: Steve’s Malta teaser, Violet’s gayby… What next? Betty and Eileen tip the velvet? This week, the Morton kid accused his sister of being “sexist” – is that really the language of Manchester back street kebab carvers these days? No wonder the soap recently recorded viewing figures of just 5.67 million. Five dollops a week of saintly gays and monstrous boilers might not be quite what the ITV audience wants. But don’t fret. They’ll crank it up soon with another OTT lunatic. Richard Hillman begat Mad Maya begat Casey Carswell begat Demon David, each one less thrilling than the last. When David last ran amok even the cast looked bored. Never mind who Steve shagged, ITV needs to investigate who screwed Coronation Street – and sort it.

* MEMO to Michelle: shut up about Malta, you were on a break!

* MORE art disappointment next week when the ‘Monet’ in Ken’s loft turns out to be something Uncle Albert painted without his glasses on. And the ‘Henry Moore’ Claire spots was actually Big Eileen sun-bathing.

WHO’S to blame for Big Bro’s spit spat? Jennifer! OK, drunken Rex was wrong to smudge her rubbish painting, but he said sorry repeatedly. It was Jen who, realising her moment had come, kept banging on about it in a tedious torrent of attention-seeking self-pity. Her boys, Dale and Stu (aka Dull and Stupid) then competed to over-react to impress her. Mo (Fat-Boy Dim) got involved – he heard Rex was eating humble pie and fancied a slice. In the resulting ruckus, Dennis, the vile mincing queen, gobbed in Mo’s face, choreographing himself right out of the show. After this, the proper eviction was an anti-climax. Sylvia, the lazy two-faced bunny-boiling trollop, went. So, one less looker in the house of horrors… But Sylv was nuttier than Tufty’s turds. Only a barking mad woman would think that repeatedly waking up a bloke to tell him to stop flirting with her was a good idea. Especially when he wasn’t… C4 says BB teaches us something about the human condition. It does. It teaches us that humans who go on the show are idiots who deserve every humiliation they get.

* WILL Jen, Dale and Stuart get it on? Unlikely. Stu’s idea of a threesome is pleasuring himself with both hands.

* SYLVIA’S mother said Sylvia’s busy…not now she ain’t.

* Alex claimed to know gangsters. Mo is clearly no stranger to Ginsters…

* MPs are queuing up to rightly condemn the Zimbabwe elections. We haven’t seen vote-fixing this blatant since the hanging chads of Florida…although Brown bribing the 42-day bill through the Commons comes close…

HOT on TV: Euro 2008 – diamond Guiza…the Veez, Glastonbury (singer Shay pictured)…Weakest Link EastEnders special…Terry Fator, singing ventriloquist (America’s Got Talent) - grilliant…and Graham Norton – outclassing lazy, tired Jonathan Ross every week.

ROT on TV: Mario (BB9) – harder to shift than Mugabe…dress tips from Kelly Osbourne (Gok’s Fashion Fix) – as much use elocution lessons from Ozzy...Richard Arnold…Sue Perkins – as funny as famine…BBLB – Zezi Top-yourself…and Dennis in the BB cells - Prisoner Cell Block Head.

* DID you see it last night? That wrinkled face, the eerie voice, the skeletal frame…and as well as Amy Winehouse at Glastonbury, Davros came back.

* YES on Doctor Who, Davros returned, the Daleks stole earth out of the sky, and a former Prime Minister chose death before dishonour. How far-fetched. A courageous Prime Minister? Ridiculous.

* WE also saw an unshelled Dalek: how not to look good naked.

* JOYS galore on Truly Madly Cheaply. This glorious trawl through British B-movies showed Jess Conrad getting strangled by a giant gorilla, and Harry H. Corbett as a killer pervert in a wig you expected to sit up and beg for scraps. Plus an alien with a head like a giant thumb (from planet Phil-Mitchell). Best were clips of comedy giants like Norman Evans and Frank Randle…magical.

* RANDOM irritations: Gok – he spent the last two years getting unappetising women to strip off, now he’s dressing them. Make your effing mind up mate. Grayson Perry – pointless on Question Time. Or anywhere. And buzzer-mad, power-crazed Piers Moron on America’s Got Talent. Cowell means it. Moron is just playing up for the cameras. What he knows about talent could be tattooed on Ronnie Corbett’s foreskin.

* KAREN, 46, enjoyed a sham marriage on Tribal Wives. “Take your pants off, don’t be shy,” the Huaorani women chanted. “We all have vaginas.” It was like a hen night in Blackpool. But less primitive.

* SOME athletes are taking Viagra before races. And you thought it was tough to call when a sprinter won by a nose. This could cause chaos in the men’s relay: “That’s not a baton, but don’t stop gripping it…”

* SMALL joys of TV: Clarkson. Paul O’Grady (Dr Who). David Bamber as a snooty Fargo’s waiter (Enders). News 24 caption: ‘Severed foot found, officials stumped’. And Kat (BB9) - wasn’t she Bingo in The Banana Splits?

* HOT on Gladiators: trainee surgeon Fiona, a woman equipped to deal with many a throbbing lump. And any injuries too.

* BRAD DJ’ed on EastEnders. “Have you got the Klaxons?” asked a brat. No, it’s just the way his trousers hang. For the Smashing Pumpkins see Dawn.

* Win Tommy Cooper’s Just Like That DVD only in the Daily Star Sunday today.

My June playlist: ‘Wide Awake’ by Everybody Out, ‘No Regrets’ by Argy-Bargy, ‘Change My Ways’ by the Pietasters.

June 22. WAS Mad Dr May really that bad on EastEnders? May locked Jane in a storage cupboard. For that relief, much thanks. She branded Dawn a stupid bitch – no argument there. And she walloped Mickey round the head with a crow-bar. It’s OK though, it didn’t dent it. To be honest, I liked the woman. Summer’s little face certainly lit up when she saw her, too, although that may have been the gas explosion. May, the Square’s former GP (Galloping Psycho) ended her demented quest to abduct Dawn’s baby by blowing herself up. You may think it odd that a woman this resourceful didn’t settle for the relatively safer option of adoption… But I enjoyed her Ninja-like ability to creep up on Mickey undetected. And her compulsive need to diagnose her victims. “Superficial haematoma, scalp laceration,” she cooed after clubbing him, before telling Dawn that “Rest, ice, compression, elevation” was the best way to treat her newly fractured leg. It’s just a shame the disgraced doc never got to “treat” cheating husband Rob. 1) May breaks his neck, mutters “Cervical fracture.” 2) She rips off his balls, curtly noting “Uterectomy with bi-lateral castration…”

May’s gas explosion made a mess of Millers’ entire ground floor, although the untrained eye might strain to spot the difference. Locked in an upstairs bedroom, with smoke pouring under the door, congenital nincompoops Mickey and Dawn took a full five minutes to hit on the idea of opening a window. D’oh! And five minutes more to think of throwing Summer out of it… But Dr Mad did some good. She galvanized Keith Miller, that useless lump of human flotsam, into risking his life to save Dawn. Well done, mate. (Normally when Keith wants to get his hands dirty he just runs them through his hair.) And the Costco-size can of grief she dumped on Dawn distracted us from tiresome nonsense like Pat’s lost wedding ring and Shirley’s Best Of British day. Funny, the Vic was the only pub in East London that didn’t celebrate St George’s Day, but everyone took a sneaky day off for the union. Who writes this stuff, Gordon Brown? Still at least Heather’s twin turned up for the party. Oh, I’m sorry, that was a bouncy castle. * BBC1’s episode summary said: “A crack appears in Jack and Tanya’s relationship.” Didn’t he see that weeks ago?

* ON Big Bro, Alexenda has been replaced by Sid Snot. Shame. They should have gone for someone equally calm and reasonable. Like Abu Qatada. Pretty-boy Stuart made Jennifer’s eyes light up like Canary Wharf, instantly putting Dull Dale’s nose out of joint. He applies his mascara better than Jennifer. And has “never loved anyone”…except himself.

* NASTY, yes, but Alex gave us the quote of the series so far: “Take your bra off, Mohamed, take your bra off.” (You could count the times that’s been said at mosques on the fingers of one hook.)

* DUBIOUS BB look-alikes: Alex – an angry ant. Tim Teeman (BBLB) – a camp puppet (Thunderbirds are gay). Lisa – an over-sized ventriloquist’s dummy. Mario – a constipated Peter Andre having a dump.

* PANIC broke out on Doctor Who cos “The Darkness is coming.” Yeah? Hope they don’t sing that rubbish Christmas single. Oh and Donna had a beetle on her back that tried to rewrite history. It was like Paul McCartney’s last marriage in reverse… Russell T. Davies rewriting astronomy was worse, though. The stars-going-out was a dramatic scene. But Orion is 1200-plus light years away. If it vanished today we wouldn’t know about it until the next millennium. This was a sci-fi Sliding Doors: what if Donna had turned right instead of left and had never met the Doctor. But why didn’t this Doc regenerate? He’s died quickly before. And how did humans master time travel in a few months? Russell didn’t say. He never does… Enough nit-picking. For all Russ’s lazy writing, Doctor Who often hits like Naomi Campbell. I’m glad he remembered it… And the Daleks, Cybermen, the Master…and now Davros. (When Russell got the OBE, I assumed it stood for Obviously Borrowing Everything – cos Old Big ’Ead was taken.) But isn’t it time the Doc found a new super-villain? One who reflects today’s fears?

* ENDERS beat Who this week: their doctor really died, two of their stars are secretly going out and as for that Bobby Davros…

* FOR the real ‘Bad Wolf’ see Oblivion on The Gladiators. “The Big O” stands for the fat zero between his ears.

HOT on TV: Mad May on EastEnders – greatest come-back since Turkey…Lynne Koplitz (Paramount Comedy) – fit and funny …Noah’s resurrection (Heroes) – come again… and Beth Rowley – finally The Culture Show’s got talent.

ROT on TV: David Pleat – more off-target than Croatia … Imagine – as lifeless as Martian soil…Tribal Wives – tourism for Guardian-reading twonks…Coldplay at The BBC – as gutless as a Cabinet jobsworth… Bingo Night Live...and moaning Mario (BB9) – we know he’s not two-faced; if he was, why keep that one?

* RANDOM irritations: Rosie Webster’s permanent pout. Corrie blokes being wimpy jokes. The Sweeney, Britain’s greatest-ever TV cops, written off as “macho idiots” by some C4 nonentity. Billie Piper talking like she’s got a set of false teeth in. Zezi Eyesore (BBLB). Alex being expelled for her gangsta crap, and not her karaoke…

* ITV is reviving antique quiz show Double Your Money. It replaces their usual method of doubling their money, by adding some phone lines.

* STRANGE white powder has been found on Mars. Does that mean Chelsea Fox got there first?

* NEW movie Teeth is about a woman whose private parts bite. The last time I saw a twat with teeth on screen she was fattening up Gordon Ramsay’s veal calves.

* FIFTY viewers complained about Joan Rivers swearing on Loose Women. Amazing. Who knew that many watched the show?

* POOR Joan. I think her surgeon took a shine to her. Literally.

* CHUCK on Back To You talking about his messy desk: “I’m sorry if I invaded your personal space by a few inches.” Kelly: “At least this time it won’t get me pregnant.”

* SMALL joys of TV: Evil Elle, electric girl (Heroes). Vintage John Cleese Pretzel ads (Commercial Breakdown). Lurleen Lumpkin’s return (The Simpsons). Judge Clark Brown (Boston Legal). And the gay-way birds on Wild China. They must have migrated from Emmerdale.

June 15. YES! Lee McQueen soared to victory on The Apprentice with the grace of a Phil ‘The Power’ Taylor nine-dart finish. Not even the shock revelation that Lee probably shaves his testicles could rock Sir Alan’s faith in the man. Quite right too. Claire Young was bright and capable but she has a gob on her like the gateway to hell. She would have done Sugar’s head-in as surely as a two-stone Acme anvil dropped from a great height (which to Al is about 5ft 5). So in the dog-eat-dog world of reality TV, Claire was the one left wearing Kennomeat knickers.

But at least she was dignified in defeat. Unlike sulky man-child Alex who wept like a baby, confirming that he is a cock of elephantine proportions…as well as a slippery buck-passing weasel. Lee was the perfect candidate, a self-made bloke from a humble background who wanted it and went for it. A rough diamond, just like short-arsed Sugar himself.

The last task was to design a fragrance for men. Lee’s semi-porn ad directing was hilarious (“Desire him, Chloe”) and his no-nonsense pitch was inspired – Lee’s target customer “wants to look like a man, to smell like a man.” (Rhona Cameron?) He should have called it ‘Geezer’ or ‘McQueen’ instead of Roulette. Or A-Hard - so when your date asks what you’ve got on, she’s never disappointed.

As the sacked contenders returned, you realised that none of them were anywhere near as loathsome as the latest Big Brother inmates. Not even Michael Sophocles who is the sort of bloke who calls out his own name during sex.

Big Bro’s Alexandra is evil personified. She could have been grown in a Petri dish using cells from Charley Uchea mixed with the DNA of Robert Mugabe and left to fester for ten years in a vat of bile and resentment. Or Croydon as it’s known to locals. Scowling Alex has come with more baggage than an Osmonds family holiday. She kicks off more than Euro 2008. The only things in her favour are that 1) her chip (on shoulder) rant stopped Thicky Pollard squawking for a half a day. 2) She isn’t Dennis or Mario. This year makes it clear. Sugar rules Reality TV. Davina – you’re fired.

* UNRELIABLE TV fact: play join-the-dots with Claire’s moles and they actually spell “Nightmare.”

* SMALL joys of TV: Darnell wrestling Kat (Big Brother). Kat’s accent (“Hello Big Brudda”). May’s merry-go-round of madness (EastEnders). Clare in her England strip (ditto). Tempest (Gladiators) “a force of nature in the ring”, apparently. And C4 accidentally running subtitles from The Simpsons during Deal Or No Deal (D’oh!). This should be done when Gordon Brown is on screen.

* DAN had his spleen whipped out on Corrie. Becky just had her pants whipped off. By Steve McDonald! What a tart. And Becky’s just as bad. Even Carla Bruni thinks she puts it about a bit. Mind you, if Michelle does find out she won’t have the hump for long – look how easily she forgave Sean for sleeping with Sonny and Leanne for being her dead brother’s favourite whore. She hasn’t even sued the hospital for giving her the wrong baby. Strange things are happening in t’Street. Steve and Lloyd have had personality rewrites and the Rovers’ recent refurb was more drastic than we realised. That door to the cellar used to lead to the gents too. But there are no urinals down there now. No wonder the beer tastes like piss.

* WHAT’S become of grandad Morton? I get the feeling that if you ask for kebab meat you don’t always get what you ordered…

* WHAT’S more annoying on EastEnders: that huge picture of Christian’s punchable face – nearly as big as his real head? Or Sad Brad hiding from his hot boss? Be a man and put in some (leg) over-time, you muppet.

* HARD-faced slapper Shirley is running the Vic. Strewth that rictus grin would put you off your pint quicker than a Heather Trott lap-dance. Hefty Heather still can’t get laid. She could try having a band inside her. But even Babyshambles wouldn’t stoop that low.

* AT football training, Clare was on her back, legs apart, straining as she tried to impress a bloke. So no change there.

HOT on TV: Lee McQueen – that’s who I’m talkin’ about…the dazzling Dutch (Euro 2008)…Sean Lock…Battlestar Galactica…a very creepy Doctor Who…and Ray Wise as the devil on Reaper – the funniest Prince of Darkness since Ozzy Osbourne.

ROT on TV: Michael Gore’s manky teeth (Question Time) …Alexandra the Grating (BB9)…Summer Heights High – new comedy low…Britain’s Biggest Baby – they missed the real one, Steve McDonald…The Hotel Inspector Revisits – as exciting as a stale scone…and Who Remembers What Not To Wear? No-one.

* HOT not on TV: Kiria, whose ‘Live Sex On Stage’ single is out on i-tunes tomorrow. This girl has more buzz than a Sex & The City vibrator.

* EVEN Kelsey Grammar can’t breathe life into Back To You. He’s terrific as a pompous gas-bag. But the humour is a tired mix of corn and unimaginative smut.

* LOOSE Women’s audience is 90% female. Much like Claire Balding.

* KATIE Price says most men’s fantasy “to do” list is: Halle Berry, Angelina Jolie, Jessica Alba, and Jessica Simpson. How ridiculous. At least with Ulrika you’d have half a chance. I’d settle for Audrey Tautou. She’s sexier than all of them and you’re more likely to bump into her on the cross channel ferry.

* RANDOM irritations: Piers Moron monstering nine-year-olds (America’s Got Talent). MPs who bang on about cheap booze but never mention their own subsidised bars. The BBC employing football flop McClaren – why waste our lolly on the wally with the brolly? And Big Bro’s Mario moaning that Jennifer’s skimpy shorts were “degrading”. Idiot. I’d be happy if she wore them every day. And bent over more.

* WIN Don Letts’s Punk Rock Movie on DVD! Contest in the Daily Star Sunday today.

* Why did Russell T. Davies get an OBE? For remembering Doctor Who was a great show? Well, ok then, we’d better honour the Life On Mars boys for remembering The Sweeney too. Or better still dig up Ian Kennedy Martin and knight him posthumously for creating it in the first place (ditto Leon Griffiths for coming up with the timeless genius of Minder).

June 14. This week Gordon Brown’s ‘Labour’ Government brought in internment laws for British citizens. Anyone the cops don’t like the look of can now be held without charge for six weeks. In the name of security, Magna Carta has been over-turned and hard-won English liberties cancelled out. Why? The case for ‘42 days’ makes no sense. The Commons voted to extend the period of detention without charge "for terrorist suspects" from 28 (it used to be 14) to 42 days – a figure apparently plucked from the air, or from a Douglas Adams book. But so far no-one has been held for 28 days so why was the change necessary? Surely not just to make wobbling Brown look like a tough leader? There was a Commons majority against the change but Brown won the vote by blatant bribery. (£1.2 billion for Northern Ireland. Et tu, Brute?) Brown’s mates at the soar-away Sun said that to vote against Brown’s detention proposal was tantamount to voting for al-Qaeda. But the opposite is true. A few fanatical Islamic bombers have panicked us so much that we’ve given the State draconian powers and weakened the rights of individual citizens. The terrorists haven’t won, but they have chalked up a substantial victory. They have changed Britain, for the worse.

Former Sun editor Kelvin MacKenzie argues in favour of banging people up to preserve our freedom…Priceless, Kelvin. Orwell would have taken his hat off to you, son. A few thoughts: 1) No terrorist will be deterred by the prospect of six weeks in nick. 2) These powers will be abused just as surveillance laws have been. The Regulatory of Investigatory Powers Act was supposed to be used to protect national security. Now we’ve got council snoopers spying on our bins. ’42-days’ will inevitably be used not against Abdul Nutter but against anti-EU agitators or John and Jenny Smith on a green protest or Sid Boggis, union militant. Their lives will be turned upside down, their business, if they have one will be ruined, their neighbours will never trust them again, and The Sun will say they had it coming. They should have kept their gobs shut, doffed their caps and watched Big Brother all their lives. Better still have surveillance cameras in your home and let Big Brother watch you. After all, they’ll say “if you’re doing nothing wrong why worry?” The Police State is coming and we’re walking in to it with our eyes wide open. That’s why David Davis is right and why anyone who values English freedom should back him to the hilt.

June 7. ANOTHER week, a different reality… Instead of Amanda Holden shedding tears of leaking Botox over talented youngsters, we now have Davina squawking like Lee McQueen’s reverse pterodactyl about a fresh batch of Big Brother fame-chasers. Roll up, roll up for more needy show-offs, bores, big-heads, meat-heads and deviants. The crowd took an instant dislike to many of them, which clearly saves time, although there’s no-one here as obviously detestable as Sezer or as bonkers as Shahbaz. Unless you count dance student Dennis, who turned up in a daft hat but would look far better in a heavy coating of tar and feathers. Dennis is what would happen if Graham Norton mated with a haggis. He is 23 going on fifty, and makes Antony Cotton seem like Alistair Darling. Dismal.

Matt Lucas could have cast this. There’s Rebecca, a motor-mouth Thicky Pollard sound-alike who rates herself an 8 in the IQ stakes (presumably out of 100), and spent the first night hyperventilating. There’s dumpy Kathryn as Ting-Tong (Nancy Lame). And Dennis - the only cartoon gay in the village. Mario (real name Sean), 42, and Lisa, 40, the show’s first couple, reckon people “like watching them.” (What are they, doggers?) Mario reminds Lisa of Joey from Friends, presumably in a Hall of Mirrors. He looks more like a waxwork Sly Stallone that’s been left too close to a fire. More Dimbo than Rambo. Hilariously (or not) he must pretend to wed Scouse Stephanie, 19, which could drive Lisa into a violent revenge attack that could result in the new hosts of BBLB being hospitalised. If we’re lucky.

On the plus side, Steph, Jennifer and Rachel are hot enough to be in MTV’s The Hills. Alexandra is Charley-lite. “I’m not an IT girl,” she said. “I am it.” She’s certainly full of it. Alexandra was pregnant at 15. A late starter. She is one of two lapsed Muslims. There’s also a blind drag act, two immigrants, a British-born albino back from the US (probably caught the red-eye), and Luke, a token geek from Wigan who could be George Formby reincarnate. He certainly has his suit. Luke thinks he looks like Justin Timberlake. He’s actually more like Mark E. Smith from the Fall with the lug-holes of Topo Gigio. Sadly there is no uber-geezer, no Victor Ebuwa to “lay pipe”. Only “arrogant” Dale looks like he’d enjoy being at Rooney’s stag do. But at least we’ll have a summer of babes in bikinis.

* AH. Interview Week, always an Apprentice highlight. Sugar’s band of business bastards tore into the candidates like ravenous piranhas presented with the freshly bleeding rump of Ruth Badger. They saw straight through Loopy Lucinda, roughed up Alex, the shop window dummy, and even ruffled Lee McQueen’s composure - though making the great man do his pterodactyl impression was entrapment, Kelmsley, goddammit. Some say Alex (“fluent in English,” “agile”) has few merits, apart from being 24. But in fairness it won’t be too long until he’s 25. Who will win? Lee I reckon, or over-bearing Claire. But what do I know? Gurning clod Simon got the job last year, and no-one saw that coming. It’s just a shame the Bastards don’t get more air time. Forget Gavin Esler, Paul Kelmsley and Claude Litner should be on Newsnight, gobbling up useless politicians. Kap-pow! Nobody expects the Jewish Inquisition.

