More heavyweight than the Soap Awards and less stuffy than the BAFTAs, the National Television Awards is always an entertaining night (if not always for the right reasons - I'm looking at you, Judy Finnigan).
We live in a world where 'abortion' is a word that's still whispered, and Katie deserves nothing but praise for telling the nation what many of us wouldn't say to our own friends.
Jezza tells it straight. I know the guests often have heart breaking stories, webs of lies or just a pure barrel of filth, but sometimes you need to hear it straight. It can help you reflect in your own personal problems and give yourself a good talking to.
The one event that was not shifted about like a wrestler's jock strap was the closing ceremony of the Commonwealth Games, featuring a collection of countries that Britain holds so little sway over that it seemed like a meeting of human rights refuseniks.
It's not just me, I can assure you of that. The whole of the UK is fixating themselves on the lives of others. Like peeping toms, only instead of a window they have a television screen.
Phillip Schofield may want to be the next hard-hitting journalist hack but it ain't gonna happen. His place is as a warm, friendly, popular culture television presenter; we want to see him giggling uncontrollably with Holly Willoughby about phallic shaped parsnips not leading a campaign against the government.