Soaked, frozen and pushed out of a plane — who’d be a BBC presenter?

Deep beneath New Broadcasting House, in a dank dungeon where the red eyes of rats peep from the darkness, a highly motivated t eam of s adists devise torments for BBC presenters. And they’re getting nastier.

In recent months, they’ve sent Bake Off’s Sue perkins 5,000 miles to crawl through a sewer beneath Calcutta. Michael portillo had to clamber across a tightrope over a ravine, in his favourite lilac jacket. Glamorous doctor Xand van Tulleken was tricked into drinking himself unconscious.

presenters have been soaked, frozen, parboiled, dunked in ordure and generally terrified out of their wits. They put up with it, because they’re told it’s all part of the job. But this isn’t sporting — it’s just cruel. The poor loves will do anything to keep their faces on telly.

The Beeb’s bullies were in a viciously i nventive mood with Secret Britain ( BBC1). This is supposed to be a gentle show, rambling through pretty nooks of the countryside with a picnic basket and an Ordnance Survey map.

But the third series kicked off by pushing ellie Harrison out of a light aircraft. She looked sick with fear. ‘Smile for the camera, ellie,’ shouted her parachute instructor as they perched in the open doorway. ellie closed her eyes and concentrated on not screaming.

When they hit the ground, sliding to a halt on a hillside in the Lake District, her first words were: ‘Next time I’m taking the M6.’

Olympic gold medallist Denise Lewis was sent sailing, and narrowly missed getting her brains dashed out as the wind changed and the wooden boom swept an inch above her head. ‘ That was a bit nerveracking,’ she muttered as she clambered ashore, her legs buckling.

But Chris Hollins got it worst. Word had seeped down to the dungeon that he was afraid of heights, so he was ordered to scale a 300ft sheer rockface in the Borrowdale Valley and perch on an outcrop shaped like a stone hammock.

To highlight his discomfort as he traversed the cliff, stabbing music played like the soundtrack of a Hitchcock movie. It was hardly needed: Chris had already told us in a whisper that he was ‘petrified’ and, as he scrabbled for handholds, his voice sounded tearful with terror.

‘I’ve got myself into a pickle,’ he whimpered, clinging to the rock. ‘Oh, Mummy!’

At last he reached the ledge and knelt on it, gripping the sides like a man on a raft in a rough sea. He tried to say something about the views making it all worthwhile, but his eyes were bunched tightly shut.

The rest of the show was standard tourist fare: they watched some Cumberland wrestlers, heard the story of Swallows And Amazons, and marvelled at the night sky . . . before one last misery was meted out to Chris.

He was sent to sleep in a cave on a mountain top. Next morning, he could barely stand up. ‘I won’t lie to you,’ he croaked, ‘that wasn’t a comfortable night’s sleep.’

We seemed to hear, from the BBC basement, an echo of cackling laughter. Meanwhile, the last part of This Farming Life (BBC2) offered a much more enjoyable insight into country living.

This outstanding series has studied five Scottish farms, from a traditional croft on the Isle of Lewis to a huge-scale sheep farm in Ross-shire, and revelled in the wild landscapes as much as the farmers’ skills.

For the final episode, we saw a recap of the whole year, beginning in September when barristerturned-crofter Sandy rounded up his ewes and herded them on to a boat to take them to another island, a technique known as seashepherding. We’d seen it before, but the spectacle of six sea-sick sheep in a motorboat doesn’t get any less odd.

Farming is not a business for the queasy, and the sight of newlywed Martin, up to his shoulders with both arms in the business end of a pregnant cow, wasn’t ideal viewing for anyone having their supper.

But after hauling the calf out with ropes and a jack, Martin resuscitated it with the kiss of life — and you won’t see anything more extraordinary on television all year.