* ON EastEnders Chelsea was getting as high as gas prices. She’s an over-night coke addict (just like Janine was) - despite snorting less gear than Amy Winehouse spills on a trip to the shops. It’s huge swinging cobblers of course, but it fades to insignificance compared to other Walford bilge. Like the Millers’ demented reaction to a five-number Lotto win – worth about £2K, not enough to pay off the average credit card bill. Maddest of all was Ricky Butcher passing a kid’s IQ test. This is Fick Rick we’re talking about here, a man who would lose a game of snap to a banana. On the plus side, that bird from the Commitments looks liable to eat Bradley alive, freckle by freckle. And Mad May is back with evil in her heart. Good. We could do with more deaths in the Square. Starting with the writers and the producer.

HOT on TV: Becky’s seduction techniques (Corrie)…The Apprentice interrogation team – make the Gestapo look like Care Bears…Frankie Muniz (Criminal Intent) …Escala…Faryl…and the Peep Show finale – Sects & The City.

ROT on TV: Great British Body – the reason clothes were invented…Sue Perkins being “wacky” – as funny as thrush…Nicky Hambleton-Jones…duff film buff Mark Kermode…and Andrew Graham-Dixon (Culture Show) – Andrew Grating Dick.

* RANDOM irritations: One sixth of all good-causes Lotto money being spent on bureaucracy. Men who wear crocs – grow up! Ugly people stripping off in public “for art.” And SC4 - a bigger waste of public money than BBC3.

* GREAT British Body - three pointless hours of flab, freaks, fools and flashers. “Trinny and Susannah were blown away,” claimed the limp voice-over. No such luck. But give me a bazooka…

* FIVE had a documentary about women who are sexually aroused by inanimate objects. Is this really unusual? Surely all women are aroused by inanimate objects…wallets, credit cards, jewellery…

* ONE nut shagged a fairground ride, another bonked a bridge (the sex was riveting.) Both got turned on by wooden fences. You know who started all this? That bird who married John Fashanu.

* WHAT was the most degrading thing anyone did on TV this week: strip off for Trinny and Tranny, romp with a banister or defend Gordon Brown on Question Time?

* SMALL joys of TV: Karl Pilkington as a Mick Miller look-alike caveman (Culture Show). Roy Hudd (Florence Nightingale). Big Rump Kate (Broken Trail). House quote: “How’s our mental Yentl?” And any Doctor Who written by Steven Moffat.

* AMANDA Holden told George Sampson he was an inspiration to other youngsters. She’s right. Most 14-year-old boys hate washing.

* BRITAIN loves talent shows. Didn’t we know this already? The only people surprised are the clueless Tarquins who run TV. One day they’ll reinvent gag-telling comics and be amazed all over again.

June 3. New pod-cast up and running HERE with tracks from Censored, the Unseen, Superyob and many more. Guests are Vix from Vix N the Kix and rock scribe turned author Barry Cain.

May 31. ITV, Wednesday night, and a group of make-believe gypsies are shaking their ample wobbly bits to Hips Don’t Lie. Better make that Chips Don’t Lie, girls. Britain’s Got Talent. It’s mad, flawed, entertaining, infuriating…and a run-away smash all over again. It’s delivered huge ratings, got the whole country talking and showcased a few acts with genuine potential. And far too many without it… Why was tone-deaf, fumble-fingered keyboard-player Michael Machell even in the semis? It was the equivalent of putting chicken factory nutter Robert Unwin though to the X-Factor boot-camp. The deluded chump slaughtered the Star Wars theme from a miniature spaceship, but the only unearthly thing about him was his hair colour. What was it, Chewbacca brown? Like Kay and Harvey, Michael was there to be laughed at. Wouldn’t you rather have seen a decent comedian? (Amanda praised Kay’s breath control. Frankly I was more grateful for her birth control. Please don’t reproduce.) “Originality” is Simon Cowell’s buzz-word this series. Cowell called Kate and Gin, the dancing dog, “original”. He clearly didn’t see Tina and Chandi on When Will I Be Famous last year. Two blokes doing Jacko’s Thriller routine with a bit of bhangra chucked in “original” only in the sense that no-one else would have thought they’d get away with it. Novelty is not enough. A camp bloke in a hula hoop might be different but he has all the future of a Walford marriage. Stand-outs were Faryl, Escala, shy “bullied” choir-boy Andrew and the incredible George Sampson – such energy, such passion, such a unique way of washing your clothes… Decent also-rans included Craig Harper, Irresistible (who looked like Russell Brand’s to-do list), Dean Wilson, kid comic Charlie Wernham and Charlie Green (penalised bizarrely for singing an original song.) Naff turns and average dance troupes abounded. The drag act was dull, the dancing fat bird pointless and magician Carl Dean looked as happy as John Prescott at a salad bar. Village hall losers blighted the series. BGT needs more semi-pros. The drag act was dull. Magician Carl Dean looked as happy as John Prescott at a salad bar. When BGT returns next year it needs fewer village hall losers, and more semi-pros. Proper grown-up comic contenders too. Op Knocks unearthed Les Dawson, Freddie Starr, Ken Goodwin. New Faces: Barrymore, Victoria Wood, Jim Davidson. Search For A Star: Joe Longthorne, Jimmy Cricket, Dave Wolfe. BGT: Michael Machell. Must do better chaps. Must do better.

* YES! Soph is off the Apprentice at last. Michael ‘Judas’ Sophocles, self-adoring jack-ass and “natural-born salesman”, came gloriously unstuck trying to hire out a Ferrari in Portobello market. All that veg and he was still the biggest turnip on display. Yet he still had the nerve to praise his own “glimmers of brilliance.” Soph is a man who should only be allowed on TV with the word ‘Arse’ emblazoned across his forehead in indelible ink. It’s just a shame the lightweights on You’re Fired gave him such an easy ride. Next out? Loopy Lucinda, please! All she does is whinge and moan. But Lucinda has got a TV future. With her vast collection of berets, she’d make a great Emmerdale extra. Or a mighty fine corpse on Rosemary & Thyme.

HOT on TV: Doctor Who – scariest library this side of Hogwarts …Steve Buscemi (ER)…Neil Diamond – diamond warbler…Bones season finale …Georgina Rylance (Inspector Lynley)… and Charlotte Jackson (Sentanta) – hot enough to melt Fergie’s ice bath.

ROT on TV: Bang On - bog off!... Gordon Ramsay’s F-Word - a tasteless hash…The Invisibles – the Chuckle Brothers in balaclavas; a good cast wasted…the dull, repetitive Life Without Humans – TV without point…Last Comic Standing…My Car Is My Lover – not funny, just sick. And Datsun understatement.

* IF Mary Whitehouse were alive today, My Car Is My Lover would have finished her off. Chrysler Almighty! Is there no end to the weirdoes TV will serve up for the titillation of idiots? Whenever Ed Smith gets a Mini to himself, he has sex with it. He crept out in the night to pleasure himself over another creep’s motor, bringing new meaning to the term “car-jacking.” And he didn’t even put his hand up to say thank you. Ed’s biggest ‘conquest’ was the TV chopper Air Wolf, which is said to have crashed shortly after, although on balance it might have been suicide. May he injure himself fatally up a the red hot exhaust pipe of a heavy goods vehicle and perish HGV positive.

* MY Car Is My Lover. Truly weird. Although I did once have a tyre go down on me…

* NANCY must show a “sacred flame,” said Lloyd-Webber. Did he want a singer or an arsonist? Shame this series never caught fire. Jodie to win.

* OVER on EastEnders, Chelsea is on Charlie. The drug, not the Slater, although frankly that’s a storyline I’d rather see...

* JERRY Morton had a heart attack on Corrie. Yeah, it happened after he read in the paper that his whole family are getting axed…

* POOR Jerry. Who knew living on beer, fry-ups, chips and kebabs could be bad for you? He’ll be OK though. Scientists can grow human hearts now. If they could grow a new brain for Kirk, everyone would be laughing.

* MEMO to Corrie: can’t you move Norris’s CCTV cameras to the Ladies in the Rovers? Just on the off-chance that Carla, Tina, Rosie and Maria ever get the urge to “do a Nereida”…

* RANDOM irritations: Hyper-active camera-work on Britain’s Got Talent – zipping about like Clarkson on an open road. Fearne Cotton. And Sean Slater stomping about like he’s just been expelled from Nancy school. I’d like to pump this odious bully full of PCP and tell him that Tanya has been having it off with Mike Tyson. We could scrape him off the ground after a day or so.

* MONICA on Heroes has adoptive muscle memory, meaning she can instantly copy anything she sees. Dr Suresh is a good man, but surely even he must be tempted to slip Deep Throat and other classic porn flicks into her DVD pile? “OK, you’ve learnt karate, but have you seen what Jenna Jameson can do?”

* SMALL joys of TV: Johnny Cash Night (BBC4). The Drench water Thunderbirds advert. Kate Humble’s cold tits (Springwatch) The first ad during the car sex show being for Kwik-Fit...

May 25. MAYBE it’s my age, but these days TV doesn’t make me think. It makes me rant until my eyes bulge. If the box isn’t bullying us with licence ads worthy of the Stasi, it’s patronising us “for our own good.” This week, the Duchess of Dull hit Hull. Sarah Ferguson descended on a chain-smoking underclass family to turn her royal nose up at their tasty-looking mystery meat burgers. Sadly she didn’t say, “Come on now peasants, finish off your veg; there are children in Sloane Square with eating disorders.” Even more sadly, they didn’t eat her. The old Dutch means well, but I’d rather watch Gillian McKeith give Heather Trot a televised enema in slo-mo than suffer any more of her babbling psycho-twaddle. Food is telly’s latest obsession. Food, spurious food. We need more cooking shows like Iron Man needs rusty nuts, but that didn’t stop BBC2 dishing up a daily dollop of Great British Menu. Why do the stuck-up judges make the chefs prepare portions that would only satisfy an anorexic jockey? And who wants to eat a sliver of fish served with weeds and seeds on a roof-slate anyway? They richly deserve a wet fish served briskly round the chops. (Oddly tobacco-flavoured rhubarb is thought of as posh nosh here, but in Hull…)

Food fever even hit the soaps. On Corrie, Harry served Liz his “world famous stew.” You’ll have seen tastier-looking puddles. Won’t be long before she’s sampling his battered sausage… The Websters scoff up to eleven cooked meals a day without putting on an ounce – explain that Fergie. On EastEnders, Mad Jean hosted Come Whine With Me, and even Minty got the cooking bug. He made Heffer a fondue including her favourite cheese, Stinky Bishop. (Insert your own gag here). I understand he had tried making her alphabet soup but abandoned it when it kept spelling out: ‘Why, Minty, Why?’ Why indeed. Why would the big lug want his sham marriage to work? Why is Sean Slate-Loose suddenly interested in Tanya again two whole months after she dumped him? Why have the hard-working Masoods got money troubles when loafer Keith Miller floats through life on other people’s sweat? These are the questions. We have as much chance of getting answers as Bugs Bunny has of surviving Ramsay’s kitchen. Or Brown has of seeing Christmas in Number Ten.

* Those Walford food faves in full. The Masoods: eviction stew - the bay-leafs are coming. Mad Jean: Crackers…Roxy loves to dip soldiers in the morning. Then she gets up and has a boiled egg.

Britain has talent like Gordon Brown has worries, but has ITV found the best of it? Let’s hope not. This second series of the smash hit show has been under-par, underwhelming and more drawn out than Hillary vs Obama. Spread over eight weeks instead of ten days, Britain’s Got Talent has become clichéd and predictable. Yes, they’ve found class acts. My money is on 12-year-old Faryl Smith to storm it next Saturday. You wouldn’t bet against Andrew Johnston or Flava making the final either. But odds-on it will be an all-singing, all-dancing affair. Most of the rest – the performing dog, the belly dancer – are novelty acts with no hope of a long-term showbiz future. Previous TV talent shows unearthed greats like Victoria Wood, Lenny Henry, Marti Caine and Joe Pasquale. There’s no-one like them in this contest. Why? Partly because his satanic majesty Simon Cowell finds comedians “old-fashioned.” Partly cos all he really understands is a narrow type of pop. With other turns, Cowell is often out of step with the audience. Each week it’s been the same: a procession of loonies and losers inter-cut with brief glimpses of acts with real promise. There are more sob-stories than a wet week in Walford, the judges moan that they’ve found no-one and it ends, miraculously, with a show-saving performance. But there’s too much naff and too little wow. Piers is keener on winding up Cowell than in putting through genuine contenders. Consequently rubbish turns like Michael ‘Star Wars’ Machell have made it through to the live shows. Lousy acts are funny, especially if they think they’re good. We’ve known this since the Gong Show. Des O’Connor’s 1992 talent show Pot Of Gold included a deluded wannabe section. But BGT seems more concerned with finding nitwits than stars. Op Knocks and New Faces weeded out the rubbish and encouraged pros and semi-pros to take part. But if you were a club entertainer earning a good living why would you want to be ridiculed by some puffed-up buffoon (sorry, Piers) who doesn’t know your trade or appreciate your skills? BGT needs a wider net, better researchers and sharper judges.

* ON Peep Show, Natalie used a drunken Mark for sex. “Do you have feelings of guilt, shame and self-loathing?” asked Jez. “You know I do,” Mark replied. “Don’t load the question.” Why is this black comedy about two shallow middle class losers such a cult hit? Is it because it says the un-sayable? Or because it holds up a mirror to the sort of people we’ve become? Jez is a needy work-shy freeloader. Mark’s a fogeyish coward Mark, as chipper as John Terry after that penalty. The Likely Lads they ain’t. When it comes to cringe-inducing bad taste, writers Armstrong and Bain outstrip Larry David. Jez has faked a terminal illness for sexual favours and eaten the leg of an accidentally barbecued dog in front of his owner. He’s used the Queen’s image in a sperm bank and relieved himself against a church while thinking “Richard Dawkins can talk the talk, but does he walk the walk?” Both are emotional cripples with no values or morals. They are modern men, half-men in fact. And the writers hate them for it.

HOT on TV: Champions League final…Heroes…new NCIS (FX)… Desperate Housewives – storming…and At Home With The Hattons – Ricky’s a hit, man.

ROT on TV: The Supersizers Go – I wish they would…Chelsea’s Malouda – was he even on the pitch?...Loose Women – afternoon yack (© The Simpsons)…Living With The Dead…and Uncle Inzamam (EastEnders) - goodness, gracious FLEE!

RANDOM irritations: Sugar saving sloth-eyed Soph again. Phone lines on Great British Menu – how can we vote for food we can’t taste? Sex & The City over-kill. ITV’s inexplicable devotion to Antony ‘Rotten’ Cotton. And Jenny Scott (The Daily Politics) – spruce yourself up, love, you look like a librarian.

* WHEN will Sean Slater have a proper fight? He’s kicked in a gate, over-turned a table…Sean will take on anything wooden and helpless. So Ricky Butcher had better watch his back.

* ROXY will know if the baby is Sean’s. It won’t just kick. It’ll head-butt.

* CONFESSION time. Inspired by Embarrassing Bodies I had a penis extension this week. The house looks bloody silly now. * SMALL joys of TV: Teräsbetoni (Eurovision). New baddie Elle on Heroes (it’s Veronica Mars!). UFO’s ‘Doctor Doctor’ on the Scrubs trailer. And Fergie having to explain who she is/was on Duchess In Hull: “You’ve heard of the Queen of England, have you? The Queen was my mother-in-law.”

* THE only way we’ll ever win Eurovision is for every UK country to put in separate entries and vote for each other like all the others do. Bent, anti-British, and rigged…the contest stinks like Rick Stein’s bins. It’s like the EU with crap songs.

* RICKY Hatton addressing a dinner: “It’s a pleasure to be standing in front of all you fine people…After the last fight, I’m just happy to be standing.”

* SEX & The City got two thumbs up from US movie critics. Which by coincidence is also Samantha’s favourite move…

* THOSE Apprentice adverts were lousy. But on balance probably less suspect than any tissue ad Katie Hopkins might have inspired.

May 18. HURRAH! Gladiators is back. Only now it’s called Gladdy-a’uhs. Is that right, Wrighty? Glad-ee-a-ers! Ian Wright quit as a BBC football pundit cos he was fed up being a “comedy jester.” And where better for the great man to demonstrate his gravitas than on a show where muscle-bound nitwits in tight-fitting lycra wallop each other with over-sized Q-Tips? Ardent Gladiators fans, myself included, were worried that Sky might fail to pull off the sports-panto pizzazz of the ITV original. Back then we had Ulrika, who was always liable to go on the first whistle. Usually with Hunter (bet he was glad-he-ate-her). Now we have Kirsty Gallacher, a nice little gurner. Plus battling babes like pouty Tempest and the well-racked red-head Inferno, an unfortunate victim of the camel’s hoof. Enigma looks like a tougher Victoria Beckham (Cosh Spice?), while Panther makes Taggart seem like a lost Chuckle Brother. What makes her smile, an open grave? Scariest is the aptly-named Battleaxe, a hefty bird, obviously inspired by Bela Emberg. All she’s short of are curlers, a rolling pin and the catchphrase “Have you been drinking?” Jet’s still No 1 - you’d love to see her taking off - but over-all the totty quality is improved.

The blokes look toned but lack character. You wouldn’t fancy their chances against Hunter or Rhino in their prime. Pumped-up ham Oblivion is desperate to be the new Wolf. He looks like a mad hen, refers to himself as “the big O” (short for oaf), and is eminently slappable. Expect Tornado and Atlas to wow the women. (Why are all the new Glads named after theme park rides by the way?) Sky has changed the Eliminator assault course, adding fire, cotton reels and a swimming pool – for reasons that are unclear, most events now take place over water. Moans? Replacing Queen with Britney (sacrilege), not rehiring John Sachs as commentator, budget cuts… All the smoke bombs and laser beams can’t disguise the fact that the arena is smaller, the direction looser and the contenders less impressive – they were laughably useless in Duel. Still, Mighty Wrighty is a big improvement on laid-back Fash. His impression of a man whose life-long adversary is the autocue was masterful. Feel the diminished power of the cut-price Gladiators. Awooga!

* LOVED contender Janine’s tattooed butterflies. Her Bordered Patch looks stunning up close. And I’d love to see her Swallowtail. Wonder if I could interest her in my Purple Emperor?

* “WHO will be the first to go down?” asked commentator Alan Parry. I have my theories, but the libel laws prevent me from saying.

* HOW is Michael Sophocles still in The Apprentice? What qualities does Sugar see in this resentful, backstabbing, droopy-eyed, self-deluding slime-ball? This week Soph called the public “dumb-dumbs” for not wanting to buy his poxy £600 wedding cake. He mucks up, but it’s always someone else’s fault. Arse. Soph has the air of a man who would fake an orgasm while pleasuring himself.

* JANE Moore on a Jodi Marsh style wedding dress: “I’d rather look like Rodney Marsh.”

* LAST night’s Doctor Who was bonkers. Felicity Kendall had been knocked up by a giant wasp (that’s gotta hurt). She’d given birth to a wasp-human hybrid who grew up to be a homicidal vicar. Agatha Christie was involved, and…I’m sorry, I think I must have dreamt this.

* A WASP! Who’d have guessed? People who heard buzzing in the boudoir assumed she had a rabbit…

* YEAH, she dated a wasp but fancied a beetle. Apparently his longhorn was spectacular. Caterpillars are no good; they take forever to get their legs over.

* THE vicar was smart. Maybe his real dad was a spelling bee…

* TARDIS graffiti: Rose Tyler gets the hornet.

HOT on TV: pensioner con artists (The Artful Codgers) – Carry On Carving…Monica (Heroes)…Sideshow Bob’s return (Simpsons) …Shahid Malik (Beadle tribute)… the Dexter finale…and Wild China – Asia can amaze ya…

HOT on TV: pensioner con artists (The Artful Codgers) – Carry On Carving…Monica (Heroes)…Sideshow Bob’s return (Simpsons) …Shahid Malik (Beadle tribute)… the Dexter finale…and Wild China – Asia can amaze ya…

ROT on TV: Geri Halliwell (F Word) – harder to get shot of than Hillary Clinton…Kirk’s berk of a girlfriend (Corrie) – dafter than Sarah Jessica Parker’s hat…Don’t Forget The Lyrics – you’ll never forget the horror…and Half-Ton Dad – hasn’t Eamonn Holmes suffered enough?

* DID you see Pat’s crutches on EastEnders? Which hospital treated her then, Casualty 1907? I haven’t seen a ropey pair of wooden crutches in the Square since Roxy and Ronnie turned up.

* SWEET. Roxy likes a little something to remind her of her drunken one-night stands. This time a baby, last time an STI…

* MINTY’S honeymoon snaps had zebras, giraffes, a hippo – or to give it its scientific name, Mrs. Peterson. Poor Heather. Even Lucian Freud wouldn’t paint her.

* RANDOM irritations: non-comics on BBC2’s Comedy Map, Chris Moyles last week, Arthur Smith last night… C4 phasing out John McCririck. And Midnight Man – if there was a rightwing hit squad in London there’d be no-one at Channel 4 left alive.

* CLASSIC clips on ITV’s An Audience Without Jeremy Beadle. Beadle knew comedy better than most TV execs. If ITV loved him as much as they say they did, why didn’t they give him more telly when he was alive?

* THE World’s Tallest Woman: 7ft 9 and not worth the climb.

* BROWN could win the Crewe by-election. He just needs ITV to count the votes.

* IS a fine the best way to punish ITV for their cheating ways? Wouldn’t it hurt more to make Ant & Dec perform without an autocue?

* LIAM told Maria “I felt something for Carla” on Corrie. He certainly did. Her breasts, her thighs, her buttocks…

* GAIL Platt voted for Tony Blair. Why does Corrie insist on endorsing this blundering chinless wonder who caused conflict everywhere? And Blair was just as bad. * DON’T Forget The Lyrics is karaoke with missing words, rotten singers and easy songs. The format echoes Who Wants To Be A Millionaire, except there’s zero tension - just Shane doing his holiday camp spiel and dancing. His moves recalled John Travolta in Pulp Fiction…the bit where he was machine-gunned. It’s dreadful. Possibly career suicide. Hari-Kari-oake.

