Dr Helen can ex­per­i­ment on me any­time!

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of Life. OKAY, it’s of­fi­cial – science is dull as f***. I can con­firm this hav­ing watched the BBC des­per­ately try to prove oth­er­wise in Dara O’Bri­ain’s

I thought I’d give them a fair crack of the whip. Maybe it was just school that made science such a turn-off, what with the lessons so bor­ing that the only way to sur­vive was by adding cocks to di­a­grams of cir­cuit boards.

And fair play to the Beeb – they’re re­ally try­ing here. Be­cause this is sup­posed to be like Top Gear for eg­gheads. In­stead of Clark­son, you’ve got O’Bri­ain.

He’s all right – one of the few pre­sen­ters who’ve pulled off that trick off of not ap­pear­ing to be a mas­sive dick­head.

In fact, the most an­noy­ing thing about O’Bri­ain is the daft spell­ing of his name, which is re­ally an­noy­ing. He’s joined by a gag­gle of side­kicks and they’ve got a stu­dio au­di­ence hud­dled around to whoop and holler at all the ban­ter and stuff.

But that’s the prob­lem – it’s very hard to whoop and holler when you’re watch­ing some science slap­head demon­strate ‘taste per­cep­tion’.

And a film show­ing peo­ple walk­ing around in cir­cles in a school hall to demon­strate some science bol­locks or other is never go­ing to be a belly laugh.

Th­ese ex­per­i­ments are like the stuff you get on Der­ren Brown – but with­out any tricks. In­stead there’s just a load of jab­ber­ing.

It wasn’t long be­fore I felt like I was back in the class­room – and I had the urge to flick spit at the dog with my ruler.


But hid­den away among all this turgid science shite is a gem called Dr Helen Cz­er­ski – and on a sci­en­tific scale of one to 10 she’s a cracker.

Here we have the key to mak­ing science in­ter­est­ing.

It’s a method that porn films have long since un­der­stood with their use of sexy lab as­sis­tants in white coats who just love in­spect­ing the size of things.

Be­cause when­ever Dr Helen’s on screen science comes alive. As she sits on the set­tee in her short skirt, this whole science malarkey sud­denly starts to make to­tal and ab­so­lute sense.

Quan­tum physics, black holes, test tubes, graphs, thermometers, Petri dishes and equa­tions and all that stuff – aye, I get it.

All right, so I might not be tak­ing in ev­ery­thing she’s rat­tling on about, but she’s a sci­en­tist and she’s got 100 per cent of my at­ten­tion.

So it’s an ab­so­lute joke that over the course of a 60-minute show, Dr Helen’s only on-screen for about six min­utes.

In­stead, she’s el­bowed out of the way by the rest of the geeky bloke pre­sen­ters whose nat­u­ral home is a 2.45am slot on the Open Univer­sity, where they can blab­ber on about frac­tals for the 17 view­ers that are arsed.

But Dr Helen deserves bet­ter. What the BBC have here is their very own Rachel Ri­ley. And now I’ve got this science bug, why should I be forced to spool through each show on iPlayer to find the bits where Dr Helen’s sit­ting on the set­tee? Why?

How can this pos­si­bly be help­ing to pro­mote science? So come on BBC – ditch the geeky slap­heads and let Dr Helen loose on her own show.

It’s not rocket science.

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