I’m greatly looking forward to BBC Three giving Daphne and Celeste their own show. Possibly called U.G.L.Y. It’ll see the pair mercilessly tearing strips of ‘mingers’ in the street without offering any help other than a paper bag with two holes, holes which will be poked in it while the ugling is wearing it. Why? Well, I haven’t heard any rumours or anything but it seems inevitable because it seems like the channel is a refuge for girl group members.

Last night, the latest one was Atomic Kitten’s Liz McClarnon who hosted Hotter Than My Daughter (BBC Three, Thursday, 4 February, 8.30pm) – the latest in a long line of shows that convinces me that certain people who work in television watched the ‘Monkey Tennis’ segment of Alan Partridge and thought it was a documentary.

Yep, Hotter Than My Daughter sees the mother/daughter relationship at its most weird. Basically, you’ve got mothers saying that their offspring wishes they. were. hot. like. them. and the child screwing up their faces and effectively calling their mum a slag.

It’s a ludicrous premise for a TV show which, at certain points, made me think that there was going to be a ‘gag-off’ where each family member took it in turns fellating a hunk to see who was really The Winner of the show.

And we can thank our lucky stars that this never happened.

Instead, we got a pedestrian show that could’ve been titled Stop Stealing My Style, as that was the real crux. Or, better yet, they could’ve called it Mutton Dressed As A Kebab if they wanted something more ‘edgy’.

Basically, Liz (who is actually alright when it comes to presenting… she doesn’t ham it up too much and is kinda self effacing when surrounded by the weirds of television) meets competitive women and pulls a funny little face at the preposterousness of it all and plays along all the same.

Of course, her subjects are completely unaware. Of what? Well, absolutely everything. One lady in her 40s was dressed up like a hooker from The Warriors film, whilst another looked like an orange sculpted into the shape of someone from a Jackie Collins novel and dressed by someone who writes for Cheshire Life. The latter had a 16 year old daughter who looked like she was in her mid-30s.

Now, you may think I’m being judgemental… but really, that’s a gripe you should take up elsewhere. That’s because these dimwits went on a show to openly declare contempt for each other whilst under the scrutiny of a panel of beautifiers, also judging the crap outta everyone.

This show is basically an exercise in people tuning in and braying at the screen like sick mules with disgust and derision. Apart from Liz McClarnon who is just about the only nice person involved in the whole show both on and watching the screen.