Yes, thanks to the coverage of the Paralympic Games in London in 2012 and in Rio in 2016, we all watch and admire the paralympians, and I feel certain their extraordinary courage and prowess in the face of massive physical impairment inspires many people with disabilities. But, aside from 'Clarissa' (Liz Carr) flying the flag for UK disability, where is there a current disabled role model in drama or film?
It might seem like an unholy pairing but we go back years, the Sally Army and me. They have always managed to build a bridge to me across my life - from saints to a sinner! They saved kids near my street when I was a boy with their food kitchens, helped me as a care worker and have supported people I know. That's why I have chosen to do a TV show with them. Everyone remembers the Sally Army, as I used to call them, I'm just not sure everyone quite knows the extent of the work they do. It's their 150th anniversary year so I wanted to take a closer look and get involved.
A young boy - a 14-year-old - lay sobbing in his bed. For eight minutes he had been dragged, marched and restrained across the prison. Worse, as we examined the footage of the restraint we saw the fingers of a duty operations manager - one of the most senior floor staff at the prison - close around the windpipe of a 14-year-old, of a child. The boy was crying out "I can't breathe".
Whilst no-one has gone quite as outré as Ian with the decorations, everyone's still making the most of the time available to perfect the presentation. Everyone, that is, except Mat, who sits calmly drinking a cup of tea and picking at his leftover ingredients while the others sweat over the intricacies of their showstoppers.
Bread week starts with plenty of shots of our intrepid tensome looking all kinds of worried, and it's no surprise. The prospect of a weekend of yeast-based fun means Paul Hollywood gets the opportunity do what he loves the most: prowl around Britain's most famous tent and judge amateurs while his smug-o-meter goes off the scale.
You sit back in your armchair, pick up the television remote control and click the screen on. After a moment of warming up, the picture displays itself into your house, with the volume slightly too loud from the last time you were watching telly, and you hurriedly press the minus key to try and get the sound to pipe down a bit. It only works after you smack the batteries on the back and jab a little bit of life into them...