And he could not have been more correct and even those twenty minutes was a stretch. The two things that can really make a show like this work brilliantly is a) the host and, b) the writers. You had Peter Kay as host, one of the UK’s top comedians and yet he was let down badly by what he was given to say presentation-wise. I have to be honest and admit that Peter Kay’s appeal in the funny-stakes escapes me, I like a really dry delivery - which is what he has - but I just cannot find him funny enough to laugh at. Maybe it is because I’m not from ‘Up North’ - I have seen Micheal Parkinson almost fall out of his chair laughing at this guy, well he would wouldn’t he…?

The awards were given out to some really run-of-the-mill acts, except I guess for Lady GaGa…her stuff is starting to sound the same to me though. Unless she becomes the queen of reinvention a-la Madonna you will be hearing Poker Face type songs from her still in ten years time. Liam Gallagher - what can you say about this twat other than “grow up you imbecile”. That ‘moody, cool swaggering’ might have gone over fine when you were a young fella Liam, but now you just look like a cantankerous old twit - and as for your giggling-idiot of a wife Nicole Appleton…a has-been if ever there was a never-would-be.

The British television industry has some of the greatest comedy writers in the world - just look at Yes, Prime Minister; One Foot in the Grave; Dinnerladies…all a brilliantly varied mix of biting satire and comedic genius and yet we get productions like last night’s effort. Where are the great writers when the producers are putting these shows together! find them, use them, and get a host who can deliver the goods. And one last thing: Put Jonathon Ross out to pasture.

I’ve just watched Cheryl perform at the Brits and, yep, she performed that song once more…is anyone else out there fed up of hearing it? well - she danced and she mimed the song to be more precise, I don’t thing she has actually sung this song live anywhere since she recorded it. Even the choreography each time is the same - the usual crotch-flashing stances and unfortunately her mime ‘technique’ is not too polished. Poor girl - I just hope she does the right thing by herself and dumps that schmuck of a ball-kicker husband. She can do much better…and I reckon Simon Cowell has her on speed dial

I tuned in to the very first episode and saw that it was being hosted by Myleene Klass (turn-off number one for me…) and, surprisingly, a gardening show host Alan Titchmarsh. Myleene plays the piano and Alan tells people how to dig up weeds…then the judges. Katherine Jenkins - a pretty face that sings nicely, she is not an opera singer and has yet to prove herself to make the crossover successfully. Then the worst aspect of all - Meatloaf. Cannot stand him, never could, never will - loud-mouthed, over-bearing, over-opinionated and arrogant - and that’s just a short list of what I think of him. Laurence llewyeln Bowen - he is not a singer but seems to be the only person with any ability to appraise talent. I’ve never heard of the Italian fellow so cannot comment on him.

I tuned in for quick snatches here and there over the past weeks but decided last night to catch a semi-final and what I saw just amazed me. All the contestants were MIMING! I have seen enough live opera performed to know what a singer looks like physically when they sing those arduous arias, they are like mammoth exercises in endurance and I did not see one single diaphram move in any of those songs. The most blatant of this was the ‘performance’ by Darius Campbell; he ’sang’ the famous Champagne Aria from Don Giovanni ‘Fin ch’han dal vino ‘. The most amazing aspect of this is that he managed it without his larynx moving at all ( a dead give-away where men are concerned…), and not being one tiny bit out of breath at the finish despite completing choreographed movements throughout the piece. I have seen the great Samuel Ramey perform this aria and if HE has a heaving chest at the last note then Darius could at least have looked as though he had raised a bead of sweat! this brought out some morbid curiosity in me so I decided to watch the following contestants to see if they too were faking it. And they were. Bernie Nolan’s ribcage never moved, neither did Marcella Detroit’s although they certainly outdid themselves with excessive facial expressions and contorted throat muscles…not good enough girls - it was a dead give-away.

Of course I am now belatedly hooked, watching these people fooling the public with pre-recorded efforts…surely I am not the only person to have noticed this…?

But now it is out and Cheryl is doing the predictable; she will start losing weight again while her sleazy, half-caste spouse talks her round into believing he wont do it again. He will - we know that and so does she. Dump the schmuck Cheryl.

Then you have the very entertaining case of the Terry’s - John and Toni that is. He got a French knicker-model of dodgy character and personal hygiene knocked up and then paid her to get rid of the result of his grotty infidelity. His wife, mega-WAG Toni, took advantage of the huge bank balance her marriage to this twat has afforded her and flew off for two luxurious weeks in Dubai with the kids and her parents. The relatives of these WAG’s also do very well out of these transactions - er - marriages.

John Terry took off after her and, yep you guessed it - they are reunited and more in lurve than ever. He needs the marriage to keep a half-decent image and she needs the marriage for…god, you name it! credit cards, handbags, holidays, mansions, cars, clothes, clothes, clothes…not food though - these women don’t do food…

Toni Terry, like all WAGs know which side their bread is buttered - who cares what trollops the hubby sticks it to so long as SHE gets the keys to the mansion and the land rover. Of course they now gloat that it is time for that third baby they have always wanted…yeah Toni good idea; get that third bun in the oven asap because you will need as much child maintenance as you can get from him to keep buying those handbags and holidays when he runs out of excuses the next time.

WAG’s - prostitutes with wedding rings…what a shallow, shallow lot these people are.

These days things have not changed, you still get these idiots who think it is funny - and weirdly a turn on - to send stupid and obscene messages to women only now it id done by mobile phone and commonly in the form of text messages. Text Pests you call them - ’small things amuse small minds’ as the saying goes. TV presenter Vernon Kay has been apologising in overdrive recently when he was exposed as one of these numpties by The Sun - no problems with me Vernie-baby, but I am sure your wife Tess Daly is very upset that you have been sending racy texts to a collection of bimbos over the past five years. She is, in fact, feeling rightly humiliated and betrayed and why should she not…? this couple market themselves as tv’s Golden Couple and have two young children, even though Vernon is no real catch - about as sexy as Ringo Starr - his wife must be wondering why on earth he had to behave in such an immature way.

Here’s your answer Tessie dear: he is a man. Some men - not all thank god - find this kind of thing titillating, amusing and it relieves some sort of inner-boredom they have. It is like those little boys who play knock-knock-run-run and flash-your-winkie-at-the-girls in the playground. Tess, you will have to rise above this and as you have two small children you will have to make this man of yours behave himself. You are far better than any of those plastic, flammable blow-up dolls he pleasured himself over - chin up, keep smiling…and give him absolute hell at home!