Mad for the Music 17:44

I'm totally loving this who 'Susan Boyle's a nutter' malarkey. Of course she's bloody unhinged - she went on national television dressed in a sack and sang an Andrew Lloyd-Webber song...hello!

Now her, at first charming, crush on Piers Morgan is starting to err into full-blown psychosis ("How dare he praise any other contestant. I'm the ony apple in Piers's eye"; and innocent tourists in Wembley hotels are being accosted as if by a spluttering bag-lady.

All this and yet we are promised that the producers of this kind of shite ensure 'full psychological screenings' go on...

If you leave 8 monkeys 20:56

In an edit suite long enough, they will eventually cut together the absolute truth about anyone twat enough to


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'audition' for the Apprentice

they're coming to take me away... 11:32

WTF! Please, someone??!

Britain's got Talent!!! This is care in the community and, urgently needed too.

"I want to take human sax across the world" - Listen carefully Kay: The world neither needs nor wants it. Now pipe down and take your meds.

The terrifying thing is that he's far from alone...

Bye Bye Howard boo hoo 11:13

Ole blue eyes get the boot. Yawn. Bye. What's your name again?

Though full points to the increasingly savage, genius Nick 'the Hawk' Hewer, who come boardroom panto-time, fixed ole Howie with his Crow like stare and told him: "You're not a brave warrior...you're not a big guy...are you?"

Ouch.

Howard, on the floor, his guts spilt - Suralan steps up to finish the job off - "Yes, you're a steady Eddie. You are ORDINARY"

That's gotta hurt.

Mummy... I don't want to do this anymore. I want to play with my friend who licks my face.

Unleash the hounds 10:57

This is brilliant. Twitter have been scratching their heads over how to actually earn a penny from their wildly successful (and mindlessly tedious) invention. Finally they have come up with the solution - Celebrity hunting.

Cue legions of celebs craping it and suddenly 'don't want to play anymore'. Obviously they are happy to share every detail of their achingly naff lives with legions of adoring twits, but remove that fourth wall and they all run for the hills...

"I don't want to be stalked" says king twit Ashton Kutcher ("I do, please, stalk me, stalk me", says Aisleyne Horgan-Wallace). No, but you don't mind stalking cyberspace with your endlessly trivial musings do you Ashton? You don't consider how the rest of us have to endure your witterings as a kind of infinite Chinese water torture, do you eh? Now shut up and be stalked...

Twitter describes their new 'top secret' project as being about "putting ordinary people on the trail of celebrities" - great. But then again, what sort of empty, vacuous, zero-self esteem idiot actually wants to be put on the trail of Demi Moore, Britney spears or Stephen bloody Fry?

I say throw a few high-grade weapons into the mix and let them all stalk each other...last man standing style.

Yeah Momma, I'd sure watch that.

It's Not My Fault Officer 17:49

It's all soooo grubby isn't it?

"I shouldn't drive babe"

"Go home Dane, before the paps turn up...They snap you here and Pete really will go apeshit"

"Is that it? I'm all worked up now"

"Thanks for the wine. Was it really 3 for a tenner?"

"I'll give you 3 for a tenner!"

"Go!

I'll call you...Cheeky!"

Real Soul 16:44

This guy, and then his kid, really mean what they are doing here. I mean, they totally feel it.
A rare, rare, rare, rare, rare, rare, rare reality moment. Dix Points.

Say no more 18:31

Reality TV: Pitch 1 17:07

Commissioner: I want something edgy... something with kids and parents - you know, the kids with knives, parents on the edge. Think Brat Camp meets War on Terror...

Producer: Ok. So therapy... extreme therapy?

Commissioner: Yeah, extreme therapy - sod Supernanny, what's really gonna push things along...

Producer: Well you know they're closing down Guantanamo?

Commissioner: Of course! Can you get access?

Producer: Well we almost got Gringo Express away with them last year... Geneva shit killed it.

Ok... so how about we send these off the rails kids and their waster parents to Guantanamo...

Commissioner: I like it. Where's the jeopardy...

Producer: So the kid smokes - we waterboard him until he quits. Another kid has a weight problem - well there's a purpose built exercise yard, let the porker sweat. Attitude issues, hell, let's get em naked and pile them on top of each other - if it worked for the military, it'll work for TV.

Leave them all there 6 weeks - then we finish show with a kangaroo court made up of mums and dads - winners get to go home, losers... well that's 2nd series.

