Six TV shows that would be 20 minutes long if you cut all the bullshit

IF not for all the pissing about, these shows could be quick, clean and dispatched in the space of one drink:

Strictly Come Dancing, BBC1

Ten dances, no judges, no presenters, no interviews. All the fat boiled off to nothing more than uncut dancing where half of each couple is theoretically famous. Squared away in 20 minutes with the losers announced in voiceover during the credits. That’s what the public wants.

Antiques Roadshow, BBC1

‘It’s a clock. About 300 years old. Doesn’t work. Has some gold on. Worth £3,500.’ ‘Are you surprised?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Are you going to sell it?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Okay, thanks. Take it and move on. Next!’

Ramsey’s Kitchen Nightmares USA, ITV1

Cut all repeated footage. Cut all the bits where people in the repeated footage give their reactions to the repeated footage. Cut all sections that are obviously staged, rehearsed or where Ramsey spouts cruel insults written beforehand. Keep the ad breaks in or no way will it make 20 minutes.

The news, all channels

Four bulletins a day, half an hour each? Wasting everyone’s time. A single 20-minute news round-up on a Sunday evening could give you all the key events and save everyone hours of worry. If something actually important happened they could break into proper telly to inform you, as they do anyway.

Loose Women, ITV1

Go straight to the end of the drinking-at-lunchtime hen party. Open on the women in question staggering around, hammered, slurring ‘whose wine is this? F**k it, it’s mine now’ while complaining furiously and incoherently about the men in their lives. Carole Malone shouts ‘send them all back’ while falling off a stool.

The Great British Bake Off, Channel 4

Show us the cakes. Tell us if the cakes are good. Tell us who baked the best cake. There’s no need for process, peril or personalities. Whether a person is nice has no relation to whether they can bake a good cake. Award the prize to a cake.

I am Gary Lineker. I am the centrist Christ

THE sins of mankind, and in particular Tory voters, condemned the people. But one man was sent to suffer for their sins. I am Gary Lineker, your centrist Christ. 

For my views, anodyne and New Labour as they are, I am martyred. For a single tweet comparing the government’s inflammatory language to that of 1930s Germany, my flesh is scourged and my position as football presenter is under threat.

For the crime of believing that seeking asylum is not necessarily illegal, according to the 1951 Refugee Convention adopted by the United Nations, I am marched to my Calvary.

And that is not my only centrist belief. I believe that Brexit was mis-sold to the public and is going badly. I believe that the parties attended by Boris Johnson were, indeed, parties. I believe that tax cuts for the rich during a cost-of-living crisis are fiscally and morally wrong.

It is for these beliefs, held by the majority of the country, that the rulers of this land believe I am a threat. It is for these beliefs that I am crucified.

Do not think I do not suffer. Though I have selflessly taken your suffering upon myself, I feel every agony. When Football Focus is replaced by Bargain Hunt, it is as if they make me wear a crown of thorns.

When Final Score is replaced by The Repair Shop, a spear enters my side. When all 5 Live’s sports coverage is pulled, I cry out to the very heavens.

When you see me at Leicester vs Chelsea at the King Power Stadium later today, do not pray for me. Pray for yourselves and the BBC that you believed in and can believe in again.

For I shall rise.