TWO hundred crates of champagne into THE NATIONAL TV AWARDS on Wednesday night.

And Tess Daly captured the mood perfectly as she paid tribute to Bruce Forsyth's 65 years in showbiz.

By giving a speech which lasted almost as long.

Click here to see celebrities at the TV Awards

Elsewhere in the Albert Hall on the flattest night of the television year? You could forget about the likeability factor, people.

Cos it was all about the lickability factor. And Simon Cowell had it by the bucketful.

They were all queuing up to give him a good slurping. ITV, Sir Trev, Lloyd Webber, Elton John, Pete Waterman . . .

Slither

And not forgetting the one man who has benefited most from always being on hand (and knee) when Cowell's ego needs massaging. Piers Morgan.

Hard not to think of Spitting Image's giant Kenneth Baker slug as Piers slithered disgracefully all over the screen.

Especially disappointing for those of us who remember him from the good old days when he did a proper job for a living.

Still, I guess we should let him enjoy it while it lasts. Because, as he himself noted, the great thing about Cowell is that when he spots "a vulnerable, insecure act" he moves on. And one truth about Piers Morgan is that he's seldom hard to spot.

But the most irritating thing about Cowell's canonisation? It took an evening which had been on the ropes for the worst part of 90 minutes and knocked it spark out.

Where the hell did this "Special Recognition Award" come from anyway? ITV's bosses "specially recognising" that without Cowell's talent shows they'd be stuffed beyond recognition?

Fair play to the fella. He deserves much praise for the way he's recycled and repackaged other people's ideas and flogged them around the world. And you cannot knock the dedication of the world's busiest man taking time out to personally drag Leona Lewis onto every big US TV show (including his own) until the American public finally caved in and said, "Okay, okay, we'll buy her record, goddammit!"

But this wasn't the time or the place for ITV to give him this boost. (Besides, usually when Cowell needs an extra lift he just calls his cobbler.)

Fact is, if these awards really do pride themselves on being the only ones voted for by the people, why devote a large slice of the night to one which was clearly only voted for by "the people" who work with or for the man who won it?

And yet ITV execs still wonder why this ceremony has shed half its viewers in less than ten years.

There are other factors of course:

Sir Trevor McDonald, who is not and never has been up to the job of livening up a show like this. (Who's writing his jokes? Brucie?)

The frenzied internet block voting highlighted here last Sunday, which duly succeeded in giving the awards to the same old faces. (Notable exception? Strictly. Which so deserved to win.)

Yelping

The frankly Z-List guest presenters, who appeared to have stumbled straight from OK! Magazine's naff party page. And ITV's brazen self-promotion which, among other crimes, meant we had to endure a performance from the grinning and yelping cast of Britannia High.

Still, at least we can comfort from the fact that particular plug backfired.

Cos now even more viewers know just how bad it is.

THAT Russell Brand/ Jonathan Ross phone call. Considering that Andrew "Manuel" Sachs's grand- daughter has form as an S&M dominatrix, what a pity Basil Fawlty wasn't in the background shouting "don't mention the whore!"

(Ah, is that my coat?)

Bond in a band

GMTV, Wednesday. In a foolhardy bid to become 007 for the day, Richard Arnold had a makeover.

Which prompted this query from Kate Garraway (below): "How do you describe Richard Arnold dressed as James Bond?" Well, Kate. As Dickie has never behaved (to my knowledge) in a way that suggests that he is anything but straight I guess The Living Gaylights is out.

So, in honour of just how tight that dinner suit was looking, it'll have to be a toss up between:

a) Casino Royale With Cheese; b) Live And Let Diet; c) The Name's Band. Gastric Band.

NB: Have to admit I'm liking c).

CLARIFICATION. C4 documentary NEIL MORRISSEY'S RISKY BUSINESS was about the former Men Behaving Badly star's bid to launch his own beer.

Not his affair with Amanda Holden.

I'm taking the Piers

EASTENDERS questions: 1, How come promo trailers like the brilliant Johnny Cash one are always much better than the actual episodes?

2, When Ronnie asked that copper who was searching her club "how long do you intend on turning me over?" was she worrying about disruption to her business? Or just chatting him up?

I'M off next Sunday. So to keep us going until November 16th I'll leave you with one more of these:

Joining Piers Morgan on THE DARK SIDE OF FAME this week was Celebrity Big Brother winner Chantelle. And what did the interestingly-haired, over-tanned, sandbag-breasted, fame-chasing sack of desperation have to say?

Oh, nothing much. He just asked Chantelle a few questions.

NB: If you want to read what I got up to on my last holiday turn to page 60. And witness a hunk of love in his shorts.

MTV1, Sunday. KERRY KATONA: WHOLE AGAIN.

Warrington, in six months (tops).

Kerry Katona: Whale Again.

The kids from lame

ITV1's new High School Musical rip-off BRITANNIA HIGH. Soon to be renamed The Kids From Lame.

Or, if early ratings are anything to go by, S Club 7 Viewers.

Nice for the kids perhaps. But if you ask me there's far too much singing and dancing in it.

And if you're wondering why the hell Michael Grade thought it suitable for his bold new ITV I can't really help you.

I mean, surely the show's exec producer Anita Land couldn't possibly be the same Anita Land who is not only Grade's half-sister but also acts as agent to the bloke in ITV's entertainment dept who commissioned it?

Nah, you're right. I'm being silly.

URGENT message to THE X FACTOR's Nannii Minogue. The arm-twirling, whoop-whooping is getting ever so tiresome, girlfriend.

NB: Those Disco Week songs. Altogether now: "They were D, debatable. They were I, implausible. They were S, slightly off key. They were C, Chico Slimani. They were O, Oh, Oh. . . my God, next week it's Mariah Carey."

Andy so handy

STRICTLY COME DANCING news. Bruce Forsyth's indignance at his jokes getting no laughs is now a hell of a lot funnier than his jokes.

The laws of fairness dictate I must declare Tess Daly hasn't worn a bad outfit yet. (Feel free to apply your own emphasis to that "yet.")

Claudia Winkleman's dance lessons with Len Goodman on IT TAKES TWO are still my favourite thing about this competition. And newlywed Tom Chambers has announced: "I love working with Camilla, I just want to nail it every time." (From what I've seen I'd say there's every chance you could, Tom.)

Elsewhere, Brian Fortuna keeps looking at Craig Revel Horwood like a serial killer who's calculating how many bin bags he'd need.

Our safest bet for a surprise winner, all-round girls's girl Christine Bleakley, announced: "I don't know what I'd do without Strictly." (A little dramatic perhaps but, hey, if working with Adrian Chiles every day was the only thing you had to look forward to . .)

And Ola Jordan (above) has been telling Andrew Castle off all week for touching her boobs in training.

Aw, have a heart Ola. He was in the dance-off last Sunday. Can't blame the guy for making hay while the sun shines.

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