I’m really in no position to judge, but I will

LET me paint you a lovely picture: I am happily hungover after a night of reckless drinking and terrible flirting. I’m in bed wearing a sweatshirt with a cigarette burn in the sleeve, no pants and eating a cold slice of pizza. It is 11.15am. I’m searching for something mindless to watch and Channel 4 always provides. The show is called Celebs Go Dating — a ‘reality’ series featuring a dating agency setting D-list celebs up on staged dates.

Even though my brain is the size of a pea, I can only force myself to watch for about 10 minutes because this might be the most irritating TV programme ever dreamed up. The evil people who made it know this and so have carefully edited the show into bitesize segments to try and create a sense of momentum (even though nothing ever happens, slowly). Basically, they want you to slip into a sort of trance so you don’t suddenly sit up and think ‘What the hell am I doing watching this pile of sick when I haven’t filed my tax returns/cut the grass/fed the dog?’ I lasted just long enough to notice that most of the celebs, male and female, have had ‘work’ done. By that I mean lips like balloons, tits like baseballs and foreheads that look like they’ve just been buffed vigorously with a J-cloth and a can of Mr Sheen.

I know what I’m supposed to say, that it’s a free world and if people want to hand over €300 to have Botulinum toxin injected into their faces, let them at it. But that’s not what I think. I think, in all honesty, I’ve never seen a face ‘improved’ by Botox, fillers or a face lift. TOWIE trout pouts and taut Hollywood ‘smiles’ may be ubiquitous now, but that doesn’t make them better. Saying that, I’d give someone €300 now to run me a bath, bring me tea and find me a pair of pyjamas.