Grange Hill - officially the best children's TV show in which the theme tune went 'wah-wah-wah-waaaahh' while a surprised cartoon boy stared at a sausage - is to be axed after 30 years.

To any readers outside the UK, here's a bit of expo: Grange Hill was a high-school drama that was first broadcast in February 1978, and has since gone on to feature gritty storylines about bullying, pregnancy, alcohol abuse and even heroin addiction. Kind of like Sweet Valley High as reimagined by Ken Loach, then.

Delia Smith is the Jay-Z of the middle-class television chef world, albeit a Jay-Z who keeps getting drunk at football matches and has fingers like chubby uncooked sausages.

So why is Delia Smith like Jay-Z? Well, her forthcoming gangsta rap album All Eyez On Me (I'm Making Flapjacks) is certainly one reason, and the other is that she's about to break her own self-enforced retirement. The BBC has announced that Delia Smith is set to make her television comeback next year, six years after announcing that she'd hung up her whisk for good, with an update of her 1971 book How To Cheat At Cooking. Of course, the TV cooking landscape has changed immeasurably over the last six years, so it's clear that Delia needs a gimmick - which is why she plans on screaming all her recipes like they're red-eyed, wobbly-legged football chants.

Jesus fucking Christ!

In the name of the titting Father, this is some surprising news. More surprising, in fact, than that time Christ, Buddha and Muhammed got rip-snorted on PCP and went cruising for gay prostitutes in the Tower Of Babel car park. And certainly a damn sight more shocking that the mythical 'eighth day', during which - following a rest on Sunday - God sparked up a massive joint and had a big celestial wank over some girls from Hollyoaks.

Apparently a Christian activist has still not forgiven the BBC for screening the controversial Jerry Springer: The Opera a couple of years back - a production which featured Jesus dancing around in a nappy. He's now seeking to use blasphemy laws to prosecute the executive responsible for screening it. Well, blow us down with one of Allah's rancid farts.

It's been a scandalous old year for broadcast media, hasn't it?

There was the huge phone-in competition furore, which suggested to shocking effect that - gasp - people in television may not tell the truth on a regular basis, and that the rigid integrity of naming a Blue Peter cat or trying to win a pikey holiday on GMTV may be called into question.

Bigger than that, though, was the Celebrity Big Brother racism row, during which Volkswagen-with-lipstick Jade Goody got into all sorts of trouble because of her constant hassling of fellow contestant Shilpa Shetty. Mind you, it's not as if such ignorant views seemed particularly surprising when they spewed out of Jade's mouth - she is, after all, a cretin of almost biblical proportions whose sole brain cell is mostly occupied by deciding which brand of lard to inject next.

It's not as if some nice, middle-class, well-educated BBC presenter was spouting such drivel.

Until now.