Read on for Ally's random TV irritations and thoughts on Gemma Collins in the I'm A Celeb jungle
FOUR episodes into ITV's new hidden camera show, Celebrity Sabotage, it's impossible to disagree with GK Barry's verdict on Joel Dommett running down a corridor dressed as an armchair.
"This is the saddest thing I've ever watched.
"The lowest point of Joel's career."
And Joel, remember, is a man who was once conned into performing a "solo sex act" on the internet and worse still, a guest slot on Late Night Lycett.
Neither, however, comes close to the levels of humiliation involved with starring on Celebrity Sabotage, which is one of those very rare TV enterprises where I can put an exact number on how many people are enjoying the show.
It's four.
I can name them as well. They are: Joel, GK Barry, Judi Love and Sam Thompson, the "elite team of celebrity saboteurs" who are joined, every week, by a fifth celebrity who's a bit more restrained/horrified about what's going on here.
The nuts of it is, though, every episode, half a dozen members of the public are lured to a mansion in the full expectation they are taking part in a challenge show, which comes with a famous guest host, familiar format and a convincing-sounding name, like The Applicant, Couple Goals and SOS: Survive Or Surrender.
Reality is, though, they are simply there to be pranked by the celebs, who are either coordinating the hits from Mission HQ, deep inside the mansion, or physically taking part in them, wearing various levels of disguise.
To this sorry end and with a prize fund of "up to £30,000" at stake: GK Barry bursts a contestant's exercise balloon with a long needle. Sam Thompson flings fake bird poo over The Applicant contestants, from the mansion's roof.
And two Survive Or Surrenders hopefuls have their tent flattened, in the dead of night, by Joel Dommett and GK Barry dressed as fecking badgers.
It doesn't sound much like entertainment, does it?
And believe me, it's not.
The gleeful Celebrity Saboteurs will take some convincing, though, as they almost prolapse themselves laughing, at every stunt and, according to Sam Thompson, are: "Legends." It makes for a slightly uncomfortable watch, as you can imagine but, like so many of TV's lamest shows, Celebrity Sabotage tells us far more about the participants than they would almost certainly like us to know.
Jason "Foxy" Fox, host of the fake Survive Or Surrender strand, for instance, could not hide his utter disdain for Sam Thompson who tried to hug the SBS legend when they were reunited halfway through the episode.
"Didn't we have fun last time you saw me on the SAS show?" said Sam.
"No," replied Foxy who -- well aware there's no escape from his leg-humping attentions if you give Sam an ounce of encouragement -- pushed him aside with a satisfying degree of brutality.
Personal highlight of the series, however, was definitely watching the blood drain from Jo Brand's sanctimonious face as episode one's guest saboteur realised she'd signed up for the worst show of the decade and for all her socialist posturing, over the years, was now being paid very handsomely to humiliate members of the public.
The end for Jo, really couldn't come soon enough.
It's a whole hour, though, before the Saboteurs' big reveal, where the contestants seem happy enough to discover they'll be sharing a prize fund but mystified as to why everyone went to all this trouble.
So am I, frankly, as Celebrity Sabotage is a chore to watch and its only real achievement seems to be serving as a re- minder as to just how much ITV now loathes and misjudges its own audience.
Celebrity Sabotage hasn't even reached its saddest moment of the series either.
That arrives tomorrow night when Harry Redknapp, feebly disguised as a sound engineer on a fake dog show called The Perfect Pooch, is asked
"How are you feeling about all this?" by Joel Dommett.
"It feels a long way from managing Tottenham Hotspur," he replies mournfully.
But it's possibly much closer than you think, Harry.
SUCKS LIFE OUT JUNGLE
ITV hosts Ant & Dec prompted the most obvious jibe of the series when they said that I'm A Celeb: South Africa would deliver: "The big five."
"Penis, testicle, anus, vagina . . ."
And Gemma Collins, whose pratfalls and melodramatics have put almost everyone and everything in the shade, including the sunrise out in the beautiful Blyde River Canyon setting.
For she is the self-styled "modern-day Suffragette" who crumbles noisily in the face of anything more challenging than her own air fryer, which has been "sucking the air out of my kitchen". And will continue to do so, if the owner eats more than eight chickens in one sitting.
As well as the trials, which the selfish old boot flunks on a fairly regular basis, it's the show's fixtures and fittings that are currently causing the real meltdowns, though.
Specifically, the bedding.
On Monday, she was upended, in fairly unforgettable style, by one of the hammocks, in main camp.
But before that, Gemma claimed Savannah Scrubs' wooden beds could lead to "back surgery" and possibly even death on account of this extraordinary boast: "My pillows come from The Savoy, in London."
As will her mattress, if the complacent sods ever get round to doing a "Titan Plus, orthopaedic range".
Pray for Gemma.
OVER on EastEnders, Gina Knight mourned the passing of a famous resident by claiming she still "cannot look at a banana without seeing Martin Fowler's face".
Which is odd, because I can't see a maris piper without grumbling, "Hello, Phil", or a burst nectarine without shouting: "YOU AIN'T MY MUVVER!" Do readers have any fruit and veg that reminds them of a soap character
Actually, don't bother. I just needed 78 words to fill the column. It's done.
TV GOLD
CHANNEL 4's 24 Hours In Police Custody delivering long-overdue justice with the words: "You're done, mate."
The camera crews and production team behind BBC1's Race Across The World delivering something beautiful out of panic-stricken chaos.
Nicola Sturgeon desperately trying not to take offence with The Assembly audience member, on ITV, who told her: "Your face and hair looks a bit like Mrs Doubtfire."
And the eternally miserable and pious EastEnders actually acknowledging there is a darkly funny side to Alzheimer's as poor old Nigel, played by the superb Paul Bradley has started mistaking Nicola Mitchell for Sharon Stone and congratulating on her performance in Basic Instinct.
A positive development, so long as he doesn't veer off on a Last Tango In Paris direction, with Phil and Sharon.
Lookalike of the week
THIS week's winner is Green Party snake-oil salesman Zack Polanski, who looks set to Hoover up the naive imbecile vote at May's local elections, and Tow Mater from Disney's Car franchise. Sent in by Irene Torrance, of East Kilbride.
GREAT lies and delusions of the month.
Miriam Margolyes Made Me Me: "I so much don't want to be just a farty, foul-mouthed old lady, 'cos I'm more than that. I always thought I was perfect and smooth and clever and witty, brave and maybe I am all those things." But let's just go with "farty, foul-mouthed old lady", right, for now.
INCIDENTALLY, Factoid Of The Week was supplied by Miriam, during Miriam Margolyes Made Me Me, where she claimed: "The Hindi name for a c*** is Yoni."
And not, as I thought, Nish Kumar.
SHOCK of the week? Sky History, Sex Lives Of The Tyrants: "One of Saddam Hussein's favourite pastimes was donning a cowboy hat, supping whisky, and smoking his favourite Havana cigar, while watching torture to the musical accompaniment of a Frank Sinatra song . . ."
Ain't That A Kick In The Head? I've Got You Under My Skin? I Get A Kick Out Of You?
No.
"Strangers In The Night," the sick, twisted, illogical monster.
