No Talent Required

So reality programmes aren't running out of ideas? Explain this inspiration-free hybrid, then.

Instead of trying to come up with something new, No Talent Required settles for rehashing two programmes, Faking It (chirpy normal folk, extensive training, video diaries, obsessive mentors) and Pop Idol (glossy studio performances and, erm, Neil Fox). Lazy isn't the word. Well, actually, yes it is.

Let's stroll through the premise. With only a fortnight to work in, a pair of top music impresarios (Jonathan Shalit, who discovered Charlotte Church, and head of rock at BMG Records, Richard Connell) have to turn two groups of ordinary, untalented people into pop acts.

Tonight, it's a bunch of late-thirties cleaners from Sheffield and similarly aged binmen from Oldham. That's the Faking It bit. Then the groups have to perform in front of a studio audience, who vote on which one is best. That's the Pop Idol bit.

Hosting proceedings is the alarmingly plasticky Neil Fox. It's a brave move. Not, of course, in the sense that he's stretching himself or doing anything new - he's as cliché-packed and unburdened by sincerity as ever - but surely a man of his "abilities" has to be applauded for fronting a show called No Talent Required.

It's like watching the emperor jumping up and down screaming: "These aren't new clothes! I'm naked!"

The joy of the programme is supposed to come from watching the pop professionals squirm. That's not how it pans out, though.

Oh yes, it's nice to see the smug smiles wiped off the faces of men who proclaim things like "I can make angels out of monkeys", when they realise that they aren't dealing with wannabes out of stage school, but real people who genuinely can't sing. And yes, it's fun when Connell and Shalit turn on each other, one suggesting that the other takes "management tips from Attila the Hun".

But what makes this show work are the contestants. Both groups are made up of really likeable folk. The more scared and depressed they get at the prospect of having to sing live, the more you love them for their ballsy determination to bloody well do it as well as they can. The show tries to poke fun at them, but their genuine charm is its only real selling point.