Who Knew?

A week of revelation on the gogglebox.

Lady Mary, whom I hugely enjoy hating, has finally got some comeuppance. This youngest and prettiest of all the Evil Cows on Downton Abbey permitted a Foreigner first into her bedroom and then into her back bottom, and was hideously punished for this crime against her class - and her arse - by his prompt and irreversible death.

On the one hand, this is most pleasing. Lady Mary was thoroughly taken down a peg or two. On the other, it points to buttocks of amazing, not to say supernatural, power. Who may attempt to make Lady Mary next his sex toy and yet " a virgin for her husband" and what will become of them? Does her fatal bottom employ its mighty power only against foreigners, as her family's perky xenophobia might lead one to suspect? Or is it against all comers? And is it only her back bottom, or must Lady Mary's husband take on a virginity which must surely end his bridal night in Death? It is all a very jolly speculation. Matthew, the drippy heir apparent, looks like the likely next suitor, but he is too wringing a wet blanket to attempt either extra marital or anal activities with anybody, and may thus bury them all...

And then, in the Apprentice, somebody with a proper London accent survived the Boardroom. Lord Sugar picked on somebody a bit quiet for the boot, and over on "You're Fired" the delightful Dara O'Brain more than made up for Adrian Chiles, and Jack Whitehall restrained himself from being a complete nobdollop and was really quite amusing. A week of wonders, indeed.

Viva Lucinda!

Time for all good chaps to stand up and say, hurrah that Lucinda won't be Surulun's Apprentice!

We are all too prone to wish for our favourite characters to "win" on tv contest shows, but the truth about The Apprentice is that the prize is one anybody with the full complement of marbles would pay good money to avoid.

Work in a shabby office in Brentwood? With a grumpy little scratchy faced gremlin shouting and harumphing at you? Having to wear ugly clothes and have people say horrible personal remarks to you? For a salary cut? Why would Lucinda want any such prize? Why would anybody?

This probably accounts for the overall repulsiveness of the candidates on the show. Anybody who would want to work in such conditions is clearly wanting in either imagination or common sense - and neither type is somebody you'd miss much down the pub. Or in the office, come to that. Lucinda was too polite and too clever and too amusingly dressed to be part of the gruff little gremlin's business empire. I wish her well, and couldn't combine that with wishing her Viglen. Two of the remaining candidates are quite hideous in terms of morals and manners, and they richly deserve it. They are also eye-poppingly incompetent and cannot identify good practice when they see it. Quick! to Brentwood with them!

All good people say amen.


NEVER FORGET

I just accidentally caught Take That in concert on T4. It was amazing. Gary Barlow sounds exactly like a Alex from A Clockwork Orange - it's like the character has been reincarnated as a Butlin's Redcoat. And I have never seen four people work so hard in my life. Mr Barlow is nearly not a Suet Pudding Boy any longer; though Mark Owen can still find an inch to pinch, it is on Mr Barlow's bum, where anybody should be a bit squodgy.

Jason Orange and Howard did pole-dancing, which was frankly terrifying. It explained exactly why no woman frequents such clubs, as did the remainder of the number where the ladies wore the silver jackets (though disappointingly not the trowsis) and the lads did the lap dancing. Any man opening a club for the ladies' market runs the risks of instance arrest for what looks like some sort of shape-up-and-sexually-harass to music class.

Then they all stood on a piano and made the audience sing, Gary Barlow terrifying people into acquiescence with his bizarre Malcolm McDowall channelling and Howard skipping about like a loose-limbed 6 and a half foot puppet. He's the scariest one to have on your lap.

Gutted I didn't go now.