* SMALL joys of TV: the inspired casting on Come Dine With Me. Kate’s smile (Lost). Carny. Dropkick Murphys on the Simpsons soundtrack. And CNN’s Iron Maiden special – love their plane, Ed Force One.

* Goofs and give-aways only in the Daily Star Sunday.

May 9. THE look on Sir Alan Sugar’s face was priceless. “Is it right,” he said, “that you asked a Muslim Halal butcher for a kosher chicken?” The contenders squirmed. It was right, and it was hilarious. The Apprentice’s road to Morocco was nearly as funny as Bob Hope’s. Sugar dispatched the two teams to Marrakesh to barter for ten items, including a chicken slaughtered according to Jewish rites. “Muslims have kosher chicken,” team leader Jennifer Maguire assured Renaissance. “Is there a mosque far from here?” She sent puffed-up creep Michael Sophocles and bitch queen Jenny “The Chin” Celerier into the heart of the souk. Poultry was plentiful, but Rabbis were as thin on the ground as snowmen. “I want this chicken blessed by someone from the mosque,” Chinny told the poulterer. “Religious, like this,” explained Michael, crossing himself. “You say the words, Allah, Allah.” Sugar was not impressed. “I don’t know why you didn’t go the whole hog and find a Roman Catholic priest to take the butcher’s confession,” he grumbled. Or indeed wrap the bird in “holy” bacon.

Michael had described himself as a good Jewish boy on his CV, but was he? “If you’re unsure you can always pull your trousers, we can check,” Sugar growled. Oy vey. “I’m only half-Jewish, Sir Alan,” said the schmuck defensively. (Later he put himself up to be project manager again, so at least he understands chutzpah.) Blue-Eyes Maguire led the shopping task against Lee McQueen. Big mistake. Men and women shop differently. Lee, typical bloke, worked out in advance where to go. Get in, get out, done. ("That's wot I'm talking abhart!") Jen, typical woman, wouldn’t pre-plan. She wanted to “just do a quick reccy”… of a five mile maze of shops and stalls. Even her formidable gurning skills couldn’t get her out of the resulting disaster. Shrewd old Sugar is slowly picking off the back-stabbers and bull merchants. He saw through Chinny’s porky pies and Jennifer’s blame-shifting game. But I’m amazed he went soft on Sophocles after the tennis racquet racket. Who will win? Don’t ask me, I was backing Simon. It probably won’t be Raef. This bloke’s so posh he makes Brian Sewell seem like an Asbo chav. Why would he want to slum it in Brentwood when he could be in Windsor, teaching the Royal princes how to deal with their superiors?

* CLASSIC Apprentice exchange. Nick, aghast at Michael’s ignorance: “He did classics at Edinburgh.” Margaret: “Edinburgh isn’t what it was.”

* MICHAEL mentioned his Chicken Fiasco. I believe it was featured on the Great British Menu. Halal breast meat, cooked in marg (I Can’t Believe It’s Not Buddah) and served in a skull-cap with humble pie.

* DISASTER at the Soap Awards. Some of those Hollyoaks girls were very nearly dressed. If it wasn’t for Emma Rigby’s cleavage, men would have wasted two whole hours watching it.

* WHO votes for these awards anyway? Where do you get nomination papers? Why don’t ITV show us the results? Is it made by Mugabe Productions? How do we know it’s not as bent as the Comedy Awards?

* LONDON was submerged by a 52-foot tidal wave on Flood. It was the biggest blue surge to hit the capital since Boris got elected. But what a wash-out! Flood had dire dialogue, a sodden, plodding script, and less tension than logic…and there wasn’t much of that. Why, when told to make for higher ground, did people head for Trafalgar Square? Were they planning to scale Nelson’s Column? Go to Canary Wharf, you chumps, and take the stairs! This dripping wet ITV version of a Hollywood disaster movie – not so much The Perfect Storm as a Perfect Shower. Still it did manage to wash away all that was left of Robert Carlyle’s cred (dig the London accent, man, he’s turned in to Jock Van Dyke!) What was Tom Courtenay thinking? David Suchet played the Deputy Prime Minister. There was no sign of his boss. Maybe like our real PM he was already dead in the water.

* IMAGINE if London was flooded. MPs would start buying yachts on expenses. Nuts TV would stage a million-strong wet t-shirt contest. Peter Andre would be using Jordan as a floatation device… But Ben Mitchell would remain the wettest kid in the city. And you can bet your life there’d still be a hosepipe ban.

HOT on TV: Georgia Moffett (Doctor Who) – Who’s your Daddy… new Lost (Sky One) …The Inbetweeners (E4)…Scubs (E4)… and Sylar’s return (Heroes) – evil enough to give Fritzl the creeps.

ROT on TV: EastEnders does Star Wars – Obi Wan Baloney…The Soap Awards – dopes on the ropes…Michael Sophocles - half-Jewish, half-wit...The Great British Menu – Pretentious? Moi?….and Flood – not so much a four hour disaster movie as a four hour disaster.

• DOCTOR Who got an instant teenage daughter from a machine last night.Austrian scientists are working round the clock trying to duplicate it.

* PAUL Merton: "Brian Blessed's wife has been found in an underground dungeon. It was completely soundproofed. She built it herself..."

* BRAD got all excited when Clare dressed up as Star Wars stunner Princess Leia on EastEnders. But the scheming tart wouldn’t even handle his light sabre. His love life is strictly Hans Solo.

* DON’T confuse Clare with the first Princess Leia. That was James Hewitt.

* NO sign of Jabba The Hutt. She’s still on honeymoon with Minty.

* LIAM to Bianca: “You look nice, are you going to court?”

* RANDOM irritations: Talk-Sport sacking James Whale and keeping Galloway. Grand Designs Live - who gives a toss about these smug gits and their boring houses? Tanya Byron’s feeble perverts’ edition of Am I Normal. What a waste of time and our money. Listen, if you’re in to sleazy sex with strangers you’re not normal, you’re just sad. And if you’re a doe-eyed creep lusting after pre-pubescent girls you want locking up.

* SIMON Cowell wants Britain’s Got Talent to find an “edgy” comedian. Why? Were Eric & Ernie edgy? Was Tommy Cooper? Or Ronnie Barker? ITV need the next Peter Kay, not another Armando Iannucci. ALL comics are welcome at our big Blackpool talent show (seachforastar.biz).

* ALBERT Hoffman, inventor of LSD, has died. He’ll be buried in an oval coffin by three pink unicorns and a giant woodlouse.

* SMALL joys of TV: CNN’s excitable business expert Ali Velshi. Cabbies giving relationship advice (LK Today). Punk legend Steve Whale’s walk-on part on EastEnders. And the car crash – Fat Pat, Splat!

* GEORDIE comic Bobby Thompson on last weekend’s Comedy Map: “I canna sleep for debt, I’m up to here (indicates nose)…I wish I was a bit taller.”

May 9. Catherine Tate was robbed of a Comedy Award by ITV. What a f***ing liberty.

May 4. OVER on Corrie, Maria’s baby was still-born – like most of the plots under soap boss Steve Frost. This guy has presided over the lamest period in Street history for a decade. Frost lost some of the show’s best writers, brought in deadbeat characters (Violet’s sister, Jack’s grandson, most of the Mortons…) and has generally opted for far-fetched melodrama over story-lines we might actually care about. Michelle’s two sons, Violet’s gaybee, David’s 19th rampage…what a load of old tripe it’s been. As a parting shot, he’s given us the most cynical twist of all. A dead child. Nothing is sadder than losing a baby, nothing is more certain to bring a couple together. So it’s hard to believe Maria wouldn’t have told Liam what she was going through. Or that she’d rather have Soppy Sean’s boyfriend with her than her own husband. (I need an epidural just to watch Sean). You feel for any couple who have suffered this devastating loss for real who were now forced to relive it as a plot device.

Mercifully Frost’s replacement Kim Crowther has a lot to build on – Corrie still has warmth, wit and terrific young characters along with the golden oldies. It’s hard not to love Becky, the woman who puts the rolls in Roy’s Rolls. Or hate Carla. Selfish, callous and acid-tongued, she’s shot straight into the Sunday Times Bitch List, and is clearly going to cheat on Tony (Pop-Eye the Tailored Man). Then there’s Tina: pretty, witty, bolshy…what’s not to like? And Harry the bookie: a dead cert to score with Liz and maybe take on Deirdre for an each-way bet. Don’t axe H, Liz. Get shot of Clare, the interfering mare, instead. And while we’re at it, isn’t it time Steve McDonald moved on from Michelle? She’s drained all the oomph out of him. When Jim came out of nick, Steve was the one who looked like he’d done bird. Bring back Karen to spice up his life. And Danny Baldwin for Carla. Adultery, humour and believability are Corrie’s traditional core strengths. Forget that and it’s only a matter of time before Norris comes out as a sicko Austrian, with a secret daughter in a sex-bunker.

* A US man has re-grown his finger. Makes you wonder what Hayley Cropper might be re-growing. Brace yourself, Roy. It’d beat the hell out of Jean Slater’s sausage surprise…

* GAIL’s gay Dad Ted is a ringer for Malcolm Muggeridge. (Malcolm Buggeridge?) He seems an amiable cove but after Audrey’s potted guide to family history will he ever return? Psycho sons, killer boyfriends, under-age pregnancies…the Platts make Caligua seem tame.

* PEOPLE too shy to go to their GP about their intimate problems can now show the world everything they’ve got on C4’s Embarrassing Bodies. Yeah that makes sense. Still, if a poor Mum-of-ten who wants to tighten up down below, what else can she do? It’s hard to raise the money for surgery. Imagine the storm if she went down Harley Street waving her bucket…

* TSK. I’ve sat through five episodes of Embarrassing Bodies and still no sign of Jo Brand…(Jo Brand Memorial Gag #917)

* ON EastEnders Sean’s was auditioning for Grand Theft Auto V. Or maybe he was just defending his title as the world’s most pointless psychopath. Either way, for no apparent reason, he was planning to murder Gus. He’d tied him to a chair and left a fake suicide note (Nice one, Einstein, how would he tie himself up and then top himself?) Luckily Stacey arrived and talked Gus out of calling the Old Bill cos “We’re mates”…Pure Bafta-nominated realism.

* SEAN disguised baking powder as cocaine. See, you can have your coke and eat it too.

* ODE to Gus: So farewell then to Walford’s bard/No-one will miss you ’cept Wellard/Your leaving story was a farce/You can stick your poetry up…on the wall of Keisha’s van.

* WHY no news on Minty’s cowboy honeymoon? We want to know if Heather got the bit between her teeth…

HOT on TV: Derren Brown – every trick is a treat…Peep Show – wickedly funny…Gene Simmons (Shrink Rap)…Mad Men…Heroes…and Benidorm – gloriously grotesque.

ROT on TV: Embarrassing Bodies – a televised squirmathon…Headcases – Have I Got Snooze For You…Tanya Byron - is she normal? No, next question…The Baron…and The Invisibles – New Tricks with crooks, without the charm or wit to make it worth watching; New Tripe.

* CHRIS Tarrant gives me nothing but abuse on It’s Not What You Know (Challenge), claiming that I’m “the only man who looks the same upside down” and that I “live on pie and mash.” Shocking. In fact, my rich and varied diet also includes stewed eels. My ambition is to go on Come Dine With Me and say “This is my signature dish: eggs, bacon and a fried slice.”

* Random irritations: rubbish challenges on Beat The Star. Babecast’s dubious definition of babes. Jenny Celerier (The Apprentice). Jacques Peretti - non-investigative journalism. Loose Women prattling nonsense, as pointless as a broken pencil. (For Loose Men, see Peep Show).

* C4 Wednesday: Desperate Housewives squeezed between two Embarrassing Bodies. Sounds like a film I saw on TVX: The Fantasy Channel.

* JULIE Goodyear was on Mr & Mrs. So shouldn’t it have been Mrs & Mrs with the occasional Mr thrown in for light relief?

* THE 3:10 to Yuma was on Sky Movies last night. Not to be confused with The Kids Are Alright. That was the 5.30 to crapville.

* JEZ (Peep Show) on his STD: “Chlamydia is symptom-less? Then what’s the biggie? I mean, no-one cares if the Invisible Man comes to dinner.”

* DOCTOR Who beat all of those Sontarans: Grumpy, Dopey, Sneezey…Where were they from? Planet Disney? The short, angry aliens were out to turn earthlings into clones. I reckon they’ve left ‘sleepers’ here: Lulu, Jeremy Kyle, Worrall-Thompson, Peggy Mitchell…

* SMALL joys of TV: Brad Garrett (Everybody Loves Raymond). Kevin getting his cards (Apprentice). Betty getting her gun (Mad Men).

* JOHN Barrowman claims to be part-Scots, part-American. Looking at his hair, I can’t help feeling he has a touch of “Irish” about him too…

* DOON Mackichan, Fred MacAulay, Avid Merrion…BBC2 need to buy a better comedy map. This one has too many B-roads, dead-ends and cul-de-sacs.

April 27. Crazy baldhead Harry Hill richly deserved his double Bafta win. Shame his sense of humour evaporated when it came to the acceptance speeches. “Baffy-waffy”? What was all that about? It made your toes curl like a cartoon Chinaman’s slippers. Any less funny and he’d have ended up in the montage of the dead. Bafta got a few things right this year, for a change. Host Graham Norton was sharp and polished, dubbing the night “like the Oscars with less surgery.” And Gavin & Stacey was rightly recognised as a national treasure. Why is this sitcom a smash with viewers? Because it’s warm, funny and recognisable – the very opposite of most smart-arse TV comedy which sets out to be as nasty, bitter or plain repulsive. It makes us laugh - which can’t be said of this year’s winners. Not everyone can be witty off the cuff, but would it hurt the lazy bums in the ‘comedy’ categories to write a few lines up-front just in case? The funniest thing on the night was the old guy in The Street’s production team. He had Compo’s dress sense and Shane MacGowan’s teeth. The Baftas are largely dull. Too worthy, too up themselves, too keen to reward little-watched dramas that suit their right-on world views. (Britz? Shitz!) The ‘continuing drama’ award is a joke and should be scrapped until our soaps get back to scratch. It’s hard to see why ITV’s FI team got a gong unless it was for irritating viewers by cutting to interviews mid-race. And it says a lot about the paucity of Britain’s comedy output that the I.T. Crowd was considered one of the year’s best four sitcoms. What was fifth? Malcolm and Barbara? Ross Kemp On Gangs? I’m with the judges on The Street, Eileen Atkins, Fonejacker and Heroes (although series two got off to a slow start.) But disappointed for The Thick Of It and amazed that Phil Glenister, Boston Legal and Studio 60 weren’t even in the running. Simon Amstell’s comic brilliance will surely be rewarded next year. Just a thought: how about commissioning Harry Hill to host a Reverse Baftas, honouring the worst of 2008 telly? He’d have to include his own baffling Freaky Eaters obsession, of course.

* DID you see Heather in her wedding dress on EastEnders? She looked like an Alp. How old are the people who write this garbage? Twelve? Are we really supposed to believe Minty (former slum landlord) wouldn’t realise he’d have to sleep with his morbidly obese bride until their wedding day? The whole storyline is like some fat girl’s fantasy. In the real East End, there would be a wag at the bar coming out with cutting one-liners: “Watch out Minty, when she drops her drawers her arse will still be in them…climb on top and you’ll burn your arse on the light-bulb, mate…she tried computer dating once and it matched her with Romford.…” Poor Heather. You’d have trouble getting in a lift with her, let alone a bed. Let’s hope it’s over soon and she goes back to the real love of her life. Colonel Sanders.

* IF Heather falls pregnant how will they tell? She’s already eating for two. And I think the other one is Jo Brand...

* IN Walford only blokes are targets for jokes. Shirley zinged the chubby George Michael look-alike: “What did you do with the other fella on the website? Eat him?”

* MEMO to Minty: cowboys do it bareback.

* PIERS called naff acts “end of the pier” on Britain’s Got Talent. Wrong. You had to be good to work the piers. But how would he know? What he knows about variety could be written on Ronnie Corbett’s eye-lid. The only piers we want to see the end of is Morgan. This show has too much emotional blackmail -there are so many sob stories they ought to call it Tears In Their Eyes. Too much tripe too. Run-away ferrets, escapologists who can’t escape, 20-stone housewives dancing to Britney Spears…what an insult to the truly gifted. And how irritating that kid comics get screen time when Mick Miller can’t.

* I FELT for the political impressionist who got slung off last weekend. Granted he couldn’t do impressions, but he got more laughs than ten series of Bremner, Bird & Fortune.

HOT on TV: Joe Calzaghe…James Wood (Shark)…Ed Byrne…Pushing Daisies…Ken Hames (Ex-Forces & Homeless)…Jamelia…Wendy Richard (Benidorm)…and Connor (Strictly Baby Fight Club) – get in there, son.

ROT on TV: Sean Slater – more over the top than Donald Trump’s comb-over…Malcolm McLaren - The Baron shite… Jacques Piretti - as bland as Brian Paddick… Headcases – the CGI stands for Crap Gags Insult the memory of Spitting Image…and My Family – as believable as Alan Yentob’s expenses.

* RANDOM irritations: All-Star Mr & Mrs – they’re not stars, and they’re not married. Cheating ham Bernard Hopkins. ITV’s belief that nail-banging and cow-milking are prime time entertainment (Beat The Star). Maybe in Kazakhstan… Jamelia on the lotto, thanking us for having her when I haven’t. And the lack of St George’s Day shows – TV execs out of step with the people, as usual.

* GRAHAM Norton on the US Democrats: “Hillary’s not going down without a fight. Not my words. Bill Clinton’s.”

* ANDREW Lloyd-Webber is said to have had the bags under his eyes removed. To improve his looks, shouldn’t he have kept the bags and lost the boat-race?

* CORRIE sandwich-maker Becky looks hotter by the week. Must be the way she spreads ’em.

* GORDON Brown was on American Idol last week. He got turned down for Are You Smarter Than A Ten Year Old.

* HIS next stop? Top Gear…teaching Clarkson a few things about high-pressure u-turns.

* SHE’S All That on C4. Not to be confused with Roxy Mitchell. She’s not all that.

* HOT not on TV: Bob Davro live on stage. Superb. A Gatlin gun of gags. So why don’t they give him more personality on EastEnders?

* I’M all for cloning Martha Jones. But aren’t the potato-headed Sontarans rubbish on Dr Who? Who are they based on, Phil Mitchell? With Stacey Slater’s down-turned gob thrown in? Warriors my arse. They’d run from the Adipose.

April 26. A Mrs. Trellis of North Wales alerts me to the sad news that Humphrey Littleton has died at 86. The jazz trumpeter and host of radio comedy 'I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue' ("the antidote to panel games") had an unique comedy brain and will be sorely missed. If there's any justice Humph will be laid to rest at Mornington Crescent and his score-keeper Samantha will take charge of the ceremony. She always enjoys burying a stiff.

April 25. I'm sorry Matt O’Connor has quit as a Mayoral candidate. Who should we back now? My advice? Go as anti-establishment or eccentric as you like with your first preference vote to register a protest (Winston McKenzie, Gerard Batten...) and then hold your nose and give Boris your second vote – it’s the only way to get rid of that revolting weasel Livingstone.

April 21. St George’s Day alert. This Wednesday, April 23rd, I’m putting on another rock, ska and comedy knees-up at the Circus Tavern in Purfleet, Essex. The bill includes Bradley Walsh, Bobby Davro, the Jam DRC, Krakatoa, Censored, the Petty Hoodlums, Ska stars Nick Welsh and Rhoda Dakar, East End comedy legend Mickey Pugh, the Gonads and more. It's £15 a ticket. All profits to the Benny Hill statue fund.

April 20. Big Mo bullied Steven Beale in to bed with Stacey on EastEnders. "Leave it much longer and she'll think you're a bit of a Doris Day," Mo advised sensitively. But when it came to the crunch, Steven couldn't get a John Bardon. His Queen Vic failed to rise to the occasion. Turns out he's got the Angie Watts for Christian instead. The storyline was a predictable fiasco as Steven's quest for his first Donald Duck became public knowledge. Christian caught him starkers and observed: "Quite some light you've been hiding under your bushel." (I'm touched but not in the way Steven wants to be). He even got intimate advice from his Dad, Ian, who told him sex is like riding a bike. And he should know, he married one. Ian told him to avoid "over-excitement" by mentally reciting the entire England team (wouldn't have worked with the goalie we had in the 1990s.) Finally, the supposedly cool Christian eavesdropped on Steven and Stacey's private conversation and crassly denounced him as "still a virgin" in a crowded club. Before you knew it Steven was outside snogging his step-uncle....

So is this Barry and Colin all over again? Or Tiff's bisexual brother recycled? The Enders writers do love plagarizing their own past. (And film scenes - that dog-eating stuff came straight from an old Vincent Price movie). Hold up, though. Back in the 1980s, gay storylines were bold and challenging. But society has changed. Homosexuality is no longer an issue. Apart from a few fanatics, no-one cares how consenting adults entertain each other in private. But we do care about soap stories making sense and characters remaining constant. We also want our soaps to have a sense of morality - something EastEnders has long forgotten. Sean Slater is a spiteful bully who is guilty of attempted murder. He must get his come-uppanace. As should Janine, the murderess, self-centred thief Chelsea, and Tanya who is also guilty of attempted murder. Bianca has been rewritten as a crass, selfish trash-mother who thinks the world owes her a living. There are plenty of women about like her of course but why is there no-one in Albert Square prepared to pull her up about her mouth, sorry, marf, and her attitudes? No-one made her have three kids by three different blokes. As for Steven, he's gone from psychopathic nutter to sensitive artist to over-night gay. Who gets him though the night doesn't matter, but it does matter that we can't believe in him.

* MORE Enders' rhyming slang. Max Branning: needs hanging. Dot Cotton: this soap's rotten. Ronni and Roxy: the women are poxy.

