Moff such a laff

X FACTOR host Dermot O’Leary results at Sunday night’s disco for show: “How was Yeah, it was you?” Honey G:“up the wicked. We ripped up. We spot. We tore it shut it smashed it up. We liked down.” She quite it, Dermot. OVER 300ft above the ground, Carol Vorderman gingerly stepped out over the edge of the roof and walked the plank.

Comedian Joel Dommett: “It wobbles so much.”

Anthony McPartlin: “That is really wobbly.”

No surprise, really. It did earn her the title Rear of the Year twice, after all.

We’re off and running on I’m A Celebrity… Get Me Out Of Here! which this year has the added presence of a funny-looking hairy critter prowling the jungle and causing misery for unsuspecting victims.

But the general consensus seems to be that Ant’s new beard suits him, so I’ll move on to the campmates who, on paper at least, didn’t exactly scream “classic series” (Gogglebox’s Scarlett Moffatt aside).

There’s Ola Jordan and Olympic hockey gold medallist Sam Quek, “a woman who is living proof that with enough hard work, training and sacrifice, one day you too could find yourself sharing an outdoor

award goes to… toilet with Larry Lamb”. We have the wrong Banjo brother from Diversity, Jordan, late arrivals Danny Baker and Martin Roberts, and spare parts Lisa Snowdon and ex-footballer Wayne Bridge.

But there’s one striking difference from previous series – the traditionally flimsy, girlie-girl characters who collapse at the first sight of a wichetty grub are actually the young men. The women are hard as nails. This roles reversal wrong- footed viewers at first, as they voted as ever for the presumed weakest females to endure the bushtucker trials.

The result was plenty of food for camp, which scuppered the producers’ hopes that hunger would create friction.

So something else had to happen to spark the series into life.

And on Wednesday it did when the voting audience turned on the man-wimps, sent Emmerdale’s Adam Thomas into a signal house and watched as he experienced an arachnophobia- induced squealing, convulsing meltdown. It was brilliant.

The series, though, begins and ends with Miss Moffatt, whether she’s requiring rescue from a pontoon in the middle of a lake by Larry Lamb – “LARRY! Larry’s left us. LARRY!” – or admitting she thought the wildlife noises were dubbed in afterwards.

But her defining jungle moment may well turn out to be her anecdote about emailing Stephen Hawking with her time travel theory, something about the speed of light being the same as the Great Pyramid of Giza’s latitude, and that he probably didn’t receive it because she could only find a hotmail account.

They might as well hand her the winner’s crown and stick thing now, if only for how she boiled down the eating trial to campmates: “I ate two nipples, an anus, a penis, a live beetle and a fermented duck egg.”

Those Geordie nights out get crazier and crazier. CLARKSON, Hammond and May’s The Grand Tour is like watching good old Top Gear in a mirror. There’s a racetrack with Stig-esque “The American” setting lap times, the trio’s signature banter and fantastic big- budget sequences – £4.5million an episode. As Hammond said during a test drive: “You’re looking at magnificence.”Just a pity it’s on Amazon Prime. Clarkson: “And on that terrible disappointment...”