When I saw him almost dislocating his neck trying to get in to camera shot on Saturday in Brucie's absence, I just kept thinking Alan Partridge dancing in his imagination for that BBC commissioning editor guy. 'Do you want me to lapdance for you? My peep-hole pringle is modelled on an SAS balaclava, sweet feet ooooh ...'
Brrrrrrrrrrr, I'd sooner chew off my own toes than watch Lionel Blair present ANYTHING. His luvviness overdose would beat Forsyth for the compulsion to reach for the fast forward button.