OK. Nigella's Christmas Kitchen was on last night (BBC2, 9pm). I never wealised that she was cursed with a slight speech impediment. She cooked woast potatoes and made special gwavy... and not to mention her mother's own bwandy sauce. I did intend on writing an entire article with said defect to prove how annoying it is, but sense prevails as I don't want to annoy you all (too much).

Anyway, Nigella's Christmas isn't like mine. Hers managed to make me feel sick with gluttony... and bear in mind that I was merely a detached observer and you'll note that is no mean feat. What made me so nauseous? Well, a variety of things. The sound effects of the show made me gag, the food looked... well... too much (even for a Yuletide spread), the camera shots of food, the sequences that saw Nigella entertaining friends and Nigella. Yep, a veritable feast of illness when you're in my shoes.

Some of you are probably thinking that I'm being perverse... but I'm really not. I approached this programme thinking that it might be slightly amusing and that I could make some wry observations about it today. What happened was, and this happened about 30 seconds into the show, I declared that I would tear this show to bits.

Let's break it down. Firstly, those sound effects that I mentioned. No other show suffers from Nigella's sex noises. Of course, I don't mean that she screamed like Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally whilst peeling the sprouts. The show has something far more worrying and subtle than that. The directors of the show are obviously keen to portray Lawson as some kind of fruity sex toff who is playful and kittenish. So, to do this, they seemingly leave very sensitive microphones near her dishes which make revolting 'sex' noises as she stirs some gloopy mixture or other. Whilst Nigella slowly stirred some stuffing mixture I was immediately reminded of a particular scene from art-house flick, The Idiots, just after the main character shouts "Gang Bang!". It was all a bit much.

Also, Nigella's show is a Marks & Spencer advert come to life. It's all tumbling berries and oozes of juices (I felt more inclined to write oozes of joozes, but no matter). With Lawson actually purring as she inserts the spuds into the oven which is wide open until they are ready to burst. It's like watching a drunk woman who has lost her looks in a bar trying to seduce a sixteen year old. It's howwid. Also, the camera crew zoom in on Nigella's face so much that at various points in the show, I actually felt like I'd moved to Lilliput. In fact, at one point I actually shouted "Look! She's life size now! It's like she's kneeling down behind a broken TV!" God I'm witty...

Of course, the whole thing was shot to give the impression that this was all genuinely shot on Christmas day (and the build up to it). That would have been more believable if her husband, a certain Mr Saatchi was around. In fact, from the look of this programme, he probably has the best Christmas ever as he seemingly does sweet fanny adams around the house. Either that or he's appalled by it all and goes off to his garage to weep in one of his cars. 

If you're thinking I'm being cruel... tough. I absolutely resent programmes that show you a mock-up of someone at home and then have the gall to expect you to buy into it. We saw Nigella in a variety of outfits throughout the programme to give the impression that the shoot lasted a couple of days. The sight of Nigella pretending that she'd just got up, immaculate make-up, red silk gown (oh! You are naughty!) and black dominatrix rubber gloves with leopard skin cuff (oh! I am quite frightened!) rustling around in a turkey's arse was enough to make me puke! Obviously, her darling children (if indeed they were her real kids) were merrily playing with a satsuma in the lounge. Rot.

Basically, this Christmas idyll doesn't wash with me one bit. When she quipped "for those of you who only have one oven..." I nearly threw myself in my 'one oven'. Daily Mail readers no doubt fall to pieces at the mere mention of her name with adolescent lust... which doesn't bode well for me. Nigella is exactly midway between the frightening Fanny Craddock and the Cadbury's Caramel Bunny. Be afraid... be very very afraid. [Mof Gimmers]