* HARD to believe that even a schmuck like Steven wouldn't know he was gay at his age. Mind you, no-one's told Graham Norton yet. Imagine the shock that'll be for his wife and mistresses.

* Steven is gay. So the Square has had Big Mo, Little Mo and Ho...peless character re-writes.

* DOCTOR Who is terrifically exciting - if you're 12 or under. All that running about and shouting, the cartoon baddies, not too threatening aliens... The squid-faced Oods were back last night, a slave-race who look like the wind changed on them ten seconds in to a spaghetti-eating contest. It's OK, but as Al Murray would say: "It's for kids!" Battlestar Gallatica or the other hand is proper grown-up sci-fi. It has scarier enemies - the Cylons, machines who can adopt human form. It has sexier stars (Tricia Helfer v. Catherine Tate? No contest!) And tough, adult choices. Regular characters die and there are no quick solutions. This is a war for humanity's survival that can't be solved with a lazy wave of a sonic screwdriver (the Doc's magic wand). Now Starbuck (Katee Sackhoff) is back and no-one knows if she's human or not. It'll take 19 more must-see episodes to clear up.

* DID you see that giant brain on Doctor Who? Imagine that with a hang-over. The pain, the throbbing...it'd be like every morning for Amy Winehouse.

* HOW big a head would you need to house a brain that massive? We're talking Brian Conley size. In fact, maybe that's where Brian left his brain when he signed up for Dirty Rotten Cheaters...

* DAVID Platt ended the week sobbing in a cell on Corrie. A terrible miscarriage of justice. The cell wasn't padded, it isn't on death row and he'll be out in a couple of months. David is banged up with Graham, a one-man karaoke machine, so at least he'll know pain. Maybe the voices in his head will join in for a sing-song...

* THE Final 24 invited us to feel sorry for Anna Nicole Smith. Sorry, don't care, won't care. Smith's demise was entirely self-inflicted. Anna was addicted to prescriptions drugs, cameras and marrying near-dead old codgers for their fortunes. Her autobiography should have been called Where There's A Will, There's Me. It says a lot about our celebrity-skewered culture that such an attention seeking airhead is deemed worthy of TV coverage when nurses, scientists and charity workers are not.

* AMERICAN Idol has launched a charity, Idol Gives Back, to help those in need. X-Factor should do the same for the poor, destitute and forgotten: Chico, Steve Brookstein, Michelle McManus...

* RANDOM irritations: lazy Apprentice spin-offs. Anything 'From Hell'. Steve Cram's life-draining marathon commentary. And the unwelcome mental image of Heather Trott doing swimsuit shots. Please stop. Even Gok Wan wouldn't want to see that naked. Norm’s Workshop annoys me too – gasp as Norm shows you how to make a £2.99 photo-frame, and all you need is £30grand worth of tools...

HOT on TV: Tricia Helfer (Battlestar) - Robo-Trollop...Anna Friel (Pushing Daisies) - bloomin' great...The Sarah Connor finale...Jack Dee (HIGNFY)...Trevor Eve (Waking The Dead)...and classic Who footage (Amazing Journeys).

ROT on TV: Steven Beale - virgin on the ridiculous...Mel Sykes (Paul O'Grady Show) - broadcast chloroform...Teenage Kicks...Katie & Peter - roll on the final chapter...and Playboy TV's Naked News - not naked enough, say no to nudes censorship.

SMALL joys of TV: Michael Kitchen's grimace (Foyle's War). Jaime Pressley (My Name Is Earl). Marlee Matlin on Dancing With The Stars. She can't hear the music, but she dances like a dream. Marlee has four kids. So someone's been cocking a deaf'un...

* UK comedy is officially middle class now. A shed-load of BBC-approved comics have just played a posh comedy festival at an Alpine ski resort. Zut alors. Us poor plebs can merely tug our forelocks as our licence fee pounds line the pockets of our betters and our own favourite performers are sneered at and ignored.

* ANYONE ever see Gok Wan and Kate Silverton in the same room?

* How long before C4 commissions a show like Relocation, Relocation, Relocation to reflect the current economic climate? They could call it Repossession, Repossession, Repossession.

* WHEN you read this I will be in Vegas and Calzaghe will (hopefully) still be undefeated. This city is the showbiz capital of the world. Great turns - impressionists, vents, comedians and magicians - command respect and mega pay-cheques, while our own equivalents languish in semi-obscurity. Joe Longthorne plays the North Pier, Blackpool, Danny Gans is on a million bucks a week. Joe Pasquale hosts an obscure bingo show, Carrot Top is feted. Roger de Courcey does corporates, while Ronn Lucas still makes headlines...it makes you want to spit. To please a few joyless puritans, Gordon Brown, our unelected sub-prime Minister, prevented Blackpool from becoming a UK Vegas. But there is no reason why British TV should deny these performers air-time. Bring on these great variety favourites. If they get less viewers than The Wall, I'll eat Alexa Chung, with a side order of Nookie Bear.

* SADLY I missed Gordon on America's Got Talent. What did he do? His famous 'prudence' comedy routine, a quick display of nail-biting or pension fleecing, ir just a burst of his favourite song, I Belong To Britain (Good Old Britain Toon)?

April 13. PIERS Morgan reckons a non-human might win Britain’s Got Talent. I’m not convinced he meant the dog act, either. Did you see that old dear with the bed of nails? She was scarier than anything on Doctor Who… Of course the show’s big winner is always Simon Cowell, a man busier than a glazier on Coronation Street and harder to depose than an African dictator. Cowell is already rich enough to marry and divorce Heather Mills and Ingrid Tarrant together, just for a laugh. Last night he unearthed two more potential earners: 1) Scala, a sexy electric string quartet featuring three babes and their mate; four women who made fiddling exciting (and for many weak-willed men, necessary). I can’t tell you their names but I believe Nick Clegg calls them 31, 32, 33 and “34 if I’ve had a few”. These girls have got a damn sight more potential than a dancing collie novelty act. 2) Andrew Johnston, 13, from Carlisle. He’s been bullied (teased probably) for seven years because he sings classically. When the chubby boy soprano burst in to (who ate all the) Pie Jesu, pound note signs were spinning in Simon’s eyes. The crowd rose in appreciation, as did the cassocks of several priests watching at home. If Cowell can get this kid recording before his voices break, he’ll be worth another mill to him.

Part Op Knocks, part X-Factor, BGT serves up a polished, cynical mix of amateur talent and hardcore delusion, topped up with schmaltz and Ant & Dec charm. It brings you the nuts other talent shows get shot of off camera. But still delivers scenes that amaze. Like the woman bent double with her legs over her head trying to impress two blokes who wasn’t Amanda Holden. Club entertainer Craig Harper’s one-man version of Boyzone was another joy. But here are my beefs. The show has too many amateurs, not enough pros and semi-pros. They won’t give comedians a chance. Finally, and this is ITV’s problem: Cowell finds all these promising turns but there’s nowhere to build them. People like talent shows, why wouldn’t they like a weekly variety show featuring all the same kind of acts done properly by professionals?

* WHAT? No Chinese men-in-blue flame-juggling act?

* THE snake puppet didn’t impress the judges. There’s something chilling about those fixed staring eyes, scaly complexion and swollen features. But enough about Piers…

* WHAT’S going on with Amanda Holden’s boat race? She must get through Botox the way Sean Slater goes through slappers.

* FRANKIE Howerd was a comic genius but you wouldn’t have known that from Rather You Than Me. Talk about grim. There were Ingmar Bergman fans calling up begging the Beeb to tone down the bleakness. David Walliams played Francis as a camp caricature – he sounded like Lou from Little Britain auditioning for DeadRingers. This jarred with Peter Harness’s downer of a script which was obsessed, perhaps inevitably, with Howerd’s tortured sexuality. Yet Frankie’s gayness wasn’t what made him special, any more than his sadness was. His skill as performer set him apart. Frankie Howerd was funny, fragile, and brilliantly original. He was a true clown, who dared to be vulnerable on stage, and to side with us, the audience, against “them upstairs.” The Frankie I knew was a joy to be around. This wretched show missed him by a mile.

* ROY Cropper caught Becky and her builder partying to his album of steam engine sounds on Corrie. Understandably he went loco. Roy keeps that album for his own special times with Hayley, the train-sexual. He likes to stoke up the old boiler. Well, it’s not a crime, is it? They play a game, see. He’s the engine-driver, and she has the tender behind. No, stop it. Becky only goes like a train. And there’s no guarantee that fella of hers will pull out on time….

HOT on TV: Pushing Daisies – flower power… Battlestar Galactica – grown-up sci-fi…Paterson Joseph (The Fixer)…Chuck…and Kevin (The Apprentice) - move over David Brent, there’s a new git in town.

ROT on TV: BBC4’s Frankie Howerd – titter we did not…We Are Klang – They Are Krap…The Wall (BBC3) – bring on the wrecking ball…My Family – old jokes remembered…and the London Mayoral debate (Newsnight) – truly underwhelming; were they auditioning for Clowns?

* SMALL joys of The Apprentice: Ian’s management-babble. His “light-bulb moment” was definitely low wattage. And Lindi suggesting the girls offer “intimate, personalised service” with curry and beer. It works for me, love.

* BLUES song for Gus on EastEnders: “Woke up this morning, sausage poem in my hand/Then I saw my Keisha in bed with another man/It was Sean, and he’d been giving her joy/Well how could I compete, with his mighty saveloy?”

* CLOWN Tommy Tickle (Clowns) was a potty-mouthed, beer-swilling borderline psycho. I kept hoping he’d ask film-maker Daisy Asquith to show him her big top and stick her pie in his face.

* ITV’s Headcases is nowhere near savage enough. Real satire is powered by rage. They ought to tear our rulers apart. These idiots even fixed Gordon Brown’s trick eye.

* RANDOM irritations: Dr Who’s water pistol – where did that come from? Shouty Catherine Tate and her ten-Adipose arse. Repeats of Location, Location, Location from 2000. Why? What’s the point? You couldn't buy a dog kennel for those prices nowadays. (But give it a year…)

* STONE creatures on Dr Who last night. Not to be confused with the writers of The Wall. They’re obviously stoned creatures.

* A BABY born in India with two faces…has Ben Elton been abroad lately?

* DON’T axe beloved Corrie stars, ITV. Sack the nitwit who dreamt up Michelle’s endless two-sons saga…

April 10. Stuart Adamson (guitarist with the Skids and Big Country) would have been 50 today. He was an inspired song-writer. I was honoured to have known him. Maybe one year TV will see fit to remember him.

April 6. RICKKKAYYY! Bianca! Evil Janine…There were so many ex-EastEnders in Albert Square this week it felt like an episode of The Bill. BBC1’s glum-fest turned in to I Love The 90s on Tuesday. And wasn’t it ter-rif-ic? All it needed was for someone to torch the car-lot and the retro joy would have been complete. The Butcher brood were back for their Dad’s funeral. It was his second, but this time Frank is as brown-bread as the great Mike Reid who played him. Francis Aloysius Butcher was a giant character; larger than life, with a voice like a cat-burglar sliding on gravel. Even dead he stole the show. Yes Frank was a two-timing loser – “wotten thwough to the core,” said Peggy. But Reid made him loveable and believable. A proper Cockney. In contrast Pat and Peggy at the gay wedding felt as real as a Hilary Clinton war story. Those guys were the least convincing couple since David Gest married Liza Minnelli. Ricky and new squeeze Melinda seem just as unlikely. Even Fick Rick wouldn’t tolerate this dippy, drippy Daddy’s girl.

Pre-funeral, we got Albert Square’s greatest hits with Pat and Peggy slapping each other for the umpteenth time, and Peggy trotting out her catchphrase “Get ahta my pub!” It took Bianca Jackson, the human foghorn, to drag us out of nostalgia mode and reignite our interest in the present. She started by getting evicted, and ended the week getting nicked for punching a cop. Happy days. The Jackson family always were a DNA disaster area, and Bianca is no exception. She turned up with four kids by three different blokes, and if I’m not mistaken the same jacket she left in nine years ago. She is destined to be a Butcher of course (play join the dots with her freckles and they actually spell “Rickayyy!”) If only the soap put the effort they expended on the Bianca trailers into the actual episodes. And if only they’d realise how Mike Reid made Frank such a memorable character. 1) He was a genuine Londoner. 2) Comedy was in his blood - even Frank’s wives were Little and Large. 3) He had an ear for Cockney patter. They should replace him with another real East London comic like Barbara Windsor’s favourite funnyman, Mickey Pugh. Don’t expect him to shag Fat Pat though…

* WE heard about Frank’s death on Monday, on Tuesday they buried him. Never mind the Apprentice, Alan Sugar should hire the bloke who organised that funeral...

* GIFTS Frank should have left his kids: Ricky - a brain, Janine - some underwear. Diane – a personality…

* DIANE was talking about her other half. “What’s his name?” asked Janine. “Suzanne,” came the reply. Didn’t Johnny Cash write a song about him?

* THE boys took the girls to the cleaners in their Apprentice laundry task, thanks to their hard-faced lantern-jawed leader –Jenny Celerier. Jenny (Red O’Dear) was so bossy and over-bearing she could have been auditioning for a role in a Nazi-style Formula 1 orgy. Not saying she’s a back-stabber but you’d want Harriett Harman’s vest on if you’d crossed her. Team Jenny guessed at prices, offering to clean a hotel’s linen for £5,000 – 25 times the going rate. Squabbles and tears ensued as the girls lost clothes and shamelessly touted for tips. Facing the music, Jenny told Loopy Lucinda “I felt like I’ve had to breast-feed you.” (Not a pleasant image. If breast-feeding is to be done here, let it involve Sara or Lindi.) Sugar should have Binned the Chin, but he knows deluded villains are good box office and fired Shazia instead. Jenny can’t possibly win, but she has a bright future in baggage control at T5. Early favourites for the big job: Simon and Lee.

* SHAME Catharine Tate didn’t come in character on Dr Who. Imagine her foul-mouthed Nan on the Tardis: “Call yerself an effin’ doctor? ’Ave a look at my veins!” It’d be Doctor Who-the-f***-are-you?

HOT on TV: Frank Butcher, RIP (EastEnders)…Bianca (ditto)…Trevor Eve as Hughie Green…Gavin & Stacey – a constant joy…and The Sopranos last-but-one episode – hotter than Valandros after the Corrie fire.

ROT on TV: the Adipose – worst-ever Dr Who aliens; Jenny Celerier was scarier…Melinda (EastEnders) – irritating enough for the Apprentice …and the rubbish Muscle Man on Hughie Green Most Sincerely – Hughie had more muscles in his pants.

* HUGHIE Green was sex-obsessed love-rat who made Nick Clegg-over look like an amateur. No wonder he needed a clap-o-meter.

* TREVOR Eve was mesmerising as Hughie, even if he did look more like Bob Monkhouse. But Mark Benton played Jess Yates in the worst bald wig ever seen on TV. He looked like Zoot, the Muppets sax player, on Miss Piggy’s diet.

* POOR Mark Benton. Ever since the Thomas Beatie story broke, people keep asking him if he’s pregnant too.

* SMALL joys of TV: Eric Sykes, hilarious on This Morning. Knight him! Maureen Lipman (He Kills Coppers), she’s turning into Dot Cotton. Bianca’s Jackson Five trailer. classic Marty Feldman clips – keep an eye out for the repeats. Marty would have done. And Alan Sugar referring to his “Kelvin Kline” underwear. He keeps them in a drawer with his Frank Perry shirts.

* RANDOM irritations: C4 news referring to Gordon Brown’s missus Sarah as “the first lady”. Has anyone told the Queen? Matthew Wright – the human rainforest, he gets wetter every day. America’s Psychic Challenge - ‘mediums’ had to find a living man in a deserted hospital. That’s not a psychic challenge – it’s hide and seek.

* MYSTERIES: On EastEnders, how did Ricky find his step-mum? Did he have Pat-Nav? Why didn’t Peggy’s funeral flowers spell ‘Fwank’? Why was Hughie Green part of BBC4’s Curse of Comedy series – he wasn’t a comedian. And, more seriously, Super-Rich showed how greedy investment bankers have caused the worst financial crisis for decades leaving the rest of us to carry the can. Why aren’t they in jail?

* SEPARATED at birth: Avram Grant on the bench at Fenerbahce and Baron Greenback (Danger Mouse)

* LEANNE’S restaurant burnt down on Corrie. On the plus side, for the first time ever the steaks were well-done. Paul brings new meaning to carrying a torch for someone.

* For goofs and contests see the Daily Star Sunday today.

March 30. A SHOCKING lack of initiative on The Apprentice. There were wet fish everywhere, yet none of the contenders thought to pick one up and slap Raef Bjayou round his smug, self-satisfied face with it. What a buffoon. What a floppy-haired fop. “I am a natural-born salesman,” Raef pompously declared. “The spoken word is my tool.” Yeah, and the biggest tool… was Raef of course. Later he announced “I get on with prince or pauper.” Well Gawd bless yer, guv’nor. Us paupers can but kneel before you and give thanks for every golden moment of your indulgence. Ponce. He had more plums in his mouth than Ashley Dupre. Yet incredibly Raef was out-toffed by an even bigger pilchard. Step forward Nicholas de Lacy-Brown, qualified barrister and self-regarding nitwit who blew his own trumpet like Miles Davis on pay-per-note. Nick reeled off his academic achievements, revealing that his only failure in life so far was getting a B in GCSE French. The words pride and fall sprang to mind, and not wrongly.

Divided along sex lines, the teams had to flog fresh fish in London’s Chapel Market. Natural-born salesman Raef was asked to identify the fish, and infallible Nick had to price them. The resulting disaster saw £18 lobsters being sold for £4.90 a-piece, and monkfish tails marked up as cheap turbot. Raef had also seen mackerel and emperor bream where there were none. The old trout (Margaret) was not impressed. So what to do with the left-over fish? The boys gave the task to pint-sized Michael Sophocles, a man who boasted that he was ruthless but turned out to put the prat in sprat. Instead of taking the remaining stock to a restaurant like the girls had done, he took it to a solicitors’ office where he displayed the worst negotiating skills since Maastricht. Under orders to get £130, Michael was beaten down to £50. Pathetic. Sugar should have fired the lot of them and hired the solicitor. Inevitably the boys lost. Olympian buck passing ensued. For a barrister, Nick didn’t put up much of a fight. Apparently unaware that his potential employer was the self-made former boss of Spurs, Nick moaned that the team had split between ‘educated’ and gritty sales people; adding “I find it very difficult to have conversation about football.” Exit me learned friend, as gutted as his mis-priced fish. Nicholas was deluded, patronising and out of touch. A Government post surely awaits him.

* IF you were being buried alive by your wife, would you call a) 999 or b) your dippy nine-year-old daughter? Max on EastEnders chose b. D’oh! He also uniquely has a mobile that doesn’t allow emergency calls in bad reception areas, like, for example, a shallow grave. Max, a vengeful bloke, could have had Tanya charged with attempted murder. More likely, he could have hit on her for make-up sex. Instead he meekly accepted responsibility and walked away. Real life, indeed.

* MAX was in a coffin from Good Friday to Easter Monday but he still had more fun than anyone stuck at home watching BBC1….

* MAX on his back, feeling trapped and dirty…isn’t that how Fat Pat started?

* FAT Pat may emigrate. Hurrah! Yeah, she can’t stand the competition from even-fatter Heather.

* HE Kills Coppers is a superb ITV drama loosely based on the real story of cop-killer Harry Roberts. Frank Taylor is a young cocksure detective; Tony Meehan, an ace newshound tormented by closeted desires; and Billy Porter – the Harry character, is a ruthless petty hood played with cold menace by Mel Raido. It’s set in 1966, another world. For starters, the England football team played to win. From Soho’s Maltese-run brasses to the Flying Squad’s open corruption, London then was a place of dark temptation. When Frank’s love rival Jon and two other plod pull Billy up over an out-of-date tax disc, he guns them down. Imagine the carnage if they’d caught him speeding.

* LES Battersby star Bruce Jones went on Celebrity Wife Swap with Sinitta. She banned him from smoking, drinking and watching TV, spied on him in pubs and nagged him half to death. Didn’t anyone tell her they weren’t really married?

* THE couples don’t sleep together, but on balance not having sex with Sinitta is a big step up from not having sex with Janice Battersby or Cilla Brown.

* SINITTA: from So Macho to So Panto (or indeed She’s Whacko…)

HOT on TV: He Kills Coppers – hotter than Carla Sarkozy…Gene Hunt v Lord Scarman…The Kill Point (Bravo)…The Fixer…Jimmy Smits (Cane, ITV3) …Desperate Housewives …Gossip Girl (ITV2) – hot gossip, it’s the new O.C.

ROT on TV: Teenage Kicks – not hard to beat… Alex Drake – her appeal is more hidden than an MP’s expenses…Corrie – too dull for too long, chuck…ludicrous TV ‘psychic’ shows – give up the ghost…and the England football team – proof Alan Sugar didn’t have a monopoly of wet fish on Wednesday night.

* RANDOM irritations: 60 Minute Make-over – it takes me that long to find a screwdriver. Ken Stott as Hancock, more miscast than Sam Dingle’s fishing line. Ashes To Ashes ending – it made no sense and Drake didn’t die.

* WHY the fuss over mixing human genes with animal ones? The Dingles have been doing it for years.

* THIS year John Barrowman has been on Hotel Babylon, the Weakest Link, Eurovision - You Decide, Jon Ross, Al Murray and Torchwood. Now he’s in I’d Do Anything. It’s not just a show. It’s also his career plan.

* WHAT a miserable Bank Holiday. It was so cold, on Shameless Frank Gallagher had to go indoors to urinate. That thing on Bruce Forsyth’s head migrated south. And on EastEnders, for warmth Max and Tanya were sharing a coffin. Experts agree it’s the coldest global warming since records began.

* PEOPLE who ITV’s The Fixer should fix next: Sean Slater - the poor man’s Grant Mitchell. The Bionic Woman – for gawd’s sake lighten up, luv. Mitchell & Webb – fab in Peep Show, feeble in their own show.

* SIR Alan is said to be worth £800million. Heather Mills wants a recount.

* A SEA-Life Centre opens at Chessington and a week later Sugar is doling out £1200 worth of fish. Coincidence?