Commissioner: Ah shit - I've just found out BBC Three commissioned this stinking heap of...

Darwin was wrong 15:28

Ok, so news that Paris Hilton is looking for godparents which is no biggie - she's accepted enough sperm donors to make her a bonafide charitable organisation, so its odds on that she'll be spitting out some hideous offspring before long, so why not get in early.

According to wikipedia:

"The modern view of a godparent tends to be an individual chosen by the parents to take an interest in the child's upbringing and personal development."

Hmm. So first off this kid is going to grow up with mummy Paris, (no dad - he'll be shagging an Olsen by then) and sharing cot space with a mangy handbag sized dog called Pootsie, whilst developing early onset epilepsy from endless flash photography.

As if that's not enough to cripple the poor bag of bones, it's going to get sex-ed from the Hilton family home videos and then 'personal development' from posh and becks.

Survival of the fittest? Looks like we just proved Darwin wrong...

Mine's a Cinzano, Get Me Out of Here! 10:55

Gazza's signed up for I'm A Celebrity.

The show's an Medieval-style visit 'to see the lunatics' at the best of times, but this takes the amaretto biscuit. How long before his thirst gets the better of him and we see the first 'escape from the jungle'? Bets please.

Still, it's nice to see he's learned his lesson after seeing the pain and anguish his utterly tedious, self-obsessed drinking has brought to his family via a documentary earlier this year. Nice to see he's reflected and taken a fierce moral inventory. Nice to see how he realises how, for some people like himself, booze really is something to be avoided - certainly not glamorised...

I know I've seen Debra somewhere before... 00:39

Oh yeah. Watch out for those umbrellas Margaret...

Extra Skinny latte please... 23:20

...oh, go on then, and just a little bit of cream...and some of them chocolate sprinkles...and a bit of that caramel swirl...and some cream. More cream. More.

This one slipped through the net:

Britain's Next Top Model announce a 'twist' this series. One of the contestants is anorexic.

Who's doing press here? What idiot producer came up with that one? We all now that the only real 'twist' would be that one of them isn't anorexic.

(Mean bit: that must be a very old photo. In the good old eclair days, eh Jade? The Twix, Topic, Picnic days, yeah?)

Your name is BEN 23:03

Moner Lisa 22:41

So Mona's out...

Not that it makes much difference, they should all be fired simultaneously in episode one and then we get to spend the remainder of the series watching Margaret and Nick snogging and feeling.

But folks, let's not forget that this is our hard earned tax-money paying for this crap. Let's re-cap:

Suralan is looking for a new recruit for his mega-empire - a future captain of industry...so far, so clear. We all need future captains of industry, right? So this is the show where we get to see the finest of the fine slug it out to win such a coveted, socially responsible position yeah? We are witnessing tomorrow's leaders showing us how they will guide us through the thorny, mine-laden globalised future, uhuh? We get to sit on our worn IKEA sofas and stare at these 'gifted' leaders showing us their superior skills, dig?

But let's look a little closer: This evening's task asked the groups to demonstrate their marketing skills by 're branding' Margate.

Team Ignite chose the family angle. Empire went for the gays amongst us. This was Empire's poster...

And they were bemused when they lost.

And we are bemused we are in the midst of a reccesion.

Golden age of cinema? 22:40

So it turns out that Lindsay 'why am i here' Lohan is set to pose as Marilyn Monroe.

For the second time.

Of course... why bother to be photographed as yourself? - I mean that's so 2008 - why not just pick a real star and play pretend. I mean that star on the Hollywood walk of fame can't be too far off. I mean she's ticking boxes, she just picked up the wrong form...

APPLICATION FOR HOLLYWOOD STAR - requirements:

1. Are you a good actor? Y/N
2. Have you made important films Y/N
3. Do you inspire others? Y/N

APPLICATION FOR FAME HUNGRY WANNABE - requirements:

1. Have you shagged Calum Best? Y/N
2. Would you flash your minge outside a club? Y/N
3. Have you starred in a Herbie movie? Y/N

Ahh, so easy to pick up the wrong piece of paper...

