As this weekend was a bit of a sportsfest, and sporting events are almost impossible to cover on a TV site without turning into a review of the game, I figured I’d watch some dross. And so, I tuned in for a repeat of Project Runway (Sky Three, Sunday, 14 March, 7pm).

Having watched the show intently, I’m not sure I could tell you what it’s about. Such an admission, of course, makes a review problematic. I mean, try writing about some show you don’t get and can’t remember without filling it with useless, throwaway, drawn out fluff like this.

It’s impossible.

So thick am I when it comes to the world of fashion, which is what this show is loosely based around (I think) that I drew gasps from my fellow viewers when I pointed at a woman and said “Who is she then?”. It was the very famous Heidi Klum.

Her job, seemingly, was to randomly appear and dribble out faux-orders and then piss off to some other place never to be seen again, leaving all the ratty snarking to some old feller who presumably knows what he’s talking about… or… and maybe this is more likely, he’s on hand to be a prick, so the contestants feel more stressed.

Naturally, the more stressed you make a participant, the more likely they are to cry or lash out. Or, weirdly, in one instance, laugh in the face of another contestant who has just been called “boring” by a panel of yapping Pez heads.

Seeing as fashion is the most odious circle in the known universe (apart from, perhaps, a Friday night in Gatecrasher) it was quite nice seeing people who like cutting up fabric getting bullied. Sadly, I’m guessing that they were being brow-beaten by fashion writers and designers. I’d much rather they dragged some random people in off the street who liked hooting at anyone put in front of them. That would’ve been fun… and about as much use.

You see, like all reality format shows, the criticisms are never constructive. They bray and sneer, eyeball-to-eyeball, with the sole intent of upsetting. With that, you might as well drag a piss-can out of a pub around 4pm and get them to garble insults whilst throwing handfuls of shit at the assembled models.

In fact, I’d like to see that. That’d be ghastly, addictive television.