Britain's Got Talent...Well, sometimes. Saturday, ITV1, 8.20

Don't you just love Simon Cowell and the way his cheesy TV company has us weeping, laughing and cringing every Saturday night?

What is it about the pathos, the highs, the lows, that has us so addicted? It's like a televisual form of cocaine. And who released the tear gas on the show. And in my lounge?

Damn him and his perfectly veneered canines...

Any road, this week, we saw the last auditions in which we were introduced to 'Nick Hell' who swung a bin from his earlobes and put a coat hanger through his conk, a geriatric breakdancer, (who has got more moves than teeth) and...er, Martin.

Martin looked and sounded rather like an accountant from somewhere cutting-edge like Knott End. He came along to the auditions carrying something very special in his large black box. Was it a bird? Was it a plane? No...It was light-up guitar.

Cosmic.

Martin trudged onto the stage and started to sing Queen's 'I Want To Break Free'. And for the love of Christ , the audience wanted to break free too.

If you've ever heard a cat on heat, sat on burning hot coals in the rain, you will be able to understand where Martin got his vocal inspiration.

But that wasn't all.

For the guitar solo, the guitar lit up like Blackpool Illuminations on acid. In fact the instrument had more talent than him. The irony however, was that Martin got through to the next round.

Simon was the only one to, quite rightly, buzz him. He told Martin that he was pretty rubbish but Amanda and Piers liked him.

Usually that would be the end of the matter, but Martin's biggest fan, his mother-in-law, strode onto the stage and told Simon he was very nasty. Simon's reply? Silence. AT LAST!

Have I missed something, or is this show supposed to be based on talent?

In an extended episode, we got to find out who, out of the 200 acts, would be going through to the semi-finals and I've got to say there were a few surprises.

A dancing Darth Vader, a human saxophone, an overweight drag queen who eats his own naval fluff and guess who? Martin.

He's probably got through because if he didn't, the mother-in-law would give Simon a jolly good thrashing with a wet Jaycloth. Or something similar.

You couldn't make it up, because if you did, you'd probably get three buzzes.

So, it's good news for Susan Boyle fans and that fab Greek pair who do a Riverdance skit.

Who is your money on to win? I'll put a ton on that funny pair of Geordies who cheekily get on every week.

Great news! The earlobe man made it. To the semi final that is. Though perhaps he's in with a chance at the asylum too...

The Apprentice comes up 'Norf'

Is it me, or is it very worrying that these candidates are in charge of actual sales departments somewhere?

In the latest installment of The Apprentice (BBC1, Wednesdays, 9pm), the candidates were under the illusion that they were off to sunnier climes for this week's task.

Ha ha numpties.

In a rainy service station car park, they were informed by Sir Al that they were indeed 'gaain' ap Norf' to Manchester and Liverpool to sell two of a possible 12 items to big business buyers.

This week's 'PMs' (God, don't you just hate people who abbreviate everything) were Mona and greasy Lorraine -you know, the one that's a cross between Marlon Brando's Godfather with the stuffed cheeks and Woody Allen.

At Manchester's Hilton Hotel the teams picked from a dazzling array of inventions from a 'Mojo Ball' and a 'Drill Mate' to the ridiculous stuff they actually chose to sell which included a sleeping bag with arms and legs and a two-handled dog lead. Pity there wasn't an invention to make Lorraine's hair actually appear clean.
But I guess science hasn't progressed that far yet.

Lorraine spilt up her team and she and pizza-faced Yasmina sold shed-loads. However, Geordy bighead Phillip, braces-wearing Ben and that blond bint with the wonky gob, didn't sell a bean. Which didn't go down too well...

In the boardroom, it was down to Lorraine to bring back two of her team for a possible firing so she chose Philip and the blond. Phillip, at long last, shot himself in the foot - unfortunately not literally - by slagging off Lorraine so much it was embarrassing. He even snapped at Sir Al.

And so it came to pass that it was the North-Eastern nincompoop, in the taxi, with the blue Samsonite.

And good riddance too.

Only one question remains...Deborah - why the long face?

