Well, this was a bit unexpected. I’m not a fan of that bitchy America’s Top Model oevre. To me those kind of shows feature a load of spoilt brats, squabbling over which one is the prettiest, how best they will make a name for themselves at the showbiz parties they will no doubt be photographed at and what they’re going to do to maximise their 15 minutes of fame. So when I saw that BBC Three of all channels was going to do something similar, but with disabled women, I shuddered. Was this going to be television sinking to a new low and exploiting disabled people for a TV talent show? Thankfully, no. It turned out to be one of the most unexpected and enjoyable series of the year.

To catch up with this year’s Top 50, go here. To read all our news and reviews of Britain’s Missing Top Model, go here.

The modeling industry is notoriously harsh and ruthless when it comes to looks and the type of looks that it wants – if the face or body doesn’t fit, you’re out. No room for sentiment. You’re out and it will find someone who does fit the profile.

So how would a disabled model – perhaps deaf, perhaps in a wheel chair, perhaps without a limb – get on in the modeling world? That same unforgiving and transient world?

That’s what this show tried to find out, but on a weekly basis the four judges – Wayne Hemmingway, Mark Summers, Lara Masters and Marie O’Riordan – seemed as though they couldn’t decide what they were looking for. Wayne wanted the winner of the competition to be not just a model but a role model, an inspiration no less, for other wannabe disabled models out there. In the other corner, Mark Summers argued that they should be looking for a model first and foremost and it shouldn’t matter that they’re disabled because casting agents wouldn’t positively discriminate at interviews (he often waved his arms about in an entertaining fashion when he argued this).

If that wasn’t enough to get you thinking, there was the first big discussion point of the series – what makes someone disabled? Sophie, a survivor of an horrific car crash and in a wheel chair, often argued that her disability was much more explicit and constituted real disability, where fellow contestants like Kellie and Lilli (who were deaf) didn’t really qualify. It left viewers challenging their own definitions of disability – how on earth can you decide who is more disabled than the other?

But, lest we forget, there was a competition to be won and, under the mentorship of fashion industry bigwig Jonathan Tang, the girls undertook a series of cleverly devided challenges that forced the girls to confront their disabilities head-on. Some required them to take off all their clothes, some required them to tackle mobility issues, some required them to overcome communication difficulties. Every base was covered.

As the girls waded into the challenges, they often found that they were finding some answers. In one of many very emotional scenes, Sophie, after seeing her picture on the huge, electronic advertising screens in Piccadilly Circus, said that since her accident she often wondered what her life meant and why she was dealt with terrible cards in her life. Seeing herself on display, looking amazing and beautiful, answered some questions that had stayed unanswered for many months.

And this was why Britain’s Missing Top Model was such a success. It was full of emotion and courage, and made you feel immense pride when the girls tackled the challenges, but it also made you think seriously about disability. As opposed to watching privileged idiots squabble in other modeling competitions.