TOUGH times in a coffin for Joe Swashquale at the final of I'M A CELEBRITY, as hundreds of rampant rats tried to kiss him or lick his face in the dim light.

Pah. That's nothing.

Just wait 'til the next time he's in Chinawhites or Boujis. Cos the beady-eyed scavengers in those bars are a lot bigger.

And it won't just be his face they're after licking.

Still, we should congratulate him. He (sort of) deserved to win. He was cheeky and charming. He sailed through the trials. He played the vulnerable card when he had to. He joined ITV in playing the "only Brit in the final" card.

And he just about managed to control himself whenever you sensed he had an attack of John Leslie Hands coming on.

But, most importantly, he had that special quality that always gives you a fighting chance in any TV-related public vote.

He was in EastEnders.

Handsome Martina and Gorgeous George were never going to compete with that. In any case, Joe's jungle path was already clear when ITV decided DVD had served his purpose (as predicted here).

Sagging

A bit laughable to describe the three-week camping holiday as a journey though, mate.

If you want a real trial try sitting through that two-hour (yes, two) final when you get home. Cos it was sagging like DVD's wobbly man-boobs way before ITV dug up the likes of Lorraine Kelly and Andrea McLean to fill some time, sorry, I mean reveal their favourite trials. And that pretty much sums up this year. One bad shift from Ant & Dec would mean disaster.

(By the way, boys, massive respect for not totally losing it or saying "fankoo velly much" when George said the kangaroo penis tasted "rubbery".)

Anyway, main problem this year? Too many gambles in the casting office. Dani Bohr, Carly Zzzucker and Brian Absolutedick were beyond pointless. And Kilroy backfired once ITV realised he wouldn't crack.

But Timmy Mallett was the biggest letdown of all. He waits in the wings for years and then he goes and blows his big chance. What an utter gutter.

The other big problem? The Bushtucker Trials. I know there's a credit crunch but, for ten million viewers, surely the piggy bank could've been raided more than once.

Celebrity Cyclone was the only truly memorable trial. And even there the camera angles were almost as bad as ITV's FA Cup game last Sunday. But the It's A Knockout route is definitely the one to go down in future.

Charm

Endless eating trials have had their day. Although there was a certain charm in George turning down the camel's testicle (could've been worse, George-could've been a hoof.)

Still, let's end on the highs. Ant's chocolate ice-cream mouth. Dec's response to the weepy messages from home ("Aaah. Let's kick one of 'em out.") Joe's bad gaaag reflex.

The Outsider by David Van Day. That menacing pink fly swat. Esther Rantzen's fire safety rant. DVD's daughters being more bothered about posing for the cameras than hugging him (wonder where they get that from?)

And the unfortunate visual juxtaposition of that Iceland prawn platter and George's kangaroo penis main course (so that's really why Mum's gone there?) But for absolute series highlight I'm afraid you're going to have to join me back in the playground.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you George Takei's amazing master-blasting, jungle-shaking final-night fart.

If that didn't get rid of the Klingons, nothing ever will.

LATEST from CO*KALONG LIVE. Liz from Bradford reckons Gordon Ramsay's "meaty kebab" is "so strong it's making my eyes water". (Mind if we just add that to the list, Liz?)

Indy from Wakefield was worried he'd be in trouble with the wife after Gordon revealed Indy never eats the packed lunches she makes. (To be honest Indy, there are worse crimes. Eh, Gordon?)

And I've noticed an emerging pattern. Last Friday's guest? Alan Carr (gay). This Friday's guest? Gok Wan (really gay.)

Which begs the question, has Tana Ramsay assumed control of guest bookings for the forseeable?

LOOSE WOMEN, Thursday. Denise Welch announced: "It was my anniversary back in October and I had sex then."

Really, Den? Anyone we know?

Meanwhile the week's tryout panellist Emma Bunton reacted indignantly to suggestions she was over the hill.

Emma luv, you're on Loose Women. Do you really need me to do the maths?

EASTENDERS queries. In honour of Suzy's dog doing his business in the street, how come Tuesday's episode wasn't named Prince And The Pooper?

And after Max Branning hobbled around the kitchen on crutches to make dinner on Friday, will he now be given his own cookery show called Hopalong Live?

JUST BE SILENT

X FACTOR. Bad news for Grrrmot O'Leary and his (wildly optimistic) wish for Simon Cowell to "not be predictable".

Cos the dream was shattered when Cowell booked another of his own label's acts, singing waiters Il Divvo (Arias At Asda), last night. And yet he still has the nerve to imply I patronise readers by not proclaiming his karaoke contest the greatest show in history.

(Just get on with patronising the viewers, Simon. The readers will make up their own minds.)

Fact is, this show is always mildly diverting Saturday night froth. It's the recent unnecessary and unappealing arrogance I can't stomach:

O'Leary blah, blah blahing his way through the phoneline disclaimer as if ITV never stole money from viewers in the first place.

(Yeah, just get over it people.) Cowell crowing about getting higher ratings than "that dancing show", without having the grace to acknowledge it's mainly thanks to the BBC graciously avoiding a schedule clash by sticking Strictly on at teatime.

Assorted idiots declaring Cheryl Cole is a national treasure (for wearing a glittery hairband?)

And, worst of all, Cowell claiming Alexandra is going to be a world star when wisdom tells us the best she can hope for is a jobshare with Leona Lewis.

Still, there has been one bit of good news. Diana's apparently having a torrid teen affair with Eoghan.

So now we at least know where that hand's been.

TURTLE FAILURE

STRICTLY COME DANCING latest. Unsung resident singer Hayley Campbell's wistful (and fully live) Moon River blew away anything "that singing show" on ITV1 has offered us this year.

Elsewhere? Having torn up my Christine Bleakley betting slip I would now accept a Lisa Snowdon/Brendan Cole victory.

Meanwhile, discussing Austin Healey's posture before last night's salsa, Ian Waite was concerned he often moves "like he has a turtle's head" (maybe he doesn't have time for proper breaks, Ian.)

Rachel Stevens complained that during training for their tango, Vincent Simone kept pulling her ponytail to force her head back.

(Aw, come on Rachel, you were in the music biz for ten years. Don't tell me that never happened before.)

And, chilling backstage with Claudia Winkleman on Friday, Tess Daly (above) announced "everyone's welcome in my special area".

A remarkable, commendable admission in itself. But her next revelation really had me spluttering my coffee: "Bruce sometimes pops in in-between shows."

Way to go Brucie. Who needs that knighthood, son.

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