Argey on a bargey with our Cassanova Ken

Eeeee by eck.

Just when you thought it was safe to sail into the sunset, up pops Cassanova Ken Barlow to put a spanner in't works.

Coronation Street (ITV, Monday, 7.30 & 8.30) was full of 'unobvious' goodbyes for sad old Ken - 'Sail This Ship Alone' on the jukebox; "Make sure you look after your Daddy" speeches - you know, understated.

As he drank in the majesty of the cobbles and pigeons, he looked slightly sad to be leaving all this glitz and glamour for a 70 something who now- thanks to a needle, back stitch and a good tailwind- looks more like a 30 something.

Yes Ken has finally had enough of Dierdre's turkey-necked wheezing and Blanche's boggle-eyed bitchiness to run off with an actress who resides on a barge on Wetherfied canal. No, honestly.

Martha aka Stephanie Beecham, was everything that Dierdre aint: womanly, educated and able to speak without half her cartilage bulging from her throat.

Ken fell in love with old, sorry, young Martha on his secret visits to the barge whilst 'taking the dog for a walk'. Now, finally, he had plucked up the courage to write a note to Diedre and leave.

With one small suitcase, he trundled to the canal where she had her infamous homemade soup and a glass of Chablis waiting.

But in a dramatic twist as Ken untied the boat to sail off into the future, he actually jumped off and left her to sail on her own. And just when she thought she was getting a bit of 'how's your father', or, in this case, 'how's your grandfather'.

With a combined age of around 315, this couple, sadly, was not to be.

Now Ken has literally missed the boat to happiness for a life of dowdy wallpaper and halves of bitter down the Rovers.

And there was I thinking he had an education.

Silly old coot.

The bizarre world of Come Dine With Me, Sunday 8pm CH4

Good God.

Just when you think it's safe to turn over to Channel 4 for a little light relief, we are hit with four very odd Brummies trying to cook a three-course dinner in order to win a cash prize of a grand.

Quite simply, four complete strangers host a dinner party in turn for the other diners to vote on in secret. Sounds like a programme for toffs? Far from it...

First of all the viewers and the other guests were introduced to Fareeda, a bubbly Muslim lady who doesn't allow alcohol in her house much to the shock of her guests Natalie, Mike and Lee. They do instead don traditional Indian dress and eat on the floor.
Hmmm.
But the curry went down well, even if the guests had to drink their bottles of wine in the taxi home. But for a couple of the guests, it doesn't look as if it would be an alien concept.

The next evening, it was all round to half-Spanish Natalie's pad. Well her mum and dad's mansion to be precise, for gazpacho, paella and creme brulee. It's here that the knives started to come out - and that's nowt to do with carving.

Aussie Mike didn't like salesman Lee because he's a bit full of himself which is a little rich considering Mike has strutted about like a constipated bulldog for the last two evenings.

Lee, with an eye for a sale, gives Natalie £40 for her very large sangria bowl complete with sangria. The next night, as it is his turn to cook, Lee hilariously puts two goldfish in it instead. And it went down like a mixed grill at a vegetarian luncheon.

Lee, convinced from the start that he was the winner, runs out of time when preparing his food. Consequently, his guests eat two hours later than planned. His burnt creme brulee got thrown out of the window and he gave his guests a bunch of asparagus and packet sauce to take home. His score out of a possible 40? Er, seven.

The last evening was hosted by Aussie Mike who was cockily assured of victory. He made all his guests wear loud shirts for some strange reason. However, his beef was tough and his veggies burned but his Prince Regent cake was a hit.

Pity the hit wasn't between a palm and his smug fat face.

The winner of the coveted prize is Natalie. But the biggest prize must go to Dave Lamb, narrator of the show who promptly took the proverbial throughout the show.

The b*%&h is back!

Good evening TV fans.

Unfortunately, BontheB has been out of action but fortunately, she returns..

Stay tuned for reviews of 'Dirty' Ken Barlow, The self-absorbed toss-pots that could very well become The Apprentice and a homage to the king of the kitchen Marco Pierre White - otherwise known as God in a striped piny.