What was worse: the singing or Gareth Malone’s neon trousers?

Anyone who tuned in to The Naked Choir (BBC2) hoping for some Beeb beefcake was going to be disappointed. Sunday night at 9pm is the broadcaster’s Male nudity Hour, dedicated to shirtless men reaping hay and wading out of lakes.

But this was Monday evening, and choirmaster Gareth Malone kept his togs on throughout the opener of his new series. In fact, he took umbrage when, while he was sitting down to a nice cup of tea with the ladies of a Portsmouth choral society called Spinnaker, one of them casually remarked: ‘We’re women, so clothes are important to us.’

Gareth goggled. Hadn’t they noticed his natty attire? ‘Clothes are important to me, too!’ he gasped.

As Britain’s chorister-in-chief, with the face of an eternal 12-year- old, Gareth dresses like a comic-book character. The word ‘garish’ doesn’t begin to describe his outfits.

He was wearing trousers the colour of radioactive custard when he strode on to the stage of a Greenwich dance school to greet the first four groups of singers in his new competition to find the best a cappella, or unaccompanied by music (hence the ‘naked’ title), choir in the country.

Minutes later, he was wearing a check shirt buttoned up to the throat, a trim-but-butch look not unlike a lesbian lumberjack, and then striding along a suburban street with a pair of sparkly sunglasses perched on his gelled hair, a la George Michael. Throw in

SIGN OF THE NIGHT: At the car auction in Deals, Wheels And Steals (ITV), a new series about the second-hand motor market, a banner on the wall warned: ‘No mileages are guaranteed unless otherwise stated.’ In other words, mileometers may go back as well as forwards . . .

a Fifties green sweater, a skin-tight short- sleeved shirt, a T- shirt the colour of a neon banana and a tartan bow-tie, and you have a hint of Gareth’s lurid wardrobe.

In most of his shows, where he’s teaching novices, his bold clothes help transmit a zing of confidence to shy singers. But he was surrounded by extroverts here, whooping and shrieking at the mere sight of him.

‘I think this is the happiest moment of my life,’ one woman squealed. ‘My heart is full of unicorns!’

But the format isn’t likely to excite his fans as much. The real pleasure of his previous series wasn’t the music — it was the heart-warming sight of newcomers, especially his Army wives, swelling in confidence and letting their talent shine out.

now he’s working with seasoned amateurs, and the focus is on the songs, less on personal stories. The second half of the hour-long show was mostly taken up with performances.

Sadly, these weren’t up to much. From Tina Turner’s The Best to one Direction’s What Makes you Beautiful, none of the pop songs Gareth chose was well suited to a cappella. All of the groups looked uncomfortable and under-rehearsed, and we ended up with four novelty acts.

Four very different case studies were the basis of Millennium

Children (BBC1), exploring how youngsters survive in poverty around the world.

With its voiceover by a schoolgirl, there was an annoyingly preachy tone to the whole documentary: it was like being lectured about the Un by a sanctimonious ten-year-old.

That will have turned many viewers off. no one but an inveterate Lib Dem wants to go to bed feeling that children are starving and somehow it’s all our own personal fault.

Three of the stories were simply depressing — a girl in California caring for her sick mother, a teenager in Honduras working 24-hour shifts cleaning bodies at a funeral parlour, and a Cambodian child scavenging for scraps on a rubbish tip to feed her family’s pigs. But one little lad called David, an orphan living on the streets of Goma in the Democratic Republic of Congo, was such an irrepressible entrepreneur that he infused the whole programme with hope.

David sold buns from a bucket for a few pence each, splitting his takings with the grown-ups who cooked them. He was persistent, tireless, tough — and ambitious.

He wasn’t looking for handouts. His dream was to save enough to buy a bicycle, which he would hire out for other children to ride until he’d made enough money to buy a fleet of bikes.

And with the profits from that enterprise, he was going to build a home for all Goma’s orphans. Boys like David will save the world, not the Un.