SOME girls don't know they're born. Blessed with a terminally prepubescent appearance; rewarded for taking their gratingly over-acted insouciance deep into adulthood by hunky but unsuspecting boyfriends; sufficiently entrepreneurial to be running a successful business selling glittery miscellania; and, being gifted with extra-sensory perception, fully able to mediate the unfinished business between the dead and the living. Luckily, the cases the Ghost Whisperer has to deal with tend to produce psychological rather than physical strains, so our heroine's hair never gets mussed up.

Ordinarily, the younger males of my acquaintance wouldn't be seen dead taking pleasure from a TV series whose raison d'être is to demonstrate that we all love each other. But when I told some of them I would be trekking into the dark heart of E4 on behalf of my readers they all said they thought it looked good. It didn't take long to work out that the attraction was probably pulchritudinous Jennifer Love-Hewitt. Or perhaps they were drawn to the ghost's quasi-goth couture, coiffure and slap. In this latest episode the spook, a suicide, appeared still wearing his work clothes: a stand-up comedy suit caked in watery grease. The ensemble was completed with fetchingly matted hair, a pale complexion and white contacts.

I don't know why Five felt they had to come up with an answer to Gillian McKeith. Surely stony silence would have been perfectly adequate. Not that You Are What You Eat wouldn't be easy to improve upon: big on hyperbolic visuals, disturbingly graphic excrement analysis, and a hard-to-follow scattergun approach to information of the "Did you know chocolate causes skidmarks?" variety.

The Diet Doctors's girls - one shaped like an hourglass and one svelte - look a bit like Trinny and Susannah, but they don't seem to have separate roles. Instead, they persist in agreeing with each other fairly vehemently. But at least they treat their subjects like adults and dispense information that's a lot easier to understand.

Last night's subject, Carol, was a rich, successful creative director. But she came home every night and stuffs her face with dolmades and tiramisu in front of the television. Because her diet consisted mostly of "luxury food" she had a notion it was quite healthy - in spite of her having put on nine stone in 11 years, having Type II diabetes and an asthmatic wheeze. Needless to say, the programme did the trick. Carol morphed into Wonder Woman, started dating George Clooney, discussed her nightly orgasms with her staff and will live forever. OK, I exaggerate. But things did improve.

Diet Doctors also conducts a sadistic weekly experiment every week on a celebrity athlete. This week we saw Euan Thomas abandoning the "treat your body like a temple" regimen of the professional athlete, and pigging out instead on red meat. The result was diarrhoea, constipation, hyperactivity, lethargy, chronic wind - Euan put on a naughty boy face and farts obligingly for the camera - and stomach pain. As soon as he came off the meat diet his health improved and the pain stopped. Which, funnily enough, is exactly what happened to me last night as soon as I switched off the TV.

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