* LAST week’s Mighty Boosh evening was an unparalleled joy. But Lance Dior reminded me of someone. From the minute he walked into Nabootique, he had the “light, sunny, simpleton feel". If Lance wasn’t based on UFO legend Pete Way, I’ll eat a year’s worth of Rashida's underwear (in-joke, sorry).

* For gifts and goofs see the Daily Star Sunday today.

March 23. ONE EastEnders character suffered a fate worse than death this week. Millions of horrified viewers screamed “Don’t do it” at the screen and watched with a mounting sense of disbelief as the nightmare unfolded. Yes, Minty really did snog Heather Trott. Why? Why would he? Why would anybody? She’s not exactly a F.I.L.F. (Fatty I’d Like to F…) She’s not even his type - Minty’s love-life has turned into an episode of Supersize v Superskinny. Heffer has no personality and no brains. Dim? She thinks global credit crunch is a high-carb breakfast. Frankly, you’d rather dig up Nana Moon. Yet odds-on they’ll wed. It’s nuts.

Elsewhere Max the Mekon was buried alive by his missus. Max was wearing black, so at least he was dressed for it. But beauty salon boss Tanya’s transformation from loving mum to would-be killer wasn’t the least bit convincing. She’s never so much as broken a client’s nail before, now it’s Murder She Waxed. Yes Max cheated on her, yes, he’s a control freak, but he hadn’t pushed her anywhere near far enough to make a law-abiding good-natured person decide on homicide as a solution. It rang as true as Heather Mills in the witness box; or, indeed, Tan’s relationship with swivel-eyed head-case Sean Slater. What long-term future would a get-ahead businesswoman see in this scruffy psychopathic lay-about? Specially as Rob Kazinsky’s acting style is somewhere between method and manic depression…

Another crime was committed here, too – theft, to wit the shameless nicking of Coronation Street plots. When Tracy Barlow found out Charlie was over the side, she took him back, faked a relationship, and topped him. Sound familiar? There’s more. Stephen, Stacey and gurning creep Christian will soon be caught up in an unlikely bisexual love triangle – just like Corrie’s Michelle, Sean and Sonny were. Enders nicks from everything these days, from the Simpsons to Some Like It Hot. When caught out, they claim it’s a “tribute”, but in reality they’re completely out of ideas Random recent cobblers includes budgie-napping and gold-digger Clare targeting Walford (why? the West End is a few tube stops away.) No-one in the Vic is Irish, yet they celebrate St Paddy’s Day. Ian Beale hasn’t mentioned the Queen in 33 years, suddenly he’s an ardent Royalist. Lucy hears Sham 69 and next episode teenage Mohicans are wrecking her house to antique punk tunes. It was like 1980s kids running amok to the happening sounds of Bill Haley & The Comets.

* CHERYL Fergison is great as hefty Heather. I understand she’s RSC trained. Not Royal Shakespeare Company – Ready, Steady, Cook.

* NEWS footage from Tibet is depressing and disappointing - these monks can’t fight half as well as they do in the movies. No slo-mo, no running up walls, nothing… Seriously, China’s heavy-handed response recalls the Soviets in Czechoslovakia. Here’s my question: if the Chinese authorities can allow Hong Kong to operate along Capitalist lines, why can’t they let the people of Tibet retain and celebrate their culture?

* IT was St Patrick’s Day on Monday. Out of habit two of the old Emmerdale lesbians got together to practice their Gaelic.

* BRING back Holly Willoughby soon ITV. We’ve seen her low-cut and backless. Let’s see her half-cut and topless.

* BASIL Brush has been attacked for showing a gypsy selling clothes pegs and lucky heather. Quite right. Modern travelers don’t flog heather. They take a deposit to tarmac your drive and never return.

* THE Curse of Steptoe reminded us that Harry H. Corbett (’Arold!) was a frustrated prima donna, while Wilfred Bramble was as jolly and upbeat as a Bear Sterns shareholder. Dubliner Bramble was a closeted gay man full of self-loathing who got done for importuning; a dirty old man indeed. Does it matter? The modern drama, although well-made, wasn’t a patch on the Steptoe & Son pilot that followed it. This was true genius - recognisable characters trapped in a claustrophobic relationship. Superbly written and brilliantly cast, it used emotional blackmail as a springboard to belly-laughs. It went on to gain audiences of 28million. The BBC could learn more from studying that than from worrying about where the actors stuck their dicks after work.

* Factual footnote: Galton & Simpson pitched Comedy Playhouse to Tom Sloan in a Michelin-starred restaurant, not a humble BBC office. Then as now licence fee largesse ran freely.

* PRICELESS moment on Gavin & Stacey as Smithy told Nessa: “Have you looked in the mirror recently? You look like you should be in Amsterdam doing tricks with a Mars bar.” Nessa turned to Stacey and said: “Thanks, Stace, thanks a lot – that was over ten years ago.”

HOT on TV: Moving Wallpaper – best ITV sitcom since The Grimleys … Dirty Sexy Money…new Earl – his name is inmate 2830-1-016…and Gavin & Stacey – even if they are upstaged every week by Nessa & Smithy.

ROT on TV: Sex-Change Soldier – post-traumatic dress disorder…Mark Lawson – wetter than Macca’s barrister… I’d Do Anything – Crap, Obvious Crap…Rock Rivals - the biggest waste of film since the McCartneys’ wedding photos…and Max’s fate (EastEnders) – one shallow grave, one even shallower plot.

* RANDOM irritations: Paxman talks about his pants, Julie Etchingham doesn’t. Licence fee payers lining Lloyd-Webber’s pockets again. And weather forecasters who can’t pronounce the word ‘Arctic’.

* POOR Gail. That fall on Corrie has left her neck wrinkled and her face so disfigured she could curdle milk. Wait a minute…

* HOT not on TV? New musical Jersey Boys. London Tonight’s airhead reporter Lucy Cotter covered the opening with staggering incompetence. She called writer Marshall Brickman “Marcus” twice, and asked Bob Guadio what it was like to have his life story “on screen”, apparently unaware that she was standing outside a theatre. Then she asked Marshall if he thought he’d win an Oscar. For a stage play…D’oh! Isn’t this symptomatic of all that is wrong with TV today? It’s full of people who know little and care less.

* ON Dirty Sexy Money, nice-guy lawyer Nick George has to keep New York’s filthy rich Darling family out of trouble. It’s far-fetched – who ever heard of a nice-guy lawyer? And chock full of potential scandals. Peter Krause (pronounced how-zer) is excellent as Nick. Natalie Zea sparkles as his loaded ex-love Karen – a woman to put the zowsers in your trousers.

(For more Bushell On The Box, see the Daily Star Sunday today)

March 16. SPORT Relief Does The Apprentice. It wasn’t exactly Denman versus Kauto Star. The women were committed, connected and can-do. The men were frankly embarrassing. Nick Hancock, Lembit Opik, Hardeep Singh Kohli…after Monday’s perfect storm, here was an absolute shower. Hancock, the schmuck who sucks the life out of Duel, was as much use as the Heather Trott Guide to Weight Loss. While ‘comedian’ Hardeep made Darling’s budget speech seem laugh-a-minute. What a self-regarding nitwit. Pulled up by Kelvin MacKenzie for his bossiness, Hardeep quit as project manager and stomped off like a sulking brat on Supernanny, leaving ’Opeless Opik in charge. Bad mistake. Big drip Lemsip has no leadership skills – why would he have? He's a Liberal-Democrat. He couldn’t negotiate. He couldn’t get donations. He couldn’t even persuade his Cheeky Girlfriend to get involved. She turned him down like hotel bed-sheets.

The task was to run a shop and raise as much dosh as poss. While the blokes bickered, the women got stuck in. MacKenzie, the obvious leader, played it for laughs. His digs were on-target, but he’d have had more impact if he’d put some effort in. This charity version of the show isn’t really about business skills, though, it’s about which team has the richest mates. And when Louise Redknapp can pick up the phone and persuade a pal to part with £100K for three tickets what chance did Limp-dick’s Losers have? There was only one threat to the girls’ dominance - the slim possibility that Kirstie Allsopp might bludgeon “control freak” Jacqueline Gold to death with one of her own rampant rabbits. The outcome was never really in doubt. If it wasn’t for the boys’ celeb PA, tasty Tamara Ecclestone, the battle would have been as one-sided as Chelsea v Derby. Luckily Tamara managed to persuade a generous contact, an elderly gnome – her Dad, Bernie - to double whatever their team made. Sugar must have wished he could have fired the guest booker.

* LEMBIK calls Gabriella his “Tic Tac”. Could there be an ad in this? Why flick a mint with one flavour when you can lick a bint with two…

* THIS week’s storms caused havoc. On Emmerdale six actors were up-rooted. Over on EastEnders Heather Trott was separated from a bag of chips. In the West Country it was so windy Sid Little was actually blown back in to show business.

Meanwhile Coronation Street issued a severe Gale warning. A severe Gale hit a cold front coming off David Platt, resulting in a sudden downfall – of Gale. Dark clouds are expected.

* YOU come round after a terrible road accident and discover you’re super-human. Your injured parts have been robotically replaced. You can leap between buildings, out-run cars and punch like Tyson. Wouldn’t you be a teensy bit grateful? Maybe even delighted? Not Michelle Ryan. TV’s new Bionic Woman is as miserable as Christmas in a Jersey care home. They’ve spent $50mill repairing her and forgotten to implant a personality. Shot mostly in the dark or the rain, Bionic Woman is grim. The dialogue drags, and Michelle is acted off-screen by Katee Sackhoff - magnificent as rogue bionic babe Sarah. Why re-make a fun sci-fi show as a glum-fest? Seems you can take the Albert Square out of the girl, but…

* BIONIC. Isn’t that Big Mo’s shopping policy – buy or nick? * IMAGINE if it had been Clare Bates instead of Zoe Slater - she’d have requested additional surgery: a bionic fanny and multi-speed rotating nipples.

* HOT on TV: The Kill Point (Bravo) - heist society… Mad Men – best period drama since the Lillettes ad …Katee Sackhoff (Bionic Woman)…and The Fixer – make it a fixture.

ROT on TV: BBC2’s White season – sh*te…Keith Lemon – what a plum…Hardeep (Sport Relief) – neither a sport nor a relief...Bionic Woman – not a stainless steal…Roy Hattersley – the windbag’s windbag…and Delia – duller than Darling.

* RANDOM irritations: News reporters standing in the wind to prove there’s a storm. Do they think we don’t believe them? We’ve all got windows. Christian (EastEnders) – he over-acts, over-laughs, gurns and whinnies like a horse. And Delia - bunging olive oil on oven chips is not proper cooking!

* ON EastEnders, Shirley has found a disturbing lump. It’s Phil and he’s malignant.

* PHIL wants Ben to box. Yeah. I could just see that kid fighting over a purse…

* MINTY snogged Heather in the Vic. Thank God it stopped there. You wouldn’t want the pick of that litter.

* NOW Heather wants lipo. Strewth, she’d fill a skip.

* DID you see Crufts? All that dribbling, stroking and panting…I’m sorry that wasn’t the dog show – it’s Ian Beale in bed with Jane tonight. She’s twice his size. They look like a mismatched wrestling bout.

* COMIC Cuts should book Phill Jupitus, Hardeep and Jo Brand. Then they could change the show’s name ever so slightly.

* BLUE Peter reports that a Sea Life centre opens at Chessington World of Adventures next weekend. The first 100 people arriving with a fishy name get in for free. Why stop there? Bring in celebrity buskers - Laura Haddock, Richard Herring, Fish from Marillion! Imagine the set-list: ‘Sild With A Kiss’, ‘Nobody Knows The Turbots I’ve Seen’, ‘It’s Only Rock N Roe (But I Like It)’...

* NEW York’s Eliot Spitzer was known to call-girls as “Client 9.” Clients 1-8 were Angus Deayton.

* GENE Hunt TV reviews 1) Torchwood: shape-shifters and shirt-lifters. 2) Mitchell & Webb: student ponces. 3) I’d Do Anything - BBC1’s search for a new Oliver and Nancy. Do they really need more Nancys?

* I’D Do Anything – we know Graham, we’ve seen your CV.

For gifts and goofs see the Daily Star Sunday today.

March 15. Terry Pratchett announced on Thursday that he will make a one-off donation of £500,000 to the UK's Alzheimer's Research Trust. He also announced it on Friday and again this morning.

March 13. BBC2’s ‘White’ season was every bit as dumb, patronizing and insulting as you’d expect. Working class people were portrayed as grumpy losers, bigots or work-shy layabouts. White Girl was particularly laughable: daughter of an underclass white family (drug-dealer step-dad, drunken illiterate mum) finds salvation through Islam… While the white adults are demeaning stereotypes, the Muslims are all kind, bright, considerate and family orientated. There was no extremism or intolerance here. No sexism. No Muslim women beaten for dressing how they like or refusing arranged marriages. It was propaganda; white-bad, Islam-good - so simplistic and one-sided it was laughable.

Writer Abi Morgan admits she delayed the drama after the 7 July bombings. That was good of her. Presumably only the risk of offending Muslim sensibilities prevented a triumphant fly-past of pigs at the finish.

Last Orders was a dreary documentary about a working mans club just outside Bradford in terminal decline. It was Phoenix Nights without the laughs. The film was over-long, repetitive and unfocused It had no punch, no point. Largely it was boring; just miserable old gits moaning…no wonder their kids don’t drink with them. “Let’s move into the 21st century,” cried one bold progressive voice. “Let’s have discos.” If he’d suggested karaoke and a quiz night they would probably have lynched him. This is how BBC liberals want the working class to be: relics in cloth caps, with whippets, dribbling in to pints of stout. But what about the social clubs that aren’t moribund? Or working class people who achieve something? Things change and there is a whole thriving subculture – an underground mainstream - out there from football stadiums to Bluewater via self-publishing, rock groups and guerrilla film-making which BBC2 has missed. The point behind this series is that the white working class are ignored by the liberal establishment. It’s a point Michael Collins made brilliantly in The Likes Of Us and which I tried to make, in conjunction with Michael, in The National Alf in 1994. It’s a point that the BBC has missed entirely. The English are the forgotten people, but BBC2’s White season portrays us as a bunch of losers who live in the past and are on their way to extinction. It insults us, the people who pay their wages, and belittles us. Above all, it has nothing to say about the plight of young English men and women, today, whatever their background.

* WHITE Girl exec producer Beeban Kidron, daughter of a leading Marxist intellectual, also made films about Greenham Common wimmin… no prizes for guessing her politics. Or her class.

* Unusual name Beeban Kidron. It's an anagram of Naked Bi Boner, One-drink Babe, Naked Rib Bone, No Kebab Diner and Bran Bone Dike. Some of these may sound insulting, but believe me they're nowhere near as offensive as writing off the white working class as hopeless scum in a season that the BBC claimed would reflect their views.

March 10. Gordon Brown plans to have schoolchildren pledge allegiance to Britain in a citizenship ceremony. This new 'Britishness' oath can also be taken in Polish, Romanian and Urdu.

March 9. ROCK Rivals! Woo-hoo! This show is to quality drama what Simon Cowell is to low-slung trousers. And what Louis Walsh is to insight and charisma. It stinks like the ‘gift’ boxes Sharon Osbourne sends her critics. ITV’s latest (rock) folly is a make-believe version of The X-Factor. Mal Faith is their Cowell, his missus Karina is a kind of Dog-rough Minogue and there’s an Irishman with nothing to say (so they’ve got Louis bang-on). The script is bonkers, the dialogue clunks, the characters are caricatures - just like every other Shed TV show in fact… But at least Footballers’ Wives had some zip to it and some grotesque charm. This is just lazy, obvious and off-target. Crucially it’s nowhere near as dramatic or as funny as the real thing.

None of the contestants come close to the delirious brilliance of a Rhydian or a Darius. Mal is vain, insecure and married. So he’s nothing like our Simon Cowell. Simon’s not married. I jest. Cowell is likeable honest and interesting. He doesn’t set out to insult people, just to tell the truth, however brutal that may be. Actor Sean Gallagher can’t even deliver Mal’s put-downs with conviction. Why would we care about him? Rock Rivals may create a proper star, though - that dummy with the cardboard face looks like a winner to me. Compared to the rest of them, he’s Mr. Personality. The storyline is flimsier than Britney’s underwear. Mal is caught shagging Jinx ‘The Minx’ Jones, who broadcasts their dressing room lust over the sound system. The Faiths fall out. Legless, he files for divorce. His over-night lawyers deliver the papers by breakfast and Karina drives his CGI Ferrari into their pool. (All the madness of the Who with none of the edge, music or point…) Their pop protégées carry the battle on. Karina has Bethany, a self-harming nail varnish guzzling with a nightmare mum. And Mal has cute Luke, whose crazy gay stalker keeps the dummy. Dear, dear… The Yanks churn out wonderful grown-up dramas full of three-dimensional people, but British TV remains obsessed with badly written, poorly-acted LCD trash. Rock Rivals is as subtle as a Rik Waller fart and it got thrashed in the ratings by a repeat of Traffic Cops. Still, ITV must know what they’re doing, mustn’t they? Their big dips in profits and viewing figures are clearly down to something other than piss-poor programming.

* HOW much slap was Michelle Collins wearing? Shrove Tuesday was last month, but for Michelle every day is Pancake Day…

* MORE people watched a repeat of Traffic Cops than watched Rock Rivals – seems viewers preferred a real life car crash to a TV one.

* NEW York, 1960, and for advertising whiz-kid Don Draper “the world is like one big brassiere strap waiting to be snapped.” Mad Men are the sharp-talking ad men of Madison Avenue, the cocky, swaggering masters of their universe. Ex-Sopranos writer Matt Weiner captures the spirit of the times perfectly. Everyone smokes like Dot Cotton – even doctors giving internals. They booze all day and the sexism is as blatant as their Brylcream. Shown her modern typewriter, new girl Peggy is told “It looks complicated but the man who designed it made it simple enough for a woman to use.” Real people coping with rivalries, lust and ambition. Superb.

* MAD Men has smoking, shagging, sexism and casual racism. Or as Rodney Marsh calls it, The Good Old Days.

* FROM the Sopranos to ad men…one a group of cynical double-dealers without a shred of humanity, the other one the Mafia.

HOT on TV: Mad Men – look baccy in wonder…The Kill Point (Bravo) – hits like Gene Hunt with the hump…Al Murray…Curb Your Enthusiasm…and Harry Hill – still delivering laughs regularly and reliably he’s the Fed EX of TV comedy.

ROT on TV: Rock Rivals – Pox Factor… Murder Most Famous – Rubbish They Wrote… Mitchell & Webb –over-rated twaddle …Lewis (Morse without Morse)…and Eurovision Your Decision – as bent as the EU Treaty con-trick (my decision? Switch off!)

* GREG Rusedski gave Kristina “an arabesque over the table” according to Tony Gubba, but I’m not one to gossip. Gubba makes Dancing On Ice with his cries of “There’s the tea-pot!” and wild talk of butterfly lifts “followed by a prawn wrap.” If it turns out he only dreamt that Suzanne Shaw was experiencing “a rotating back stag lift”, he won’t have been alone.

* SMALL joys of TV: Daft names on Rock Rivals (Sundae Gorgeous, Angel Islington). The Temptations on Jonathan Ross’s show – how sweet it was. Gavin & Stacey repeats – roll on the new series. And Penny (The Big Bang Theory) – she’s dishy but dim, a foxy moron. Penny is 36-24-35 – that’s her IQ range, no idea of her vital stats.

* WHY would Shirley on EastEnders buy The Radio Times? When she isn’t drinking or shagging herself senseless she’s working in the pub. When does she ever watch telly?

* RANDOM Irritations: The McVities Yog Fruit digestive ad. The Josh Stone Flake ad. EastEnders sacking the great, under-used Joe Swash. And Rovers theme-pubs – life is gloomy enough without Sean Tully in your local and Who-Cares paternity stories behind the bar. This Alex/Ryan cobblers is lasting longer than a Pamela Anderson marriage.

* THE Kill Point is about a bank job that goes tits up. Rudely interrupted by the cops, Mr Wolf and his fellow thieves, all ex-Marines, end up taking hostages. Wolf sees off a SWAT team and goes public. In a scene echoing Dog Day Afternoon, he reveals that he’s a Iraq vet, injured in action and denied his pension. He demands flak jackets for every serving soldier – and wants the sons of every politician who voted for war to be drafted. The crowd go crazy. Donnie Wahlberg is equally magnetic as a tough negotiator. Powerful, provocative, well-cast and well-acted…why can’t we make shows this good?

* KELVIN MacKenzie has no writing potential, according to Minette Walters (Murder Most Famous.) The first clue came when she read his column.

* MINOR celebs acted out crime scenes. It wasn’t so much Cluedo as Clueless. But in fairness anything that gets Matt Allwright closer to a chalk out-line should be encouraged.

* TINA pregnant by David on Corrie? The writers of Rosemary’s Baby should sue.

March 6. We’ve been stitched-up, had over and taken for mugs. At the 2005 election, all three of our main political parties pledged that British voters would get their chance to vote on the EU Constitution. Today in the Commons the two-faced Labour Party and the slippery Lib-Dims not only broke their promise, they also showed their utter contempt for us and our opinions. The Lisbon Treaty – which is the Constitution in all but name – is a fundamental step in the construction of Europe as a single nation. It will see the creation of a permanent EU president, foreign minister and diplomatic service. It surrenders nearly 50 national vetoes to Brussels and moves us closer to a Euro Army and a Euro Gendarmerie. Yet these bare-faced liars have the nerve to claim it’s no big deal. Their chutzpah is breath-taking. Since day one, the hidden aim of the European project has been the creation of a Euro super-state. It was never meant to be a Common Market, and they know it. Now because politicians know voters would reject these enormous changes, we won’t be given the chance to vote on them. Problem solved. Nearly nine out of ten voters in mini-polls last weekend wanted their chance to have their say. Gordon Brown, the man who said “the best preparation for government is listening to the British people”, chose to cock a deaf’un. If he had any guts he would go to the country and argue the case for the Constitution/Treaty. But bottle is in short supply in Downing Street. For whatever reasons, the self-serving political elite and their lickspittle sheep in the media have set out to sell us, our country and our democracy down the river. Now only the House of Lords can stop this betrayal. Their Lordships know that the Referendum is massively popular cause. They owe the British people the chance to have the say we were promised, and that means forcing the Commons carry out their pledge. It is not an option, it is their duty. If they let us down, then what the hell is the point of them being there?

