The Secret Millionaire, Channel 4
Trinny & Susannah Undress The Nation, ITV
DON'T you get awfully bored with real people sometimes? Going around being ordinary, having ordinary bodies and ordinary problems. Oh, it's so dull.
Gill Fielding isn't ordinary, she's a multimillionaire. A Secret Millionaire no less, though the biggest secret seemed to be how she'd actually made that money, which was never really revealed in the return of Channel 4's philanthropy show. Apparently she's the founder of something called The Wealth Company, which seems to advise other people on how to become rich. I hope her advice is more profound than her observation that "the nice thing about money is you can do whatever you want to".
But Fielding grew up poor in the East End and so returned with film crew, 30 years later, to give something back. After getting a job in a caf, she conveniently served an enterprising young woman who runs a worthy community project; out for a walk she "stumbled" across a children's dance school. And then there was a tedious hour of her finding out that both organisations are very admirable and run by nice people who could do with some cash.
Fielding sobbed about how her uncle once gave her a fiver, which started her off being interested in money, and realises that, perhaps, spending "20,000 a month on knick-knackery" is not necessary to her happiness. Eventually, she confessed to being a millionaire and started chucking money around - 19,000 to the dancing school, 5,000 to the single parents' support group, 50,000 stage school fees for a tap-dancing tot, big house deposits for the well-deserving organisers. They all sobbed too, with joy, as well they might.
It was heavily implied that Fielding was looking into more projects that we weren't shown, because I suppose having to think of the disappointed people would bring down the feel-good ending. I just felt good that it had ended and am not sure I'd watch it again unless someone gave me a million pounds.
And you'd have to pay me at least twice that to let Trinny and Susannah grope me, as the increasingly demented fairy godmothers did to random women in their desperate new vehicle, Trinny And Susannah Undress The Nation. Since leaving What Not To Wear, they've struggled with different formats and this sees them truly become a parody. "British boobs need help!" they shrieked, as if it were a matter of life and death rather than underwire digging in uncomfortably. "We feel so strongly about this!"
Again, a pretty basic idea - lots of women wear the wrong size bras and would look better if they didn't - was padded out to an hour like a B-cup breast in a G-cup bra. It opened with the pair half-naked and comparing their breasts, like the world's worst lesbian porn video. Later they donned ridiculous disguises and accents to be measured in department stores, dragged shoppers into a booth to be stripped and had Trinny fitted with a stupid fake bust to show, I guess, what it's like to have to carry around a giant plaster cast all day.
Finally, after pointless scenes trying to create some tension over whether the stunt would succeed, they persuaded a village square full of women to gaily throw their old bras in the air, after parading a few whose top halves had now had been squeezed into various amounts of cleavage. By this point, even the most breast-obsessed must have been wishing everyone would just cover up. Here, it wasn't the ordinary women featured who were the problem but the ordinary material - was this really worth a prime-time slot?