Even Big Brother looks cerebral and dynamic next to yet another of its pseudo-reality bastard offspring, Geordie Shore. The cast members of this Jersey Shore clone are the most uninteresting collection of people in all of Tyneside, seemingly having no existence outside "the shore" – or if they do, nobody is talking about it.

Not that they really talk about anything, besides the gym, getting pissed, and each other. That’s also all they’re seen doing: the not-so-candid cameras follow the cast around gyms, the house, clubs, interview segments, the house, clubs. A punch-up happened at a club once: why you should care about this isn’t apparent.That’s the action of the show. The premise is simpler; get a bunch of PARTY ANIMALS and put them in a house, and see what happens. Obviously, because these people were so bloody exciting, they had to script it. So it’s not reality TV, but it’s not acted; because actors wouldn’t get their tenses mixed up.

It’s astounding that a show which is effectively a scripted weekend on repeat draws hundreds ofthousands of viewers. The banality of  it was so overwhelming that I had pause every few minutes and go read a book.