Stodgy banter and odd pranks: why is Noel even on Bake Off?

Paul Hollywood, the smug Scouse judge from The Great British Bake Off (C4), is pleading that he never meant to cause offence when he donned a Nazi uniform and swastika at his local pub in 2003.

He was just paying homage to silly sitcom ’allo ’allo!

what he means is, he wasn’t famous back then. obviously he would never have done anything so infantile and obnoxious if he had ever guessed that he’d be a TV star one day.

But, 14 years on, Paul is still displaying his militant tendencies. He treats Bake off, now that Mary Berry is gone, as his domain by birthright.

whether he and fellow judge Prue leith are dispensing advice or delivering verdicts, Paul’s is the first voice we hear, every time.

Prue might get a few words in, if she’s lucky.

The stupid thing is, she’s a far better cook than he’ll ever be and, when she’s allowed to speak, her comments can be lethal.

‘ you’ve got everything right, except it doesn’t taste right,’ she told one contestant pithily.

But the biggest problem with Channel 4’s takeover of Bake off, apart from the interminable adverts, is presenter Noel Fielding. what is he doing there? The former alternative comedian looks like he’s on day release from borstal to visit his gran.

all his mental attention is fixed on trying not to swear.

There’s no chemistry between him and fellow presenter Sandi Toksvig. Their predecessors, Mel and Sue, were best mates from university. It’s hard to imagine Sandi and Noel even speak to each other off-screen.

all their banter is stodgier than suet. Noel told one baker that he’d learned to slip on a banana skin at comedy school. Then, for no reason at all, he and Sandi attempted Michael Jackson’s moonwalk. Then Noel hid in a fridge. It’s all as funny as a stubbed toe.

during the teacake challenge, Noel gritted his teeth and told one baker, in a low-cut blouse, that she had ‘nice buns’. Perhaps he was thinking of Ze Madonna with Ze Big Boobies.

The comedy moments in Doctor Foster (BBC1) were much less forced. we were treated to a delicious dinner party, one of the show’s specialities, where reluctant allies Gemma (Suranne Jones) and Sian (Sian Brooke) spat insults at each other across a plate of monkfish. ‘I think you’re impossible,’ hissed one. ‘unbelievably competitive and smug,’ spat the other. Then they opened another bottle of white wine and broke out the cigarettes.

But their love-hate friendship is insipid compared to the war between divorcees Gemma and Simon ( Bertie Carvel). Their loathing is bottomless, and they still fancy the pants off each other.

In their toxic fight- to- thedeath, everyone else is just collateral damage. Simon casually engineered the destruction of a neighbour’s marriage, merely to mock Gemma. She barely even noticed.

Their teenage son is so freaked out by the hostilities that he’s on medication. That didn’t stop him battering his best mate, which earned him an exclusion from school.

Gemma and Simon just glare at each other and think: ‘How can I use this to hurt you?’ It’s ruthless entertainment, if you’ve the stomach for it.

amid all the hostility, it’s easy to miss the subtleties.

one eloquent moment saw smarmy lounge lizard Neil (adam James) order a coffee and get a smile from the young female sales assistant.

He was so pleased, he almost patted himself on the back. There was no dialogue — it was all in the acting. a lovely touch.