The best way to judge the quality of a TV show (without the hassle of actually watching it) is to see which stars have signed up.

Ricky Gervais enlisted Robert De Nero for Extras, while Never Mind the Buzzcocks has some tit from N-Dubz every single week.

Here’s the top Shite Mark of Quality celebrities to avoid at all costs…

Paul Ross

Paul “Yes” Ross doesn’t need an agent, because he spends his whole life cold calling every TV channel he can find on his Sky box, including Nigerian Movies, Babestation and Psychic TV, in an attempt to get work.

He is willing to surrender his dignity for absolutely any cause, worthy or not. His IMDB page is the single most depressing thing on the internet, a horrible list of all the times he’s allowed himself to be fat (Celebrity Fit Club), kinky (Steve Chisholm’s A-Z of Extraordinary Sexual Fetishes), intelligent (Mastermind) or a loose woman (Loose Women).

If you see the word “Celebrity” anwhere near the title and Paul Ross in the credits, run. It means the production team have been turned down by everyone else in the world.

Simon Cowell

Are exploitative, formulaic, drawn out for six bloody months TV shows your thing? Great, because Simon Cowell is the expert at engineering every last sodding detail of his elimination shows. Where else can you see a 17-year-old girl in tears after a team of millionaires brought her on TV just to laugh at her for being a bit weird? Masterstroke, Simon.

X-Factor, Britain’s Got Talent and Pop Talent Idol are good for just one thing: Crushing the dreams of millions of idiot teenagers. Er, might have to reconsider this entry.

Gina Yashere

When a panel show has a guest drop out at the last minute, they’ll contact a filler, someone who is available at short notice – regardless of quality – to come in and talk balls for a couple of hours of filming. True fact: The producers of every panel show on the BBC have Gina Yashere’s number saved in their mobiles under “Filler – desperation only”.

Gina has two stock jokes:  She’s a bit on the lardy side, and her mum is from Nigeria.  Next time someone pulls out of Mock the Week and she’s sitting next to Michael McIntyre, start counting out loud. When she says the words “my mum actually came from Nigeria, right”, then the number you get to is the amount of points you win. Should you get to double figures, you win a prize.

If you ever see her, feel free to shout “Gina you’re shit” in a way that sounds a bit like her name.

Vanessa Feltz

The female Paul Ross, Vanessa will appear on any reality show that will accommodate her wobbly frame. The one saving grace about The Feltz is that she knows she’s a fame-hungry (and pie hungry of course) idiot, and embraces that. It doesn’t make the programmes any more watchable, but at least she’s laughing at herself as much as the rest of us.

Career highlight has to be Cosmetic Surgery Live, a Channel 5 extravaganza where Vanessa peered over poor bugger having their breasts enlarged, and a transsexual having their face re-shaped. Face reshaping.  Live. On your TV. With Vanessa Feltz staring.

Jim Davidson

Jim’s a 1970s throwback who isn’t afraid to insult any group out there. Except white, working class men. Expecting a hilarious exchange of banter with someone who claims to be a comedian? Tough, it won’t get any more sophisticated than “poofs”. Groundbreaking, James.

The Sun in a crap suit, he’ll cheer on “our boys” in Iraq, while complaining about “shirtlifters”. Once a staple on Men And Motors, has made a couple of jaunts onto ITV. One high profile bummer-whinge too many though, and he’s thankfully been exiled.

Fun fact: He was once out-heckled by a boy scout.

Derek Acorah

What does happen when you die? It’s a question that’s been debated for thousands of years, but has been answered by an unconvincing Scouser with dodgy hair. There is no Heaven or Hell, you just float around the pub you were murdered in, waiting for the day that someone can come in, channel your spirit and reveal the details of your death to bring about justice or something. In broad, vague statements that definitely didn’t come off the Internet.

Derek is a psychic, by which I mean liar, and he pretends to speak for people who may have existed.  Unfortunately, his acting skills are less convincing than Keanu Reeves, and he sounds like he’s suffering from a mental illness.

Noel Edmonds

Edmonds used to be another word for cheap, tacky 90s programming.  His House Party was gaudy crap, amusing for adults – real grown up people – who still find the concept of ‘gunge’ hilarious. Notably, he invited members of the public on in a variety of tat mini-gameshows to make idiots of themselves in pursuit of a little greed.

Now, presenting gaudy guess-a-thon Deal Or No Deal, a punchy title if ever there was one, he invites members of the public to make idiots of themselves in pursuit of a little greed.

The best thing about Noel is his faint resemblance to 80s WWF wrestler The Million Dollar Man.

Richard Bacon

Hey! Remember that time the elephant did a wee on Blue Peter? Of course you don’t, it was 40 years ago. But you do remember it being shown on compilation shows like The 100 Funniest Kids’ TV Moments or The Top 10 World’s Best Animals or It Shouldn’t Happen To a Blue Peter Presenter, right?

The format of these shows is simple. Get Richard Bacon, Vanessa Feltz, any of the cast of Two Pints of Lager or a model turned aspiring actress into a room, show them a brief clip of a TV show and turn the camera on. They’ll remember the show like it was yesterday, and produce a contrived bit of fake memory pretending they saw it in their bedroom.

“Oh, it was hilarious, the elephant just stood there and started weeing. They didn’t know what to do!”

Richard, no.  Let us watch the elephant doing a wee for ourselves.  Which is possibly the weirdest sentence I’ve ever written.

Jade Goody

Take one racist bully with no inhibitions and employ a film crew to follow her around 24 hours a day for an audience of idiot cable TV viewers that care about the trivia of the day-to-day life of someone who is famous for the sake of being famous. Marvel as they buy bread, be astounded as they argue with their partner and shock as they drive to a personal appearance at a grotty nightclub in Stevenage.

Feel like you’re sharing every intimate moment of their existence, because them being on the cover of every magazine and newspaper isn’t enough. Nor the countless TV and radio appearances.  Despite having absolutely nothing of interest to do or say.

Until they, er, die a bit.

This was the good work of Nik Johnson from Shouting At Cows, which you should read and – if possible – lick.

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