Why on earth do I bother? Who made Wednesday’s the night for rubbish TV? There’s nothing on. How do I know this? If there was something on, there is no chance that I’d end up watching an hour of programmes about f**king property development. It makes me spit! I am powerless to move away from the sofa because these people have the power to hit me with psychic bricks that pin me down… and damn them all!

I can’t bring myself to review Grand Designs again (with its frissons and bold lines), so I’m going to look at Property Ladder (Channel 4, Wednesday, 8pm) because the morons that Sarah Beeny has to deal with are much easier targets.

In the past, I said "for some reason, [Sarah Beeny is] just about the only TV expert I have anytime
for. She doesn’t hog the camera, and seems to carry an air of authority
about her which gains trust. From me at least." Guess what? No, I haven’t done a complete U-turn and suddenly want to stick a golf club through my telly. I still like her. She’s not showy or full of self delusions. She’s bloody good at what she does and has become rather wealthy from it. So quite why the slack-jawed imbeciles who go on this show would ignore her is beyond me.

Beeny was faced with two properties this week… and two sets of people largely not listening to her. One lady made stuff from glass. She claims to be an artist and I don’t at all. She wanted to put her own unique twist on her development, which basically mean messing about with bits of glass and light bulbs. One feature of the house was some lights fitted into a bath. Even her son (a lazy swine mostly) made a quip about people bathing in "yellow water". Yep. Spend £250,000 on a house and you can recreate the sensation of having urinated in your bath. Champion. To be honest, if you’ve got this far, I dare say you’re not especially interested in the real development side of things or you would have watched the show yourself. You want me to call people names don’t you? Well, with the other featured family, you’re in luck.

The other family made me so angry that I came up with a punishment for them. I wanted to speculate just how many bullets it would take to shoot them all into nothing. Y’know? Shoot them and then shoot the left-overs… until there was nothing left at all. Of course, that is completely crass and an idiotic thing to say… and naturally, I can tell that you’ve seen right through my ‘disclaimer’ sentence that followed it… but boy, this family made me unnaturally angry.

I’ll do my best to describe these horrors, but I feel that I won’t be able to convince you at all. This family had no soul whatsoever. They were blithering middle-class idiots with outspoken pinko children who chirruped up with voices that sounded well informed, but in fact, were about as well informed as any other child. I wanted these kids to scowl at their parents every move. I wanted them to sulk and graze their knees whilst charging around like demented catherine wheels… but no… they wanted to get metre rulers out and plan hallways. It made me sick. Of course, mummy and daddy were more than keen to encourage this sort of behaviour as they were probably the kinds of kids who preferred playing Risk and learning how to cook tagines than actually have to deal with other humans (I could be wildly wrong of course… and that’s very likely).

The house they were working on was horrific and ugly. A garage as a centrepiece and a clumsy awkward layout that made the whole thing resemble a cross between a show home and a maze. Beeny, having no financial loss at stake was kind about the whole thing. What made it worse that it was likely to sell for a cool £500,000. For. A. Poxy. Red. Brick. Eyesore. Perhaps I’ve been unfair on this family. They all liked each other and enjoyed each others company. I think my bile has been storing up because Gillian McKeith hasn’t been on our screens for a while. It’s either that or I actually do loathe people like this… [Mof Gimmers]