Being over-taxed and taken for granted sparked the American War of Independence. Is it time for a British or, more likely, an English call to arms? We are plainly no longer a democracy, so we face a simple choice: either we fight back or we fade away.

March 2. WHEN were we funniest, asks UK TV Gold? Any time except now, I’d say. I mean, have you seen Mitchell & Webb? Dear Lord. If you’re Cambridge graduates the Beeb will sling buckets of cash at you, no matter how lousy, half-baked and derivative your ideas are. Most modern comedy ‘heroes’ have feet of clay. Little Britain ran out of ideas quicker than George Bush on Dragon’s Den. The last funny thing Steve Coogan was in was Courtney Love. And don’t get me started on Little Miss Jocelyn. The real difference between now and past decades is that these days, with the notable exception of Harry Hill’s TV Burp, the laughs have been driven out of prime time TV. And Britain is a duller place because of it. We need to make telly funny again. Here’s how: sack every TV comedy boss immediately. Scrap all the committees and focus groups. Forget demographics. End the bias against working class writers and performers. Revive Comedy Playhouse. Bring back the Comedians. Any questions?

* WHEN was TV funniest? When Jo Brand, Phill Jupitus and Meera Syal weren’t on it.

* WHAT a shocker that earthquake was. I was up at MTV when it hit and Amy Winehouse bolted. There are bits of Beth Ditko that are still wobbling.

* LENNY Henry plays the straight man in his new radio comedy. As opposed to what?

* DEATH stalked our TV screens this week. But enough about Bruce Forsyth…Tess Daly reckoned Happy Birthday Brucie was “the party Bruce Forsyth deserves." Now I know Brucie is a big-head but what had he done to deserve Jon Culshaw rapping or Liza Minnelli slaughtering New York New York? If that's variety, no wonder it's dead. She sounded like a drunk at a karaoke bar. Interesting to see how few of Brucie’s actual contemporaries bothered to show up. There was Jonathan Ross, there was Vernon Kay, there was Jools Holland who’d never met him before the night but hardly anyone he’d worked with over the years...draw your own conclusions. Bruce is a brilliant game-show host, he’s the master of the format, but that’s it. Forsyth’s firm belief that he is our equivalent of showbiz gods like Sammy Davis is shared by no-one. The best thing about Brucie’s birthday bash? Knowing that he will have gone absolutely bananas when he saw the show go out in the Antiques Roadshow slot...and when it got trashed by Dancing On Ice. Definitely not a case of “ice to see you, to see you ice…”

* AMERICAN Inventor is Dragon’s Den meets X-Factor. How come a show about new ideas is so lacking in them?

* NUTTIEST invention? A cuddly toy for adults that tells you ‘everything’s going to be all right.’ It’s infantile, it’s moronic, it appeals to people who haven’t grown-up…it’ll be a smash in the States.

* ODD scenes on EastEnders, but face it with Ian in his pants and Charlie’s groping frenzy it could have been much worse.

* NOT saying Clare’s a gold-digging slapper, but if Ian had opened her legs on Thursday he’d have found a city trader, two merchant bankers and an MP fiddling his expenses.

* BEST to avoid Bob Dylan songs on the Rovers juke-box now Sean has lost his Dylan. Specially: ‘It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue.’ Of course if he’d managed to ‘Lay Lady Lay’ in the first place, things might have turned out differently.

* YOU should stand in a door when a quake hits, say experts. So the only people guaranteed to survive a big one are bouncers, brasses and winoes.

* ANIMALS know when a quake is coming. On Emmerdale the horses were acting up and on Corrie Audrey Roberts wouldn’t go near her hay.

* Bushell On The Box can be found in full only in the Daily Star Sunday.

Feb 24. Over on Most Haunted, Yvette Fielding and her team of ‘psychics’ claimed they were being stalked by a one-eyed man. Was it Gordon Brown? Cos if any of these places actually were haunted, you can bet your life he’d slap a ghost tax on ‘em. Strangely, the spirits never turn up on camera. They must be awfully shy… Yvette churns out hours of this guff and all we ever see are “orbs” – small lights, said to be early signs of spook activity, which are obviously insects. Sometimes stones are mysteriously thrown, by the production team. And people have cold feelings – surprising that, in old, unheated buildings. There are séances, always in the dark for maximum effect, and the table is banged or shaken; but you never have locked-off cameras above and below showing everyone’s hands. (Knock twice for a tea-break…) Like a herpes sore, Most Haunted keeps coming back - even though one of Yvette’s own team exposed it. Parapsychologist Ciaran O’Keefe conned medium Derek Acorah by feeding him the names of invented dead people. Ghosts whose monikers were anagrams of ‘Derek Lies’ and ‘Derek Faker’ duly possessed Mr. Acorah. So he’s gone, and chunky female medium Johnnie Firori has replaced him. The team visited Coalhouse Fort in Essex, “a claustrophobic warren of paranormal activity” (translation: it had underground tunnels). Here Yvette had a conversation with a blinking light. “They’re learning to communicate,” she deduced. Yeah, either that, or it was an electrical fault. Johnnie said the fort was haunted by of pirates, even though it stands on the site of a military blockhouse built by Henry VIII in 1540. If there was any real “brigands” here she would have wobbled out faster than you could ask “Who ate all the ectoplasm?” When I went on I’m Famous & Frightened, ‘psychics’ claimed to feel the anguish of tortured spirits at Chillingham Castle, not realising the dungeon we were in was a recreation built for tourists. We were actually standing in what had been the stables. So what? you might say. It’s just harmless hokum. Except there is an entire industry of fake mediums out there preying on the vulnerable. It’s a national disgrace that we still broadcast this garbage.

* ITV2 took us Ghost-hunting With Corrie. Kim Ryder claimed to be possessed. Laugh? You nearly ouija self. Mind you, I bet she’s handled some rough ghoulies in her time.

* THINK twice the next time you ask for a tot in the Rovers. Violet gave birth there on Friday. (Her mood? Light and bitter). Given the strength of the beer, it was the nearest she could get to a water birth.

* POOR Vi, panting, screaming, legs apart, a man at both ends…it was like Julie Goodyear had never left.

* For the whole column see the Daily Star Sunday today.

Feb 21. Terrible news. The great Paul Gascoigne has been sectioned under the Mental Health Act. He has been sent to a grim institution for the retarded and the deranged with no chance of recovery. “It’s nice to have him back,” said Kevin Keegan. (Seriously? Gazza was the most gifted footballer of his generation. I wish him well.)

Feb 20. Sharon Osbourne changed a couple of times at The Brits, but never into a presenter. She heckled the Arctic Monkeys like a mad old bag lady, effed and blinded, and told Vic Reeves “You’re pissed, piss off.” It was cringe-worthy. (Sharon claims a vitamin shot made her feisty. Was it vitamin Gin? Or did she pick up one of Amy’s needles by mistake?) The music was good, but the awards were bizarre. Kylie, best international female? After that last album? They must be nuts. There were acceptance speeches that wouldn’t agitate an accountants’ conference, tumbleweed comedy moments and Will Young - so wooden it’s a wonder he didn’t put down roots.

PS. Next year, fire up the (Suzi) Quattro!

* Shame Macca didn’t update ‘When I’m 64 for Heather’: I thought that you’d please me/But you just fleeced me/Now you’re out the door (You no-good, scheming…..)

Feb 17. BBC3 said they were getting rid of their misshapen talking blobs, didn’t they? So how come they’ve given one of them their own talk-show? No, that’s unfair to Lily Allen. She actually spends more time giggling and gurgling than she does talking. Witless, feeble-minded and shockingly unoriginal, Lily Allen & Friends makes Charlotte Church look like Larry King. Everything about it is half-inched: bar chat (TFI), audience confessions (sub-Graham Norton), YouTube footage (Lenny Henry). There are interviews laying down (Big Breakfast), a Geordie voice-over (Big Brother) and a blunt old lady (Jay Leno). Lily seems a nice enough girl. She makes decent pop songs. But why give her a chat-show? All that public school education hasn’t exactly sharpened her brain. Lily isn’t funny or inquisitive, she can’t interview. She doesn’t have conversations; she just ploughs through a list of prepared questions. But hey, she can fit her fist in her gob! Beat that, Parky! Sadly she took it out again to call Cuba Gooding Jnr “a twat”. Oh that rapier wit. “My Mom says you are what you eat,” he replied. David Mitchell was articulate and funny, and consequently totally out of place on a show where the comedy highlight was “animals f***ing.” Snigger. The only new twist is the much-vaunted Myspace connection. If makers Princess Productions sign up with Bebo instead I’ll gladly supply the rope. Lily & Friends is “the flag-ship” of BBC3’s re-launch. On this showing, the ship is the RMS Titanic. They also served up Phoo Action (lame and derivative), yet another TV search for models (ditto), and on-screen continuity announcers. Whoopedoo. BBC3 costs us £119million a year – £700m to date. And for what? Self-indulgent, mediocre tosh like Little Miss Jocelyn and Tittybangbang. The one great show they originated was Gavin & Stacey, which could easily and more sensibly have started on BBC2. (The Mighty Boosh came via R4). Three may be a magic number, but it’s a tragic channel. Why? Largely because the patronising bosses think young must mean dumb. Here’s a radical idea: instead of churning out crud for the brain-dead, try commissioning something fresh, bold and original. Forget “demographics” and think quality. Then they might end up with a UK equivalent of Entourage or Curb Your Enthusiasm.

* STACEY took Bradley to a Doctor Who convention on EastEnders. It was the biggest Valentine’s Day let-down since Robbie Jackson gave his girlfriend a red rose and accidentally deflated her. There were Daleks, there were Cybermen…but no Slitheen (Mo and Charlie stayed at home). Stace was gutted that Brad won’t take her back. Duh! You shagged his dad! Next time try a Torchwood convention. Then at least you could claim that a memory-sapping alien had made you forget you were engaged.

* THOSE soap Valentine Card messages in full. Stacey to Bradley: ‘Oh Brad I really fancy you, and all of that palaver/Let’s get back together for a threesome with your father.’

Liam to Maria (Corrie): ‘Darling you looked wonderful in that wedding dress you wore/But when we’re in bed together, I think of my sister-in-law.’

* ARE the people who write EastEnders swigging old Dwaine Chambers’ urine samples? How can Charlie Slater be “middle-aged”? Derek Martin is 75 this year. He’s 66 in the show. News flash: not many people live to 132, you morons.

* According to Mo: "The milkman can't keep his eyes off me when I bend over." Of course he can't. What else could he see?

* RANDOM irritations: 1) Jean Slater’s bleating; never mind The Mosquito, if you want to drive yobs off street corners just play a loop-tape of Mad Jean banging on. 2). C5 remaking Minder. Why mess with perfection? 3) Keeley Hawes ruining Ashes To Ashes. 4) BBC1’s Bafta incompetence; Wossy’s mic had more echo than the Bunnymen.

HOT on TV: The Sopranos – proper grown-up drama…Weeds – more bongs than Trevor McDonald…the memory parasite on Torchwood – unforgettable …The Unit (Virgin 1) – harder than the A-Team, and not a cabbage firing cannon in sight.

ROT on TV: the Baftas – amateurish, laboured, and as flat as Keira Knightley…Skins – all style, no substance… BBC3 – the seventh circle of hell…Alex/Ryan (Corrie)…and The One & Only – how come these amateurs get on telly when the truly gifted Joe Longthorne can’t?

* LIAM and Maria had ‘Wonderwall’ as their wedding march on Corrie, but it won’t be long before he’s showing Carla his ‘Morning Glory.’ And Maria falls back on ‘Cigarettes & Alcohol’. (Who dressed Carla by the way, the Scottish Widows?)

* JAIME Winstone looks terrific as teen minx Whitey Action on Phoo Action. Her hot-pants have the same enchanted powers as Mary Poppins’s bag. Anyone wishing to make bad taste jokes about the magic in her pants should be reminded that her Dad is Ray Winstone. So leave it, you slags.

* FOR Bruce Forsyth’s 80th, let’s hope his friends and family sing ‘Happy Birthday To You’ just like Bruce himself would sing it – in the wrong key and forgetting half the words.

* WHAT should the Beeb call their Brucie celebrations? How about Baldy’s Big Night? * SMALL joys of TV: Monopoly rage (The Sopranos). Gene Hunt’s nude snooker (Ashes To Ashes). And Mary-Louise Parker (Weeds) – one of TV’s Top 5 MILFs (along with Patsy Kensit, Jo Joyner, Lusardi and Cheryl Hines).

* TV questions: Chris in his eye make-up on Ashes To Ashes: was that the Valentine’s Day Mascara? Dawn Gets Naked: why couldn’t it be Dawn Swann? And why isn’t BBC3’s new logo Lord Reith spinning in his tin?

* CURSE Ashes To Ashes. I’ve been singing ‘Geno’ all day. Only a pub bore would point out that it, and ‘Fade To Grey’, were from 1980, ‘Money’ was ’79, and Essex Girl as a term of abuse came much later in the decade. Nice to hear 'The Swords Of 1,000 Men' on the soundtrack though; not just a hit for Tenpole Tudor, but also Linsey Dawn McKenzie's theme tune.

* COLEEN makes a big thing about her Real Women being “girl-next-door” types. But if I lived next door to Sasha there wouldn’t be a connecting wall without a peephole.

* TV Name of the Week: US colon specialist: Dr Anil Ram. Honestly.

A RED Audi Quattro skids to a halt in a cloud of dust. A scowling smart-arse in snake-skin boots steps out. Within moments he has kneed an obnoxious Yuppie in the groin and told a tart: “If that skirt was hitched any higher I could see what you had for breakfast.” Gene Hunt! Welcome back you magnificent bastard. The caveman cop who made Life On Mars such a joy, has returned to rain pain on another generation of scum. Reason enough to celebrate, you’d think; except I’m not entirely sold on Ashes To Ashes yet. Hunt and his team of old-school Manc cops were figments of Sam Tyler’s imagination. Now they’re figments of DI Alex Drake’s imagination. She’s is a modern day police psychologist who studied Tyler’s debriefing tapes at such length her subconscious has recreated his delusions in minute detail. The amount of salt it’d take to buy that would give the Health Minister a seizure. But that’s not the problem. She is. Drake (Keeley Hawes) is a hoity-toity smarty-pants spouting psycho-babble (or “lah-di-dah posh bollocks” - Gene). She’s everything Hunt was the antidote to. Which is the point, I guess. But it’s pretty hard to like her. When Alex started banging on about “fatality outcomes” you half-sympathised with the drug nut who shot her. The BBC has taken one of the few modern home-grown male action dramas and feminized it for no apparent reason. Drake does supply sexual chemistry, I suppose. Amazed by how real her dream world seems, Alex feels Gene’s heart. He grabs her left breast and says: “Fandabbydozy. Now then, Bollinger Knickers, either kiss me or punch me.” Hugh Grant, eat yer heart out.

Ashes is set in 1981 not ’73, Hunt’s team have relocated to London, and Carling has a Ray Doyle-style “Bionic Golly” perm. Gene’s still The Guv to his team, and the director shoots him like a cross between Clint and the second coming. But down south, Gene is no longer the town sheriff. He’s a small fish in a murkier pool with superiors breathing down his neck. Gene Hunt remains a giant character. But the writers may have been too clever by half. Life On Mars was a tribute to The Sweeney. Now they’re trying to flog us a homage to a parody. Wouldn’t it have been smarter just to give Hunt a straight spin-off?

* SMALL Moans: Ashes is set in July 1981. Adam Ant didn’t release ‘Prince Charming’ until September. That Quattro wasn’t out until 1982. And why the Clash and Stranglers songs from the ’70s? ’81 was the Specials & Madness!

* BLIMEY. Hasn’t Deano changed? He came back to Walford, head-butted Sean and roughed up his Mum. But that’s the effect Strictly Come Dancing has on everyone. When the waltzing was over for Kaplinsky she terrorised the news room for months. No, prison transformed wimpy Deano into a hard-drinking, whore-humping tough-nut of course. After twelve weeks. Imagine if he’d done a year. He’d be like a cross between Reggie Kray and Uday Hussein. Elsewhere on EastEnders: the Hazel/Minty cobblers, Ian’s gay date …this could only seem like “real life” to a story producer with the good old Cockney name of Dominic Treadwell-Collins. Heather Trott’s crush, and I use the word advisedly, on poor old Garry is even more disturbing. Imagine that naked. She’d look like a giant dumpling with eyes. If her knickers were round her ankles, her arse would still be in them.

* IT was Fat Tuesday last week, the day when you can eat and drink whatever you like. Or as Heather calls it, Tuesday.

* LOST is back, but if I want to watch an hour of pointless cobblers, I'll stick with Coleen’s Real Women. At least that has an ending.

* The Ruts’ live DVD ‘The Gig’ and the Cockney Rejects' ‘East End To The West End’ are both out now and I have one of each (worth £36.99 together) to give to SIX lucky readers. For a chance to win just tell me what kind of music these bands play. Is it a) Emo b) Trip-hop or c) Punk? Answers on a postcard by Wednesday to Garry’s Ruts Contest, PO Box 10220, Sutton Coldfield, B76 1ZH. To buy the Rejects DVD direct go to www.gandrlondon.com; the Ruts one can be bought from www.TheRuts.BigCartel.com

Feb 3. FAY is pregnant and David, her fella, is delighted. Fay is 17, he’s 48. So technically they are both with child. David compares the two of them to Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta Jones, neglecting to mention that CZJ was 31 when she got married, and her husband hadn’t done bird for abducting her. Welcome to Teenage Wives, a creepy look at real-life couples defying “the stigma of the age gap.” David met Fay when he was her instructor on an outward bound course. She didn’t “think the same as the average 15/16 year old,” he said. No, the average 15 year old would have thought: “Why is this dodgy old pervert leching after me? Someone call a cop!” Hayley and Dexter seem less suspect. She’s 40, he’s 20. They met at salsa classes and he did all the running. Dexter’s workmates understand the appeal. “Older women are more experienced in bed,” said one. Yeah? Well, wait till bedtime means adventures with dentures and he’s grating cheese on her wrinkles. One of Hayley’s beauty salon clients remarked “It seems to be going uphill for you”; which may explain how she keeps him. The third couple, Lucia,16, and Mark, 18, are A level students. She’s expecting. “How does that happen?” she asked. Not A level biology then...

Spotted anything about these women yet? That’s right, not one of them is actually a teenage wife - par for the course for this sloppy Sky One series. Last week they gave us Gangster’s Wives without a single gangster. There was one bouncer and his missus living in a Thurrock semi. Essex girl Crystal who claimed to date gangsters but was never seen with one. And Becky, 57, living in Spain whose toy-boy/alleged hood insisted on having his face pixilated. (You’d have to be pixilated to get into bed with her.) If he’s a gangster he must be the world’s worse - they only had one miserable little rust-bucket motor between them. Transvestite Wives were funnier – as Harry Hill pointed out it was hard to tell the real wives apart from their cross-dressing husbands. Next week? Polygamous Wives. Imagine that. Multiple mothers-in-law. Argghhh! But on the plus side, you would get group discount on holidays.

* IF Fay and David have a row, does he send her to the naughty step? If they marry and then divorce, he could still get custody of her…

* LAST week The Man Who Eats Badgers. This week, The Man Who Eats Hamsters met the Woman Who Eats Beaver… Celebrity Wife Swap returned featuring that one with the breasts – Freddie Starr – and Page 3 girl turned lesbian singer Sam Fox. Freddie gave Sam a bouquet. “I got them from a graveyard,” he said. Probably the one where he’d just buried his career. Poor Fred. In his 1970s heyday, the guy was a comic god. His 1996 Audience With was a spectacular return to form. But this show was a train wreck. Freddie played right into C4’s hands. He managed to make stroppy Sam look reasonable, while he came over as a bone-idle, pig-headed liability. Slurring and shaking, he seemed like Ozzy without the charm. Is he finished? Almost certainly. To come back again Freddie would need to clean up, buy a new act, get in shape – physically and mentally - and find a sympathetic producer to bring out the best in him. Whatever happened to that Nigel Lythgoe guy?

* A PAGE 3 girl turned lesbian singer…she’s DD-Lang.

HOT on TV: Terry Duckworth (Corrie) – you’d shake his hand just to keep it out of the till… Michael McIntyre (Comedy Live) - clean, clever, funny…The Office – An American Workplace (ITV2)…Justin Lee Collins…and Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares USA – chilli con carnage.

ROT on TV: Michael Underwood sobbing like a girl (Mincing On Ice)… Celebrity Ding-Dong – all dong…Coleen McLoughlin - errmmm… Celebrity Wife Swap – greatest stitch-up since the Bayeux Tapestry… Roseanne Barr (Comedy Live)… and Essential Kylie – no Kylie is essential.

* SALLY Morgan (Septic Peg) bills herself as “Princess Di’s personal psychic”. Is that much of an advert? It’s not like she ever got a message for her saying, just a small tip, luv, keep your seat belt done up…

* BORED Yank housewife Carolyn reinvented herself as an avatar – animated character – in Second Life, a virtual internet world (Wonderland). Her hard-working hubby and four kids lived in a pig-sty while this lazy trollop wasted her days pretending to be an Amazonian beauty. She fell for English Elliot’s Uzi-clutching avatar and had virtual sex with him – not very exciting; their characters bumped together a bit while they worked them one-handed. If this is the future of infidelity, bring back Ernie the milkman. The dream dissolved when they met for real. Both turned out to be as exciting as a frozen flan.

* HOW long before MPs have their avatars on the pay-roll?

* SMALL joys of TV: Dwight’s “gay-dar” (The Office). Baron Charlie Lush (Ladette To Lady). And the Jam & Jerusalem theme tune – the golden shred in Jennifer Saunders’ marmalade of mediocrity.

* CLAIRE’S back in Walford, thrown from a car wearing boots and fishnets. Where’s she been? Band Of Gold? Claire took one look at the Queen Vic and started screaming. Hey kid, welcome to my world.

