Heston's Gothic Horror Feast (Channel 4)

What sort of horrendous accident befell Heston Blumenthal to turn him into such a pretentious twat? To call a man misguided who attempted to serve snail porridge to truckers and cooks everything with a side order of liquid nitrogen would be kind. So I wont bother. Heston’s Gothic Horror Feast opened with the conceited, self important chef announcing ‘I’m Heston Blumenthal and I run one of the best restaurants in the world’. I suppose if you want bacon and egg ice cream and a visit to your local A&E department after devouring a slice of salmonella on toast, then it probably is.

The show’s format was a tad strange to say the least, part history lecture and part Ready Steady Cook set in Broadmoor. We were treated to little snippets of background information on Dracula, Frankenstein and the Marquis de Sade, to presumably set the meal in context, whilst Blumenthal himself appeared to alternate between being Adam Hart Davis and a culinary Vincent Van Gough, although not quite as sane. The commentary was underpinned by the subtext of the chef asserting he was an evil genius. He may have just as well said ‘I’m a mad bastard’. No one would have disagreed.

‘I want to use all my creative and scientific skills and terrify my guests’ proclaimed Dr Bunsen from the Muppets, just before he served up blood risotto and a coffin full of tits to Nicholas Parsons and Ulrika Johnson. He was also kind enough to re-create a gothic dungeon for them to sit in whilst they ate dinner, presumably this design was based on the toilets in the Little Chef.

First up on the menu was an Amuse Bouche. Anyone even contemplating serving something this stomach churningly pretentious and affected deserves a similar fate to Vlad the Impaler’s victims, and yes I do mean a sharp pointy stick up the arse. This course was basically a fucked about with gin and tonic, potent enough to get everyone so pissed that they didn’t give a rats chuff what the hell they were eating afterwards.

Next up Dr Bunsen visited Transylvania in the ‘educational’ precursor to the starter, where he learns about pigs blood and leeches, and declared ‘I guess he was called the Impaler because he did some some pretty unpleasant things to people’. You don’t say. After fucking about with leeches for half an hour he decided they tasted vile and wasn’t going to serve them after all. Instead, the guests received a mouth watering dish of spelt, blood and snails deep fried and served on a very large cocktail stick with a cross on top, just to keep in with the Gothic theme of course.

The main course was Dr Frankenstein’s monster, based on a medieval recipe of eel and pig pie. But being an ostentatious prick, Heston lays out a skeleton, sticks some beef in the ribs, brains in the skull and a marrowbone/foam concoction down the spine. The sauce was wheeled on in a drip, and the guests said it was delicious. Dickheads.

In a fuck you fairytale ending, Blumenthal served his diners their own edible graves, complete with personalised coffins made out of marzipan and pistachio ice cream, and a death tarot card made out of white chocolate. He disturbingly sawed a Barbie in half so he could fill her breasts with pink chocolate and then put them in the coffin, garnished with raspberry ripple nipples. This was because the Marquis de Sade liked tits. And cakes. Apparently. Yes Heston, because tits and cakes is what the Marquis de Sade is well known for.

I’m A Celebrity…. Get Me Out Of Here (ITV1 nightly)

Well its that time of year again and the annual zelebrity desperado’s have been duly catapulted into the Australian jungle to poorly re-enact their own version of Lord of the Flies. This years collection of hideous self promoters include former London Mayoral candidate and gay ex copper Brian Paddick, Mr Sulu from Star Trek, a page 3 girl and WAG that no one had heard of, and some boring twonk that used to be in the ever dreary boy band Blue. They are joined by ex Eastender Joe Swash, 9 times Wimbledon winner Martina Navratilova and ex half of Dollar, David Van Day, who has had so much plastic surgery he now resembles Michael Myers from the Halloween films.

Doomed to a fortnight of munching kangaroo testicles and crocodile anuses whilst being covered in more ticks than you would find in a the collective worlds tramps pants, the zelebs sit and bitch around an open fire letting spiders crawl through their hair whilst they sleep. Nice. Do the zelebs really expect us to believe that they are on this show because they are trying to conquer their fears? Im thinking cognitive behavioural therapy would be lot less costly in terms of embarrassment. But of course theyre not doing it for that reason.

Robert ‘Failed MP’ Kilroy Silk was sick of getting buckets of slurry chucked over him and both Timmy ‘Itsy bitsy teeny weeny annoying little scrotey penis’ Mallett and Esther ‘Gnashers’ Rantzen havent presented anything for years. It is enthralling however, to watch them and discover what utter toss bags these people really are.

Take Brian Paddick. Please. To call this guy insipid would be an insult to Dannii Minogue. Just a word of advice here mate, waving your tackle about in the jungle will not make you more appear more interesting or remotely edgy. Ive seen Handy Andy talk to more exciting pieces of MDF on Changing Rooms. Ex copper, ex Mayoral candidate, and by the end of this hopefully ex celebrity. He does look good for 50 though.

