After watching Road Wars, I decided to stick (as opposed to twist) and ended up watching Mile High (Sky Three, Wednesday, 11.30pm). Now, I won’t blame you if you haven’t heard of Mile High… I hadn’t… and it’s my job to know stuff like this. Basically, Mile High is a ‘drama’ series about a flight crew who work for a budget airline. Sucked in yet? It’s trashy TV akin to Footballer’s Wives and looks cheaper than a No Frills bean tin.

Now, I’m going to be going on looks a lot in this review. I have a small confession to make. Last night I was listening to records and decided to watch the show without sound. I figured it wouldn’t make much difference… and I thought it might make for a funny review. I guess the latter is up to you. Now, come with me over the jump into a world of self imposed silence and the only TV review you’ll ever read that purposefully pressed mute.

From the off, Mile High is the worst looking show ever made. The cameras used give the show a weird sheen. The actors look like they’re either made from rubber or some kind of marzipan with food dye on (usually a lovely air steward orange). As it’s based on air stewards, you’d hope for glam’ locations and palm trees and glorious sunsets. Yes? No. The whole programme is shot on the inside of a plane. The only break you get from interiors of aeroplanes is library/stock footage of planes landing and, in the case of last nights show, Minsk airport.

As a result, the whole thing is incredibly claustrophobic. For this kind of thing, you’d need actors that piss magnetism and suave. What you actually get is a bunch of thesps who couldn’t cut it in a Rustlers advert. Even though I couldn’t hear a word they were all saying (apart from some overly dramatic “SHIT!” spurts and one “That’s my cover!” you could easily see that this was one of the poorest set of actors in the business.

Aside from the woeful acting, there was the woeful stereotyping. One of the stewards was quite clearly gay. How do I know this? Well, he was limp wristed and continually cooed and pouted behind the back of some rugged bloke with George Michael stubble. The captain of the plane smoked cigars and generally looked like someone rejected from a Milk Tray ad. Of course, all the gals were a glamorous bunch. Fake tanned to the hilt and, after an incredibly unlikely outbreak of bugs on the plane, they all ended up in their smalls. Titillating? About as risqué as seeing some soiled scads hanging from a branch.

In short, sometimes you don’t need the sound to recognise truly dismal television. In fact, if I’d chosen to put the sound on, I probably wouldn’t have made it through the entire show. Maybe this is the way forward for telly? Cut the sound and reduce your annoying factor by precisely 50%. [Mof Gimmers]