* I LIKED Holly Willoughby’s peek-a-boob dress; it really brought out the bust in her.

* VERA’S funeral (Corrie). “It’s Co-op,” said Blanche. “I recognise the hearse.” Wonderful stuff. Mind you, was it worth Betty coming home from the crem?

* BECKY and Jason were talking about having sex on a bouncy castle. To know what that feels like, just ask Lisa Dingle’s last boyfriend.

* SCARY woman of the week: Sam Fox’s girlfriend, Myra Strap-On, sorry, Stratton. Play join-the-dots with her moles and they actually spell “Diesel Dyke.”

• GARY Beadle plays a stud-for-hire in net comedy Call Mickey (log.tv). In show one, he dressed as a fox and was hunted by randy posh girls. It gave new meaning to “the whipper-in”. Not to mention the hunting horn.

* MICHAEL Scott (Steve Carrell) carelessly out-ed Hispanic co-worker Oscar on The Office - An American Workplace. It was nearly as funny as Diversity Day, when Scott asked him if he preferred any term besides Mexican, "something less offensive?" “Mexican is not offensive!" Oscar replied indignantly. "Well," said Scott. "It has certain connotations..."

* For contests and goofs see the Daily Star Sunday today.

Jan 30. Sad to hear that Jeremy Beadle has died. He was a far more complex man than he appeared to be on TV; bright, funny and great company. He understood comedy in a way that many television comedy execs don’t, and Beadle’s About was one of the funniest shows ITV ever made. I remember it mostly for the giant Cockney ladies he would gently goad by such simple ruses as building public urinals on the side of their houses. The resulting explosions were laugh-out loud funny. I was kinder to him than most TV critics; the broadsheet brigade found Jeremy’s humour cruel and he came under increasing pressure to water it down, ruining the show. But his school of wind-up comedy was aped by everyone from Noel Edmonds (the Gotchas) to Chris Morris (Brass Eye) via Steve Penk. ITV tried to recreate the formula with Red-Handed but it never caught on with the public the way Beadle had. The papers called him The Most Hated Man in Britain. Understandably Jeremy didn’t like the press, (nor do I, much) but we got on OK. He had a brilliant jackdaw brain, full of trivia; he worked tirelessly for charity, and he genuinely loved turns. He championed old school joke-telling comedians like Tony Joe and backed my campaign to revive talent shows. I bumped in to him last summer at Blackpool’s Queens Hotel; he didn’t look well then but he persuaded me to go to the Tower Circus, which turned out to be a truly thrilling experience and is probably the best in Britain. Through Beadle I also met showbiz giants like Ernest Maxim, Morecambe & Wise’s producer, and Richard Desmond the rock-drumming entrepreneur turned newspaper baron. Already the text message jokes have started: Beadle’s Not About, You’ve Been Flamed, and bad tastes gags about short-hand and dropping the coffin to get £250 from You’ve Been Framed. I don’t think he would have minded. If there's any justice in Heaven, let's hope God greeted Beadle in a devil mask.

Jan 30. Disgraced Tory Derek Conway says that he will stand down at the next election. He wants to spend less time with his family.

Jan 28. Hazel, 73, on EastEnders says she's pregnant. She's not the only on feeling sick...

Jan 27. If you like your women drunk, loud and easier than a pre-school puzzle book, then Ladette To Lady is for you. Essex girl Holly is the worst of this year’s predictably charmless in-take. She gets “laggered” seven nights a week, and boasts that she’s had more one-night-stands than she’s had hot dinners. And Holly doesn’t strike you as a salad kind of girl. Other delicate damsels include bisexual bouncer Kelle, geezer-bird Simone and Neema, a fighting hairdresser. These girls are so rough, brazen and shameless they’d make Jack Bauer tremble. (Although frankly, in Charlton Village they’d seem run of the mill.) But what must their mum and dads think? Do the neighbours stop them on the street and say “I saw your Holly on TV talking about shagging strangers, you must be so proud”? Like most Reality TV, Ladette To Lady is really about laughing at the working classes. ITV pack the girls off to posh Eggleston Hall, a former finishing school, where they’re coached in antiquated etiquette. Yet the women chosen to re-build them are, in their own way, just as frightful. Headmistress Gill and domestic science teacher Rosemary could be straight out of Little Britain. Gill looks like Dennis Thatcher in drag. Rosemary (Lady To Lardy) is more like Ben Grimm from the Fantastic Four. They’re joined by “etiquette expert” Liz Brewer, an insufferable snob whose idea of what constitutes “a lady” is absurdly old-hat and class ridden: Wear twin sets, play croquet, suck up to toffee-nosed gits (what? No penny-farthing rides?) The girls were taught how to eat oysters: “You need to suck it in and don’t swallow.” Surely the worst advice any young woman could get… These daft kids, desperate for unearned ‘fame’, have no standards because they’ve been raised in a world that thinks having moral values is being ‘judgemental’. They are encouraged to play up for the cameras by cynical producers for the amusement of the watching nation. We laugh at the boozy floosies, debagging toffs and they get a quick-fix of TV notoriety. If that sounds jaded it’s cos we’ve seen it all before. But in fairness it’s still more fun than Celebrity Hijack.

* WHEN Kelle works the doors, do men walk past mumbling “Lovely bouncers”? She’s bi. Anyone can get inside as long as they’re not wearing trainers.

* WHO wants a woman with a plum in their mouth anyway? Two, maybe…

* HOLLY is so short she’d have to stand up to go down. She has to drink to have a good time. If she went to Disneyland she wouldn’t be able to get on half the rides.

* CURB Your Enthusiasm is the funniest sitcom on TV. So naturally it’s tucked away on More4 like a mad aunt in a horror film. Heaven forbid a work of comic genius should be allowed to muck up C4’s sparkling evenings of must-see cooking and property shows. Larry David, who co-created Seinfeld, plays himself as a pig-headed misery-guts. Only Prince Phillip can be more relied on to say the wrong thing. Meeting a family of black hurricane refugees, called the Blacks, Larry said: “That’s like me being called Larry Jew.” Each episode is a symphony of comic embarrassments; this week involving erotic bakers, party-dodging and Larry’s too-honest answer in a parlour game. You watch through your fingers as it builds up to a crescendo of cringe.

HOT on TV: Curb Your Enthusiasm – hotter than Amy’s crack-pipe…Ross Kemp In Afghanistan – his first war zone since his marriage…Reaper (E4)…and Dispatches – Ken Behaving Badly.

ROT on TV: Wild At Heart – weak in the head…Echo Beach – washed up…Caitlin Moran – prattling moron…Jam & Jerusalem - as sharp as a strawberry sponge…Big Brother – from F-word to N-word to Zzz-word…Nick Hancock – as exciting as Bolton FC…and BBC comedy – its reputation is now more soiled than Gail Platt’s bed-sheets.

* BBC2 billed retired civil servant Arthur Boyt as ‘The Man Who Eats Badgers’, although he actually scoffs anything. Foxes, squirrels, hedgehogs, a barn owl…if it’s dead it’s in his fridge or frying pan. Just as well Boyt doesn’t live in Walford or he’d have a freezer full of Kevin Wicks. He’d still be tucking in to Tiffany Mitchell. Make him TV’s next celebrity chef! Arthur Boyt’s Roadkill Recipes: Crispy Poodles, Instant Whippet and Mystery Meat Tarka (like tikka but a little otter). Or for the really hungry, Cook The Dead Donkey.

* I DON’T mind Lenny Henry watching viral videos for half an hour every Monday, but why does he have to do it on TV?

* JUSTIN Lee Collins worked with a dummy this week…for the first time since Rupert Everett hosted the Friday Night Project.

* THANK God You’re Here - it started as a title, ended up a message to the last remaining viewer.

* MEMO to Paxman: to really understand pants, talk to the BBC’s Head Of Comedy. It’s genuinely shocking that a show as lame and witless as Little Miss Jocelyn can get made.

* RANDOM irritations: ITV splitting films either side of News At Ten. Corrie not bringing back Archie Shuttleworth for Vera’s funeral. The sad decline of Shameless. Anthea Turner getting turfed off BBC3 for being “too old” – instead of just for being cack.

• SCARY woman of the week: obsessive bodybuilder Donna (Help I’ve Got A High Maintenance Wife). She has extreme mood swings, a voice as deep as Barry White, and very probably a fine pair of bollocks.

• For contests, goofs, more gags and look-alikes see the column in its entirety only in the Daily Star Sunday.

Jan 20. Torchwood and despite being chased by our heroes, an evil fish-headed alien still stopped at red lights to let an old dear cross the road. Shoot-outs with Captain Jack are one thing but not even a psychotic space freak would take on the Welsh traffic Taliban.

* What an ugly alien. It was the scariest fish-faced monstrosity seen in Cardiff since Pete Burns’s last tour.

* Last night on Primeval, Hannah Spearritt had to slap away a large, one-eyed snake… this stuff writes itself, doesn’t it? At the end it swelled up and spat at her. Oh Lordy.

Jan 15. Peggy Mitchell made Poxy Roxy cover up her assets with a red t-shirt tonight. "Punters who spend less time ogling you might spend more on beer," said Peg. Leave out love. If they're ogling Poxy they're pissed enough already.

Jan 13 Jan 20. Bushell On The Box is in the Daily Star Sunday today, a snip at 85p.

Jan 12. Congratulations to Nicole Ritchie who had a baby daughter yesterday. She weighed 7lbs 6oz. No idea how heavy the baby was.

Jan 10. The Bill has sacked loveable sexual degenerate Jeff ‘Reg Hollis’ Stewart. Distraught Jeff tried to top himself. Don’t fret mate, you won’t be out of work long. Ex-Bill star, suicidal, troubled private life…you’re a shoe-in for EastEnders.

Jan 6. Over-heard backstage at The One & Only last night: “I’m not a fat Elvis impersonator, I’m Amy Lamé.” Don’t miss Bushell On The Box in the Daily Star Sunday today.

Jan 2. Best wishes to Ken Dodd facing a four hour op. It should have been two hours, but you know Doddy.

January 1st: Happy New Year! This blog is suspended for the next few weeks as I’m putting all my spare time into writing my new book. Bushell On The Box will continue to appear in full in the Daily Star Sunday.

* New Year’s Eve, Walford, and the only thing emptier than Ronnie’s club is the writers’ ideas box. Another crash! This soap has seen more car carnage than Police Camera Action. Still, it gave Phil Daniels his finest soap acting scene – as a corpse. I was moved to tears, of laughter, as Kevin croaked. He wrote off his cut ’n’ shut Golf with his nut ’n’ slut ex. As Shirl leant over him, Kev went cross-eyed. Was it the pain, or an involuntary response to her breath – a heady mix of fags, phlegm and other men’s cock…tails?

Don’t dwell on the speed of his funeral or the lack of a post-mortem… Dec 31. HATS off to 2007, a great year for TV. Unless you were the Queen, Blue Peter or the poor sod who shreds the phone bills for ITV. Who knew that GMTV stood for Get Millions by Twisting Viewers? It was a year of dross and scandal. But our screens still bulged, like Wogan’s moleskin trousers, with quality. So here to honour the best, and worst, of 2007 are the only Baftas that matter – the Bushell Awards for TV Achievement. Man of the Year: DCI Gene Hunt (Life On Mars). He never fitted up anyone who didn’t deserve it. Woman of the Year: Alesha Dixon, just the thought of her fandango makes strong men go weak at the knees. Show of the Year: Heroes. Turkey of the Year: Totally Jodie Marsh. Twerp of the Year: Jacquie Budden, a woman so dim she can’t watch The Teletubbies without having it explained to her. Top TV Horror: The moving statues on Doctor Who’s incredible Blink episode. Runner-up: Antony Cotton singing ‘I Predict A Riot.’ Sexiest Scene: Billie Piper pleasuring herself (Diary Of A Call-Girl) – also Best-ever Use of Sonic Screwdriver. Top Cop (UK): Gene Hunt. US: Vic Mackey (The Shield). Worst Cop: Janine Lewis (Blue Murder). Most over-looked crime show: Smith. Top Villain: Jade – the first Goody more irritating than Bill Oddie. Best TV Question: Are You Smarter Than A Ten-Year-Old? (Supplemental question: is Noel taller than a ten-year-old?) Top Comedy: Harry Hill’s TV Burp. Worst: Get A Grip – if only we could, on Ben Elton’s neck, and squeeze the smirk off his face. Top Sitcom: Gavin & Stacey. Top Comedy Drama: Entourage. Top Drama: The Sopranos. Some moaned cos no-one was killed at the end. I felt the same about Live Earth. Worst Drama: Joe’s Palace – you’d have more fun watching Crystal Palace. Top Look-alike: Big Brother grump Carole and a) Millie Tant (Viz) b) Mrs Twit and c) Marjory the Fraggle Rock rubbish tip. Top Death: Joe on EastEnders. Jim shoved him through a closed window; somehow he did a 90 degree turn and then shot sideways over the wall, clearing the pavement, to perish on a market stall. Top soap villain: David Platt. Top Soap Babe: Kara Tointon. Top Teen Temptress: Rosie Webster. Worst Soap: the X-Factor judges. Most missed characters: Charlie Stubbs, Danny Baldwin. Douglas Bader Annual Award for Ballroom Grace: Kate Garraway, if she were a topless dancer she’d have two left tits. Best Factual: Tribe. Worst: Ulrika…Am I A Sex Addict? Best Reality contender: Brian ‘Gump’ Belo. Runner-up: Janice Dickinson. Worst: Shanessa. Best Chat: Al Murray. Worst: Peter & Katie. Best-paid: Jonathan Ross. £520 a minute? Daylight wobbewy. Top Wind-ups: Fonejacker. Top Chef: Marco. Top Irritant: Heather Mills. Runners-up: Charley (BB8); Brian Dowling (Hell’s Kitchen). Best Row (Real): Charley and the N-word (Nuisance). Best Row (Fictional): Monopoly rage (The Sopranos) Best Career Move: Chris Biggins entering jungle. Worst: Cerys letting Bannerman enter her. Worst Talent: DanceX (BollX). Plonker of the year: Brian’s (BB8). Fake Week? It was always snake week in Brian’s pants. Runner-up: Louis Walsh. Quote Of The Year: “Save the cheer leader, save the world” (Heroes). Top Goof: Kevin Ashman, talking about a local dish on Eggheads: “I went to Guernsey last year but I didn’t get round to eating any gache.” Going up: Simon Amstell. Going down: Chris Langham - started his career on Not The 9o’Clock News; finished it on ITN, CNN, News 24… Non-event of 2007: Live Earth. “Turn it off”? Most viewers did.

Dec 28. Is it fair that Parky gets knighted and Emu doesn’t? The bird did all the work.

Dec 25. Merry Christmas to all. Shame about the telly, eh? Today's TV was the biggest wash-out since Frank Gallagher last got hosed down. Where were the laughs, the seasonal magic? BBC1 let us down most because we expect so much from them. I had high hopes for Doctor Who, the jewel in the Corporation’s Christmas crown. The Doc notched up some terrific shows last series, especially ‘Blink’ by Steven Moffat. But this festive episode was lazy, over-blown twaddle; FX-driven and derivative. Russell T. Davies didn’t just nick elements of the Poseidon Adventure, he also gleefully cannibalised the Doctor’s own recent past. As soon as you saw those golden angels you knew they’d be evil (just like last year’s sinister Santas). This was Who by numbers. Ridiculous plot? Check. Iffy religious symbolism? Check. Doc loves and loses? Check. Doc makes cheesy speech? Check. Doc doubts himself but ultimately saves the world? You’re ahead of me. As sci-fi, it stank; with Russ falling back on the old ‘sonic screwdriver as magic wand’ device as a substitute for invention. It felt like he’d started with one strong visual idea - the Titanic in space (© Douglas Adams) - and sketched in the rest: an explosion here, a chase scene there, and some garbled gobbledegook as a throw-away explanation. The result was a strange mix of death, destruction and camp silliness, symbolised by that strange creature with the immobile face: Kylie Minogue. Kylie played Astrid (an anagram of Tardis). She was hits (also an anagram). Never a great actress, even Kylie’s totty status is now questionable. She and Tennant had as much chemistry as a Stone Age settlement. The villain was rubbish – Billy Butlin in a souped-up golf cart. And all the bangs and bluster couldn’t distract us from mysteries like why would this alien tour operator obsessed with early 20th Century Earth name his vessel after a ship that sank on its maiden voyage? It’s like South Sea Bubble Investments or a Russell Brand Chastity School. Besides if the sonic screwdriver is so all-powerful why not just zap the hostile angel Host from the off? Doctor Who works best when the storyline makes sense and keeps you guessing. Here it was sloppy, throw-away and up-itself; sunk by an ice-burg of smugness. Roll on Torchwood.

DOCTOR Who mysteries: how did the Doc kiss Kylie in her ghostly form? How did Frame stay upright? He was shot point-blank in the chest, yet stayed on his feet to steer the vessel just by putting his hand over the wound. When the ship breached the Tardis, why didn't the air rush out and kill the Doc? And why did that alien yuppie have a modern-day earth mobile phone?

* FURIOUS Brad told the whole Vic about Stacey on the Christmas Day EastEnders. “She is a slut,” he announced. To which the casual observer might respond: Well, duh! She’s a Slater! Poor Brad. It was like walking into the Kremlin in 1930 and accusing the doorman of being a bit of a Bolshevik. It’s the Vic, they’re all slappers! Although in fairness Stace has got a long way to go before she catches up with shameless trollops like Sozzled Shirl and Poxy Roxy. Still, if bawling misery was what you were after in the season of good cheer, Enders delivered brilliantly. Brad chinned Max, Tan slapped Stacey. It was compulsively watchable, an emotional train wreck, well directed and performed. It’s just a shame it wasn’t immortalised in song for the Walford Carol Service. All together (to the tune of Good King Wenceslas): Bad Max Branning dropped his kecks for his son’s girlfriend/And because he played away, two marriages will end/Bradley smacked him in the jaw, Tanya took a tumble/Won’t be long till sneaky Sean is in there for a fu—um-ble.

* This year's top Xmas toy? The Amy Winehouse action figure. You wind it up and it gets out of its box all on its own.

Dec 23. Dec 22. Has he gone yet? Parkinson I mean. No disrespect, he’s a TV institution and all that. But Parky took longer to leave ITV than our troops did getting out of Basra. And they didn’t have to suffer Judi Dench singing. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s retired either. Yet we’ve had a month of back-slapping nostalgia and more old flannel than a pyjama warehouse. Last weekend Billy Connolly, Michael Caine and David Attenborough turned out for him; a glittering line-up which Peter Kay likened accurately to Cocoon. Tonight, we got more vintage footage – Burton, Lennon, Orson Welles, Connolly again, and of course the Emu. And because you can’t get mugged down Memory Lane it was terrific telly. It also reminded us that Parky’s heyday was the 1970s on BBC1. So why did ITV make such a song and dance about him? And what must Des O’Connor make of it all? Des, older readers will recall, was ITV’s own chat show king, regularly delivering thirteen million viewers a week. Des had just as many magic moments as Parky, most involving Freddie Starr, Stan Boardman and Fokker Wolf planes. But ITV axed his hit show, replacing him disastrously with Brian Conley, and shunted Des to early afternoons where he doubled their viewing figures. So they moved him again and cut his budget, before replacing him disastrously with Sharon Osbourne. And that was it. There were no tributes, no farewell specials, no rosy-tinted look-backs. Nothing. And OK, Parky was a more substantial interviewer. At his best he was inquisitive, knowledgeable and he asked difficult questions. But the Parkinson who sparred verbally with the great Mohammad Ali became a blithering and at times embarrassing beast on ITV, asking the likes of Tamzin Outhwaite searching questions like: “Have you always been gorgeous?” Chat shows have changed, and so has the nature of celebrity. The hosts have got funnier as the stars got smaller. And Parky? He just felt out of time. Jonathan Ross is the score to beat now. ITV need someone just as bright, cheeky and informed to take him on. Danny Baker or Nick Ferrari could do it. But on past form, they’ll probably give their next chat show to Kerry Katona.

Dec 19. Oliver Twist is everything you’d expect from BBC1. Pointless, hammy, miscast and rendered unwatchable by Timothy Spall’s horrendous Fagin. The accents are all over the shop, Bill Sykes is nowhere near hard enough and Bumble’s a clown. The script strains to over-egg a story that a) doesn’t need improving and b) has been told much better many times before. In fairness, though, the costumes and sets are pretty decent. Can’t the Beeb find a more contemporary drama to remake? George Orwell’s 1984 would be a good start.

Dec 17. The X-Factor final was a travesty. Rhydian was robbed! We tried to vote for him and couldn’t. Now it turns out thousands of fans had the same problem, meaning the Crying Boy won, a result that will only satisfy the bookies…and Simon Cowell. Because now he’ll get two stars out of this – a short-lived pop career for Leon, and a potentially longer one for the weird, wonderful and undeniably talented Rhydian Roberts. This row looks likely to run and run, which by coincidence is what Simon has done – he’s just jetted off to Barbados leaving millions of angry viewers behind him. A disappointing end to a series that didn’t deliver. The only people who come out of Saturday’s final well are Rhydian and Kylie Minogue. What a brave woman she is. Some slippery tealeaf clearly made off with her costume minutes before she came on stage, forcing plucky little Kylie to improvise. She ended up appearing in front of millions in the orange Satsuma bag she’d found in her dressing room.

16/12. Don't miss Bushell On The Box, only in the Daily Star Sunday today.

14/12. How come Jim McDonald on Corrie looks tanned and relaxed after all those years in nick while son Steve, with his Parkhurst pallor and DIY crop, looks like an escapee from Prison Break? Walford has even more mysteries. Why would Billy take that smashed charity boy home, instead of, say, dumping in a skip or the canal? Why doesn’t he just ask his cousin Loadsamoney Phil for a loan to see him over Xmas? Why didn’t Phil notice someone had broken into the Arches and splashed petrol everywhere? And most puzzling of all, how come Squiggle is getting darker?

* Billy Mitchell rose effortlessly to the top of my EastEnders misery-ometer this week. No job, no home, reduced to robbing charity boxes…if Billy rung the Samaritans and said he felt like topping himself they’d tell him it was probably for the best.