Especially when you compare him to Michael Myers lookalike David Van Day who is the same age. Ex singer, ex burger flipper and even worse (could it be any worse) ex Tory candidate, may I just give my wholehearted congratulations to the very discerning and intelligent people of Brighton for not electing that self serving shitclown. You would think that he would get sick of being voted off reality shows for being a total fucknut but obviously the guy is a glutton for punishment. Being scared of water, the dark and certain failure does not give him the right to behave like a coked up Josef Goebbels on a Centre Parks mini break.

England v Kazakhstan ITV1

After the superb 4-1 win over Croatia, I settled down to watch the match v Kazakhstan yesterday, full of optimism and hoping for a repeat performance of that almost stylish, free flowing football and seeing our lads working as a proper team. What I was hoping to see actually bore no resemblance to the piss poor game that actually appeared on my tv screen. In the first half, England looked slightly less cohesive than the twin towers stuck back together with a Pritt stick.

What was Fabio Cappello thinking when selecting his side of utter donkeys? Matthew Upson for gods sake? I am absolutely positive that Julian Clary would have turned in a more solid performance. Upson must have thought he was playing for the rugby team (or maybe the Harlem Globe trotters) as he appeared to attempt to head or kick the ball over the goal and out of the stadium through the roof at every possible opportunity. The fecking idiot. And while Im at it maybe someone would like to have a word in Emile Heskeys shell-like and inform him its a better idea to kick the ball past the defenders rather than into them. Its not as if hes the bionic man and the sheer force of his kick would send the opposing player + ball right into the back of the net now is it?

Does anyone else think Fabio Cappello looks like Tommy Cooper? Look lads, I want you to play just like that......... Ok, either him or Postman Pat then, I cant decide. Or Velma from Scooby Doo. Or one of the muppets. No sorry that would be the England team. Heres a tip for you mate, next time play Rio and Theo and 9 buckets of shit on wheels. The buckets of shit will be better value in terms of money and performance I can assure you.

The second half was a different story and England did manage to score 5 goals, however, lets remember we werent playing Brazil, but 11 part time goatherding Borats. The teams obviously liked eachother though as they scored a goal for us and then Ashley Cole kindly returned the favour by floating a wonderful cross right past David James and letting one of the Borats tap it in. Beautiful. What next, swapping summer houses? I was quite impressed with Kazakhstans goalkeeper though, particularly in the way that he sported his Pat Sharpe Appreciation Mullet, very nice indeed.

ITV's coverage of the whole event was absolutely cringe inducing, mainly because of the incessant ad breaks and skin crawling commentary from David Pleat and Clive Tyldsley. To be honest David Platt and Ivy Tilsey from Coronation Street would have provided a more comprehensive and coherent interpretation of the match. At one point Emile Heskey missed the goal, SHOCKER, and divvy Dave said, dont worry he missed that! Err, hello? You do know that he was supposed to score right? Dopey shitclowns.

Silent Witness - Safe - Parts 1 & 2 BBC1

The silent witness series has been fairly hit and miss over the years, but after having watched the two part story Safe, I was compelled to write about it. This was perhaps one of the most moving and also depressing dramas I have seen for some time. It centred around the black youth gang culture of South East London and documented the violent and senseless way in which teenagers and even children risk their lives for drugs, cash and kudos.

The entire production was faultless and the acting exceptional, particularly from the young boys who played Levi and Keenan. Having lived and worked in East London I was more than familiar with many of the themes covered and have indeed witnessed street fights and stabbing of black teenagers outside my place of work. It is a hideous and terrifying sight that I would not wish another human being to have to suffer or view. Ever.

I am sure that the BBC carefully researched all the facts, however some elements of todays gang culture that were highlighted in the show, I had no idea about and found extremely disturbing. Apparently one of the initiation rituals to join these ’crews’ was the gang rape of underage girls who wished to be accepted by the group. Can this really be true? Why would the girls go through that in order to join and how could the rapists think it was acceptable as an initiation test? The whole thing made me sick to my stomach.

To those who work with them, it is well known how cheaply some teenagers value life, and that ‘shanking’ is common in many areas of London now, particularly the South East and East End. In fact I have spoken to many young black kids before, who pretty much confirmed the accuracy of what was shown in silent witness tonight.

The police are viewed with deep distrust and suspicion and to be quite honest I cant blame the black community for feeling this way towards them. I have only ever witnessed the police using their powers of stop and search on black male youths, never a white person and I have been here for over 3 years now. There have been several documentaries in recent times that have also exposed a deep rooted racism that still festers within the police force.

These episodes of silent witness encaptured the utter futility over the deaths of our youngsters and the sheer devastation it can wreak on families. Also the fear of some of the children who get caught up in gang warfare unwillingly and are unable to seek help or find a way out for themselves.

I do hope that Mr or Mrs Outraged from the Home Counties doesn’t decide to write in and complain about this outstanding two part drama though. Despite its violence and the bleak outlook it portrayed, it was a superb execution of a brilliantly written piece of social commentary that I am not ashamed to admit moved me to tears in places.