The Hills - a recipe 12:20

Ingredients:
9 x very blonde, very shallow spoilt princesses
9 x overly pumped, gym-junkie misogynist males (preferably closeted homosexuals)
A handfull of fresh blackberrys
Staggeringly OTT 'how the hell can they afford that'-type houses in the Hollywood hills - to taste
Ditto luxury motors with obligatory blacked-out windows - to taste
A bunch of stupid hair
500g of magazine offices desperate for exposure (for a crunchy topping of exploitative 'internships')
4 tonnes of brand-placement accessories
A scattering of low intelligence
3/4oz world-view that the only thing that exists in the world is 'Jordan breaking up with Lauren / Spencer being mean to Heidi / Whitney stealing Lauren's man is, like, totally mean'

Instructions:
Chuck all ingredients together and leave. Intervene only to shit-stir about relationships. Do not allow conversations or footage of anything else to encroach. If it does, quickly skim off the surface and discard.
Stir slowly and leave to simmer.
When at least half of the cast have entered rehab / been arrested for drink-driving / developed serious eating disorders / run home to mummy and daddy it is ready.

Our work here is done 11:10

Thanks to this knob: full of hot air and pointless - the (just now elected) patron-saint of reality TV:

Mr Methane - Britain's Got Talent

Surviving Aisleyne 10:53

Remember Aisleyne Horgan-Wallace? Nope? Big Brother, ages ago, big tits, three-inch thick lip-gloss ...Still nothing?

Well hold your breath because the 'star' is set to infect our screens once again. ‘Playing herself’, once again. Some desperate TV production company have shelled out the 5 English pence needed to secure the rights to adapt her preposterous autobiography into television. Christ help us. At least Kerry loses it every hour or so and invites us to enjoy. This chick is emptier than a Darius Danesh gig. Her book is called Aisleyne: Surviving guns, gangs and glamour - 'surviving glamour'??? More like symbolising glamour (in the page 3 sense of the word) by getting her baps out at every possible occasion and for every possible lad's mag photo-shoot.

Now, 'surviving guns' - that's more like it. Can I suggest that the producers focus more on that element of her tome and we get to watch this pointless screen invader being stalked across the moors of Scotland by a posse of expert marksmen, each bound by the format to discharge at least one magazine an episode. If Aisleyne survives (highly unlikely) then she's moved directly to the favelas of Brazil where she must dress up in the colours of the area’s rival gang and...Survive.

Money well spent? 17:29

Just when you think the barrel has been scraped dry, BBC Three bring you this pile of stinking dross. I just hope they all caught swine flu.

Preposterously over-confident Apprentice moment #11234 00:26

Sexy Lorraine, selling the flabbergastingly stupid ‘cat box’ (“I throw away cardboard boxes every day”, small pet-shop owner – “but this one’s a spitfire”, juicy Lorraine) to a single, independent hardware store on the edge of Liverpool: When asked how many units she’d hope they might take she, and without a trace of irony, retorted –

“5000”.

A quick calculation by the owner – “So you think we’d shift 400 of these a week…through this single store?” – “Yes”, a sincere, tell me your problems, gorgeous Lorraine, “yes, I believe you could easily shift 400 a week”.

Cue jaw hitting table, hand banging head involuntarily…

Pants man goes 00:18

Thank the Gods of reality for that one. So, Phillip, aka ‘the missing link’ gets the boot. It couldn’t happen to a nicer bloke. Having spent 7 weeks bullying, snideing, moaning and generally wasting his obsessively won 15 minutes, it all came down to one thing: Suralan: “Phillip, your attitude won’t sit in my organisation”. Phillip, gracious to the end, huffed out of the boardroom muttering ‘joke’. No shit Phil, you are – and now everyone that you meet back at the pokey estate agents, somewhere far away in the North East, will think so too – which means you’ll have to throw in more extras, more ‘gold look’ door handles, more white appliances, to bag a sale. Ha bloody ha.

Who is this guy? 00:16

WTF? Scholarship to Sandhurst? Give me a break. Did you go mate? No? Oh right, chose to humilate yourself on national TV instead. Not sure the army missed out, badger faced tit.

Why? 23:59

Reality TV. Unreality more like. A whole generation raised to believe that fame is a career path, that celebrity is something to aspire to and screw the consequences. Hordes of them, desperate for their fleeting moment in the spotlight, desperate to be ‘picked’, ’seen’ or ’spotted’.

Britain’s Got Talent? What talent? A talent for exhibitionism and a lack of any discernible self-awareness? Sure.

Evictions. Nominations. Kiss n Tells. Celebrity Dog walking for pete's sake.

Life is formatted, produced, directed, streamed.

What will our generation’s epitaph read?

RIP – You Never Lived.