12/12. Alan Davies has bitten a tramp's ear. It brings whole new meaning to Q.I. - Quite Inedible. Alan's a vegetarian, so the dosser should count his blessing that he doesn't have cauliflower ears. I reckon someone told him it was fun to bite a bum and he got the wrong end of the stick. Talking of which, Alan would have bitten Posh Spice, but he doesn't like artificial toppings.

* GOD bless Joan Rivers. The woman has more bite than Alan Davies in a Cardboard City feeding frenzy. Shameless Joan stormed on to the Royal Variety stage like an animated corpse, denouncing the other acts and shaking up this annual snooze-fest. “Fatso sang my opera,” she said of Paul Potts. “The other one played my piano. And they’ve told me I’m not allowed to swear, so good night and thank you.” But Joan stayed and churned out a cavalcade of near-the-knuckle chuckles: “It’s my daughter’s birthday,” she said. “34 years ago tonight in New York City I was going ‘Get this thing out of me!’ And 34 years ago plus nine months, I was saying the same thing.” She swore – deliberately of course. But Joan got her biggest cheer when she introduced “the most amazing balancing act since Heather Mills got her new leg.” Liverpool clearly takes a dim view of unhinged, parasitical nuisances. This was a much better Royal show than last year’s miscast disaster, but the hosts stank. What have Kate Thornton and Philip Schofield got to do with entertainment? Thornton is an average-looking boiler who isn’t funny, interesting or opinionated. While Schofield is a smug git who talks about women’s periods on day-time TV, which isn’t any kind of a job for a man at all. Lumbered with a leaden, laugh-free script, it felt like they were lecturing us, rather than moving the proceedings up a gear as a proper compere – like Bradley Walsh or Brian Conley – would have done. Paul Potts deserved his big moment, but he was off-key. Have his new teeth nobbled him? ITV’s comedy bookings remain as baffling as John Malkovich’s accent in Beowulf. Stephen K. Amos struggled. What was he doing so high on the bill? The tokenism was transparent, and insulting. Al Murray’s Incy-Wincy Spider didn’t work. Nor did Big Howard Little Howard. And as for Russell Brand…he may be a delightful rascal, but ITV had to crank up the canned laughter to make him sound like a smash. The visual response didn’t match what we were hearing. Wouldn’t it be better to book hot bands and proven comics rather than the other way round? Not Tarby, though. The theatre audience loved him, but Jimmy’s gags made Joan Rivers seem youthful.

11/12. Bob Spink asked a question in the House about the European Gendarmerie Force today. He asked the Foreign Secretary to give an undertaking that the EGF would never be allowed to operate on British soil. Milliband’s answer was: "...but I am happy to reassure him that a nation must give its consent before any operation can be held in it." In other words…no. Armed foreign cops will be allowed to operate here.

Dec 9. Don't miss Bushell On The Box today, only in the Daily Star Sunday.

Dec 6. Have you ever caught Jongleurs Unleashed on Paramount? It's actually Jongleurs Recycled. The footage is so old I swear I saw Brucie in the audience with all his own hair. Most of the comedians are so-so but you'll usually find at least one funny turn per episode. This week they had a lovely old Simon Evans routine about Peckham… which is not quite as lovely jubbly as TV has led us to believe. Evans discussed the winoes, "out-door lager enthusiasts out there in all weather with their amusing demands for money"…and asked why, if you're homeless, would you choose to stay in Peckham? They also had Omid on this week, from so long ago he had a beard as black as Osama’s heart, but crucially he did exactly the same material as he performed on his BBC1 show last month. How much is the Beeb paying for Omid's collection of old jokes and weak sketches? And what annoys you more? That he gets TV simply because he's fashionably ethnic, or that truly great comedians - Mick Miller, Adrian Walsh, Terry Alderton - don't?

Dec 8. Statistic revealed this week. Trinity Mirror gave the Sunday Mirror a promotions spend of £4million this year. They gave the People £104K. That's less than one thirtieth of the SM budget. I've said before that Trinity Mirror treat the ailing People like the runt of the litter. I take it back. It's much worse than that.

Dec 2.ITV has a problem in common with many 50-year-olds: it isn’t comfortable in its own skin. It wants to be younger, hipper, sexier. It wants to be Channel 4. The results are as embarrassing as seeing your Dad out on the razz wearing his strides like 50 Cent. Take Saturday Night Again. ITV bragged that they were “bringing back variety” to Saturday night TV. The boast turned out to be as empty as Dawn French’s selection box on Boxing Day. The new acts they booked would have struggled to make the heats of Britain’s Got Talent. Peter Firman is a seen-it-all-before magician whose big finish was to throw maggots at the audience – like Freddie Starr did to considerably more effect in 1996. While most people watching We Are Klang will have concluded You Are Krap. Host Marcus Brigstocke looks like a supply teacher but isn’t as funny. Brigstocke - another posh, public school drop-out with right-on views - has no discernable charm, but at least his script proved Anne Robinson no longer has a monopoly on the weakest links, Even the bigger names disappointed. Likeable Lee Mack appeared nervous; his chicken/Chechen gag must have seemed really fresh in the 1990s. Mitchell & Webb labouring through a truly feeble routine made you think more fondly of Little & Large. While Ben Elton was his old tedious motor-mouth self. “Everything’s got too big,” he moaned. Except Ben’s laughs. Brilliant Jimmy Carr has great repose and more decent lines than Pete Doherty. It’s just a shame that Jimmy, and most of his gags, have just had major airings on BBC1 and C4. Jo Caulfield is a good comice, but she misfired here. Sneering at people who shop at Argos might go down a storm on Radio 4 but not on ITV. What’s wrong with Argos anyway? (Other than that you can’t buy a golden fleece there…) The original C4 Saturday Live showcased then-unknown greats like Lee Evans and Harry Enfield. ITV filled theirs with gits from niche channels. Most had little mainstream appeal. (Jocelyn has little appeal even on BBC3.) Saturday Live was heralded as a “revolution” against the cosy comedy of Russ Abbot and the Two Ronnies. It actually signalled a middle class take-over. The millions who preferred Eric & Ernie to Fry & Laurie are no longer served by television comedy.

Read all of Bushell On The Box only in the Daily Star Sunday today, a snip at 85p.

Dec 1. Tony Holland, the co-creator of EastEnders has died aged 67. Tony came up with the idea of the soap set in a Victorian square, and based the characters on his own family, which is why the show had a sense of realism back then. We all knew a Lou Beale and an Angie Watts. And we knew men like Den were to be avoided at all costs. The characters and the relationships rang true. Compare that to the depressing schizophrenic mess that the soap has become, as slowly, madly and dully, it lurches towards its traditional Christmas of Tears. In the coming weeks Kevin Wicks will die; while Max and Bradley’s marriages will go belly up, an emotional catastrophe that’s been more signposted than the O2 stadium. This week Vinnie Monks used Pat to make Shirley jealous. That’s Fat Pat, a 65 year-old, 18stone, hard-faced pensioner; a woman so frightful her first husband died on purpose. It was as baffling as a) Vinnie fancying Shirl while he was sober and b) Vinnie then turning the trashy, tipsy Terrahawk down when she wanted him… Meanwhile Uneven Steven has been smashing up his own stall for no convincing reason. Deano is being bashed about by a prison bully. And Billy Mitchell, the soap’s perpetual whipping boy, was sacked from Fat Barry’s old part-time joke job as a Christmas elf. Ho-ho-bloody hopeless. Billy ended up rolling home as pissed as Shirley’s mattress to the disgust of Honey, his simpleton missus, but worse is yet to come. They’ll be homeless soon. Keep punching Billy, son, you’ll get knocked out soon enough. Meanwhile the writers have made Phil crooked – he never was to start with. When he first appeared on screen he was just hard. Now he’s the only villain you know who dresses like a tramp, lives with his Mum and habitually grasses. The week’s big story was Kevin stealing and torching a knocked-off motor which Phil had supplied and which he’d accidentally flogged to a copper. Although why he didn’t just change the plates and flog it again escapes me. Oh and they’ve re-opened the e20, AKA Scarlet’s, the Cobra Club, Angie’s Den and now the R ‘n’ R… Whatever they call it, it’s the only nightclub that opens in daylight. It’s such an economic disaster even Branson wouldn’t bail it out. The good news? Dawn Swann is working there and appears to have the Mitchell Brothers down her top. The bad news? The Mitchell Sisters are in charge. Poxy fancies herself as a DJ; she also fancies and every bloke in Walford. And Ronnie is being stand-offish with Jack, so they’ll be an item in the New Year (ditto, Tania and Sean.) But it’s not all joyless, predictable garbage honest. Heather did a wacky dance and Phil half-inched two of Ronnie’s fuses. Laugh? I nearly head-butted a Samaritan. Today’s EastEnders is a pale, joyless shadow of the soap it once was. The noise you’ll hear in the background next week is Tony Holland turning in his grave.

* The Best November releases - Movie of the month: American Gangster. TV show of the month: The Mighty Boosh. Book of the month: Scared To Death – Christopher Booker and Richard North. CD of the month: ‘Here We Stand’ – Cock Sparrer. (Even if they do look more like the Minty Peterson Fan Club these days.) Sparrer still write great lyrics, here's a sample from 'Last Orders': 'Four pints of lager later things went from bad to worse/ She came back from the toilet, caught me going through her purse/She said forget the taxi, you're gonna need a hearse/There's time for one last round/One tequila, two tequila, three tequila four/I knew I wasn't drunk I had a good grip on the floor/I puckered up to kiss her but she punched me in the jaw/Time for one last round.'

30/11. Hurrah! Chris Biggins won I’m A Celebrity, becoming King and Queen of the Jungle simultaneously. It was a one-horse race. Chris might not have done anything decent on telly since Porridge, but he’s jolly, friendly and up for the challenges. And in this dismal company, that was all it took. This was the worst-cast jungle series to date. The most famous ones on it were Ant, Dec and the frog in the opening titles. Obscure chefs and bossy PR women aren’t celebs. Janice was unknown to most ITV viewers, and even she ran out of steam and catchphrases this week. Although in fairness, this was the longest Janice has ever gone without a face lift. Isolated by her own rudeness, she turned out to be just another mouthy airhead baffled by simple maths. But at least she had something to say, unlike glum Gemma and deluded J with his wet monotonous voice. If all work and no play make Jack a dull boy, these two must be working round the clock. Gemma only came alive doing the reverse bungee – nothing has shot up that fast in the jungle since Peter Andre clapped eyes on Jordan.

* Jim McDonald is back, so he is. The man with the hottest temper this side of Tehran came out the slammer on Friday. Incredibly Jim took the news that his ex-wife, Liz ‘Mutton’ McDonald, has a new bloke (Mr Punch) without erupting like Vesuvius. He even pledged to steer clear of the Rovers until Liz invites him there…a promise he’s bound to stick to for several hours. Come off it, Corrie! We don’t want Jim being reasonable. We want him inflamed by Liz’s cleavage. Let him steam in and flatten Vernon. No surrender!

* Jim’s finest moments: 1) Killing Jez Quigley. 2) Bedding his son’s girlfriend Fiona; no wonder she put on weight – she’d had too many McDonalds. 3) Catching Liz at it. Jim was proud and erect as he staggered in to the house on crutches. Trouble was, so was Michael the physio, in Jim’s bed, with Jim’s wife….

29/11. Morrissey has upset the bleeding hearts of the NME by talking about the loss of our national identity. "England is a memory now," he says. "The gates are flooded and anybody can have access to England and join in." He goes on: "Although I don't have anything against people from other countries, the higher the influx into England the more the British identity disappears. So the price is enormous. Travel to England and you have no idea where you are. It matters because the British identity is very attractive. I grew up into it and I find it very quaint and amusing. Other countries have held on to their basic identity, yet it seems to me that England was thrown away. "You can't say, 'Everybody come into my house, sit on the bed, have what you like, do what you like.' It wouldn't work." He adds: "Whatever England is now, it's not what it was and it's lamentable that we've lost so much."

Cue kneejerk outrage from the wet middle class left. But there's nothing racist in what Morrissey says. Due to the state-promoted madness of multiculturalism, parts of our inner cities are now utterly alien; and the people who lose out are the English working class whose jobs, culture, history and communities are sacrificed on the altar of 'progress'. Once this only happened after a people were invaded and subjugated. Now we surrender our identity in a one-way-street of ‘understanding’. Another rock philosopher, Angry Anderson, once Kylie’s wedding singer on Neighbours, put it succinctly in his song ‘Respect’: ‘My city’s full of people I don’t understand/They have no respect for this my mother land.’

* Is Kerry Katona really a great advert for Iceland? What are they trying to say? Shop here and get as chunky as she is? And wasn’t ‘Iceland’ Brian McFadden’s nickname for her side of the bed?

27/11. On Spooks tonight, a Question Time type show was taken over by right-wing gunmen. Ridiculous. Nothing interesting happens on Question Time.

* Dogging, swinging, sex in public, web-cam sex…everything agony aunts were moaning about on Sex In The Noughties have been done by EastEnders cast members in real life. It must be like the Hellfire Club up at Elstree. They’re not just actors; they’re pioneers on the wilder shores of sexuality. Which certainly makes you look at Dot Branning in a different light.

26/11. I’ve no objection to pole-dancing on Lorraine Kelly’s morning show. As long as Lorraine Kelly isn’t doing it.

25/11. Bushell On The Box is in the Daily Star Sunday today, a bargain at 85p.

* Paulo Hewitt is in the Mail On Sunday today revealing the quite devastating truth about his ex-friend Paul Weller. One night it seems Paul gave Paulo money to get a round in and then demanded his change. Wow. What a rotter. Oh and he nearly hurt himself with a cup. What stories! What insight!

Nov 22. Marc Bannerman, you’re a spanner, man! What kind of idiot flirts like that on national TV in front of 1001 cameras and thinks he’ll get away with it? Marc’s exit interview on I’m a Celebrity last night would have made Larry David cringe. His face when he realised how much of the chemistry between him and Cerys had been caught on camera, the desperate looks to where girlfriend Sarah would have been if she hadn’t already flown home in disgust, the conflicting emotions: confusion guilt, shock, panic …it was all cruelly hilarious. Apologies and excuses followed. He was “craving love,” he said. What, after eleven days? Later he confessed he’d fallen for Cerys, ruining his chances of make-up sex with the missus entirely. “Marc has left a big hole,” confided Anna tonight. Make of that what you will...

Bannerman’s eviction coincided with the piss-poor England game, leaving a mainly hormonal, female audience to vote. It gave underachieving non-celebrity Katie Hopkins an undeserved extra day in camp, and diverted us temporarily from the show’s main action: the clash of monster egos between Lynne, John and Janice. John (Victor Mildew) is a human volcano, teetering on the edge of eruption/mental breakdown. Lynne is full of more crap than a blocked up sewer pipe. She’s bossy, big-headed and barking. All that mystic mumbo-jumbo…Odin save us! Mercifully, even the combined power of Mother Earth, the universe, Zen Buddhism, the Navaho Indians and her own "higher self" won’t save Lynne from getting the boot soon. Rodney should tell her to take that pole out of her arse. And let Gemma dance on it.

Janice (“oh man!”) is still hilarious. She doesn’t wear a bra, she said: “Why should I? I paid good money for these puppies.” Are we sure Biggins is gay by the way? He’s squeezing more boobs than Trinny and Tranny. The rest are dull. Gemma works better in 2D. J is one big Zzzz. And as for Anna Ryder Richardson, Anna Why's-she-here Richardson more like. She's only gone to Australia to see her career go down the plug-hole in the opposite direction. Cerys, officially the whitest pop star since Michael Jackson, has lost her chance of victory. I’m swinging behind Rodney Marsh but fear that only the Fred boys could have beaten Biggins. Can’t the scorpion that stung Lynne win?

* Odd isn’t it, Lynne thinks she’s a Red Indian but Gemma’s the one we want to be Running Bear.

* Some good news for Steve Mclaren: no-one wants to steal his identity...

Nov 21. What a pile of crap England were tonight. England’s first-half performance was the most miserable 45 minutes of telly since the last Dawn French special. The difference between us and Lewis Hamilton? He'll still have a McLaren in the morning. Already the texts are coming through: 'Steve McLaren is going to the England Xmas party as a pumpkin, he's hoping someone will turn him into a ****ing coach','England to change their shirts, the three lions to be replaced by three tampons to signify the worst period we've ever been through', and best of the lot: 'McLaren has stated that tonight's result won't come as a shock. Everyone knows you can always get a group of blokes from Eastern Europe to work much harder for a lot less money...' Here's what is not funny, though - the buckets of dosh McLaren will get paid for being an even bigger failure than Sven. Talk about rubbing our noses in it.

20/11. Two computer discs jam-packed with info about children and their parent-hood have been lost…and that’s just the Ulrika Jonsson file.

The top five things Katie Hopkins looks like: 1) A Moose 2) A gnu 3) My Little Pony 4) Mr Punch in drag 5) The Princess Anne dummy on Spitting Image.

19/11. Stephen Fry won an international Emmy for his documentary on depression. If that doesn't cheer the bastard up, nothing will.

Gordon Brown offered GMTV's Fiona '****wit' Phillips a ministerial job. It gets worse. Gordon only approached Fiona after Lorraine Kelly turned him down! "Brulliant." Is this the same Brown who pledged in June that his government wouldn't be obsessed with worthless celebrity culture?

* Her Majesty the Queen and Prince Philip are celebrating 60 years of happy marriage, although according to a new documentary from RDF they divorced in 1992.

18/11. I’m A Celebrity needs Janice Dickinson like Lynne Franks needs stomach staples. She’s gold-dust. Yes she’s hateful, self-centred and cosmetically terrifying – Janice has Steve Tyler’s face and the body of a zombie Iggy Pop. Even kangaroo balls shrivel in her presence. But she’s kicking life into a series that’s been badly miscast. (Anna, Jason, John…they’re like a Who’s Who of Why Them?) So far, Janice has revealed that Malcolm McLaren “smells of dirty farts”, branded John Burton Rice “gay” for eating a crocodile’s penis and called Lynne “a shrew”. Her one-liners are a joy. Especially “I’m a supermodel, I haven’t eaten for years” and “I can’t eat croc dick, are you insane?” Best of all she clashes constantly with puffed-up nobody Lynne Franks, a rancorous old sow who could suck the joy out of a Cup Final. Dreary Lynne is one of those whinging feminists who feel duty bound to lecture anyone who disagrees with her. She herds up the gullible for absurd chanting sessions (“Why can’t she keep her chanting to herself?” asked Janice reasonably.) Her dance moves make Garraway look good. She “needs space.” Well, she would with an arse that wide. OK, Janice bottled it on Thursday night, but that was compensated for by the arrival of Biggins, who, in this company, seems like a showbiz giant. The other blokes aren’t much cop. There’s John: obscure TV chef, looks like a slightly younger Victor Meldrew. Marc: soap dimwit; doesn’t seem to realise that flirting with Cerys Matthews might wind up his girlfriend. (We know he’s not acting, we saw him in EastEnders.) Jason J Bland: got his wimpy arse wupped by Cerys. Rodney Marsh: part Peter Pan, part Billy Liar, all arse. Anyone remember him taking “a penalty at Wembley in front of 100,000 people”? Thought not. Elsewhere disappointments abound. There’s no sign of the Right Said Fred boys. (Or did ITV mean something else when said they’d booked a couple of Fairbrasses for the show?) Dull Gemma has yet to stand under a shower in a tight white bikini. And Anna Ryder Richardson’s a waste of space who should Ryder the first plane home. Katie’s good value, but since when does not winning a BBC2 reality show make you a celebrity? Sweet, talented Cerys looks the likeliest winner. (For the rest of Bushell On The Box see the Daily Star Sunday today).

* Memo to Iceland: orange profiteroles? Are you sure?

17 Nov. Kate Garraway is useless isn't she? If she were a topless dancer she'd have two left tits.

15 Nov. The Mighty Boosh is back for a third series and it's brilliant. I love this show, it's weird, it's silly, it's more off the wall than a ten year old squash ball and crucially it's very funny. If Spike Milligan, Syd Barrett and Salvador Dali were all young and writing comedy while ingesting magic mushrooms it would probably end up like this. Highlights of episode one included that psychotic Dickensian Cockney villain threatening Howard with his eels, the cosmic stag trip and Howard getting used and abused by a sex-mad widow who pounded him "like yesterday's beef." Vince should go on Dragon’s Den with that celebrity radar kit. (Especially if it means Deborah Meaden then gets sucked into a psychotic Cockney’s hat.) All together: We are super magic men, we stay up till 5am…

* Nice Ant & Dec exchange after the Bushtucker trial. Dec: “Those cold dead eyes, that dry wizened penis…” Ant: “That’s no way to talk about John.”

14 Nov. New misery on DeadEnders as geriatric football hooligans smashed up the Vic. It was farcical. Ronni fought one off by flapping her hands at him as if she was doing doggy paddle. Mickey Miller became so squeaky only Joe Pasquale could hear him. (The poor sod, they've made him gutless as well as sexless). While one of the thugs, Bird (short for bird-brain) had to cheek to call the locals “Dads Army” even though most of his mob (Saddoes Army) were older. The only ICF they’d qualify for is I. C. F***wits. Why trash the pub when Jason wasn’t there? Why did no-one dial 999 on their mobiles? Why do we ever expect this soap to make sense? There’s more chance of seeing the Spice Girls in Tesco.

* A coked-up Bird causing trouble in Walford…it’s like Danniella Westbrook all over again.

13/11. Good book alert: I can heartily recommend The Mumper, a new novel by Mark Baxter and Paulo Hewitt. Set in South East London in the 1980s, The Mumper is the rib-tickling tale of seven mates and a race-horse. It’s funny, well-paced and speckled with authentic London lingo...even if the punctuation would send Lynne Truss mad(der). A small joy. (The Mumper is published by Mono Media, price £9.99; mono_media@hotmail.com).

* A man has been convicted for having sex with a bicycle. Apparently the bike said the experience wasn't all that, but the chain did come off once… Many mysteries arise from this. How do you have sex with a bike? Why is it an offence? And why would you do it? Clearly the man is either a bikesexual or a pedalphile. Unless it was just one big misunderstanding; he’d asked in the pub where he could get laid, and the barman suggested the village bike…