Step up to the plate (BBC1 weekdays)

Interesting concept here, I am wondering what was going on at the BBC when they decided to commission this one. The format is pretty simple, on one side is a shed load of bored people (usually members of the WI or students), and on the other side are two of the country's most arrogant chefs. They lock heads to do battle over who can make the tastiest dish on the menu which has been created by the desperate hopefuls, and then that stupid American twonk, Loyd Grossman proceeds to dissect the offending bill of fare with a sneer that almost expresses Hitler's attitude towards the Jews. When its time to sample the culinary disasters, he prods each dish as if he is expecting to find a severed head or rat droppings in the middle, sniffs, moans, whinges and eventually takes a bite out of something pretentious with a red wine reduction. Then he says the chefs one is the best. Shocker.

Whats really confusing about this show is the choice of Anton du Beke as presenter. Charismatic is hardly the word I would use to describe him. He pirouttes onto the set, guffaws and simpers his way through the 'what are you cooking' scenario without a shred of interest, and shouts 'Loyd will you step up to the plate' every 5 minutes. Seriously, this guy needs to foxtrot oscar pronto or stick to his dancing because watching him smarm round the studio leaving a slime trail behind him does my bloody head in. And thats not a good thing.

The chefs are a bunch of sullen bastards as well, particularly John Burton Race, who looks like someone re-arranged his face with a claw hammer. They goad the members of the WI on the opposing team into a bit of a verbal sparring match, basically telling them that they are a group of clueless old see you next Tuesdays and that they have about as much chance of winning as Anton du Beke has of developing a personality. Unfortunately theyre right. On both counts.

The Secret Millionaire (Channel 4)

Take one pompous smug wannabe paternalistic do gooder who feels guilty about having too much dosh, and add in a selection of sad, downtrodden, poor, disabled folk living on Shit Street. Mix with a few cash poor charitable souls, whos hearts are a trillion times more wealthy than Fat Cats bank account and hey presto, a patronising sloppy concoction guaranteed to make any decent human hurl all over their TV screens.

The premise of this 30 minute bag of flatulence is that a millionaire goes undercover in a poor community somewhere in the UK, lies and says theyre making a documentary about volunteering, and then proceeds to judge all the individuals they meet to decide if theyre worthy enough to receive some crumbs from his money table.

Two weeks ago, a loan shark guy who made squillions from ripping off poor people went to Manchester. On receiving his job seekers allowance, he tutted '80 quid? Id spend that on lunch', making him instantly detestable. I had to restrain myself from stabbing the set repeatedly with a breadknife in the vain hope that somehow Id get him in the eye. This week, some fat chump with 3 billion quids worth of property went to Glasgow where he cleaned out some toilets, a horses knob (grotesque viewing, Im still chucking up even now) and took some cat shit out of a bearded womans flat.

At the end of the programme, after living amongst the less fortunate, these tosspot millionaires reveal their true identity, telling those that they have deceived for the last week, that they are indeed uber priviledged, money to burn blockheads whose stone heart has been warmed by the plight and destitution they have just witnessed. Now I dont know if Channel 4 have told the participants to leave a pause longer than the bloody M1 before answering 'are you having a laugh', but the silence is excrutiatingly embarrassing.

The millionaire then proceeds to hand over a cheque, usually for between 10 and 50 grand, and the poverty stricken folk collapse in a heap of tears, hug the liar and thank him profusely. Sorry but 10 grand? Thats like me giving less than 1p to a homeless guy. The tight bastards.

X Factor, ITV1 Saturdays

Yay!! The X Factor is starting a new series tonight, fabulous!! The early stages are always the most interesting where a collection of boneheads, inbreds and delusional folk from the planet arsehole congregate in front of Simon Cowell et al to receive a fine selection of pastings. Either that or a collection of giggles and guffaws from the panel.

Lets hope that this year the public dont fall for any contestants sob stories. Im poor/someone died/the roof is caving in on my house/I only have one foot and a speech impediment but I sing like an angel. Sorry Ive heard it all before, everyone has tough times, this is a talent show not a telethon.

Also could the good people of Wales and Scotland not back performers who have less talent and personality than Rachel from Big Brother just because they hail from your country? I thank you.

This year unfortunately, the lovely Sharon Osbourne wont be a judge, which is particularly disappointing for me as she was my favourite. Eternally unpredictable she outshone the childish twitterings of Louis Walsh and the formulaic Simon 'thats the worst version I ever heard' Cowell. Quite frankly he must have heard so many bad renditions of the same songs it must be incredibly difficult to remember all the cacophonous chunderings proferred by the hopefuls over the years.

With all his squillions earnt from inflicting classics like the Mighty Morphing Power Rangers and Sinitta on the British public, you would think that Cowell would be able to do something about his bloody hair. It really does look like a brillo pad thats undergone topiary, and for crying out loud flat tops went out in the 80s. Sort it out mate and buy some conditioner. Either that or get round to my flat as I need to scrub some burnt stuff of the bottom of one of my pans.

There are 4 judges this year, Simon, Louis, Dannii Minogue, and newcomer Cheryl Cole. Lets hope she is able to keep her mind on the job rather than wondering how many tarts her husband may be shagging whilst she is touring the country judging people who are uglier, and probably smellier than a monkeys sweaty armpit.