Don't Look Ethel

Something odd and unexpected has happened since the installation of our super duper, encased cables, up the wall, big screen and Sky affair.

As expected, watching football and all things associated forms a large portion of our viewing.

But that is closely followed by a surprising number of cooking programmes.

Not really your Gordon Ramsays and your Jamie Olivers.

More your Master Chef and Come Dine With Me.

Both hideous in their own ways.

Both utterly compelling.

With Master Chef, its like living a ground hog day every time the judges taste the food.

Not content with offering their wisdom within a limited vocabulary, resulting in the same or similar phrases being repeated ad nauseam, the most revolting sight imaginable has to be them tasting the food.

And yet I can't take my eyes off them.

Come Dine With Me, on the other hand, never ceases to amaze me.

I mean, I can understand the first few contestants getting involved without realising how ridiculous they would end up looking.

And yet, we all know now what it is about and it seems to be on all the time.

Celebrities. The weird and wacky. The faux-posh and the sadly deluded.

And tonight, a bunch of ex-England football players.

Frank Worthington. Someone called Razza, who walked around wearing only an apron, Fashanu and Carlton Parker (who won).

I won't go into detail - but glamorous it was not, ladies and gentlemen.