Back in the house, there was an entirely different atmosphere. None of that politeness and decency HERE, thank you very much. "I'd like to raise a toast to myself!" shrieked Charleine, as the others glumly knocked back the booze, hating her.
I love the show, always have, always will. I have no shame in telling people that I watch Neighbours and I'll champion how good it is to anyone who will listen. More people should watch it and this week was a great place to reconnect with those forgotten neighbours.
Every autumn, this mysterious woman appears, directs people to a boardroom and looks intently at a blurred out Excel spreadsheet. There are so many questions surrounding this enigma.
Kirsty and Brendan danced the Charleston to 'Bad Romance' by Scott Bradlee's Postmodern Jukebox; it was pretty much as bad as anything I have seen on a dance floor, and I speak as a woman who learned Irish dancing with a boy called Adrian who had a club foot.
There's a competitive edge to male friendships that can make it difficult for guys to be open and honest with each other. You might have things that you really want to talk about but can't for fear of appearing weak. As a gay guy, I could stand apart from some of this.
I'm too sensitive, it's true - losing my son left me raw to the world. Pick the scab and I still bleed. Watching my reality played out by actors does pick that scab. Even if I know it's in the name of raising awareness.
All the signals were there that he could be the man to break the curse of the male X Factor winner, and succeed where the likes of Steve Brookstein, Joe McElderry, Matt Cardle and James Arthur had failed before him. But after Ben announced the first single to be taken from his album Second Hand Heart, things seemed to go downhill pretty quickly, as it became clear that he maybe wasn't his label's top priority.
While the pair of shows were edge-of-seat stuff, as we waited with baited breath to discover which of the twenty-four acts would make it through to live shows, somehow it felt as though something was missing. And there was - the distraught tears of the contestants!
Can it ever be OK to lose ourselves completely in a film, book or piece of music - and yet contribute nothing to those people who made that experience possible?
It was an interesting week for many reasons, not least of which was that Tess had finally cracked and murdered her stylist. We knew this because she wore a rather lovely dress and her hair looked nice.
Ok so this episode was a combination of two of my favourite parts of The Apprentice. The abroad part and the scavenger hunt. Essentially the task is the most simple. Find everything on the list for the cheapest price. The team that doesn't gets penalised.
Tasked with buying champagne flutes, lace, a mirror, cheese, a galvinized anchor, (yes, really), an inflatable boat - or goat, I didn't quite catch - and, if I heard correctly, animal poo, half the team headed to Calais (not Dublin) and half glumly stayed put in Kent.
Star Trek is a phenomenon. One of the greatest TV shows and movie franchises and the brain child of Gene Roddenberry follows a team of intrepid explorers across the galaxy seeking out new worlds and new civilisations boldly going when no franchise has gone before.
So I expected the evening to be slightly emotionally charged, to watch a new set of candidate battle it out, where you had been twelve months ago. On the contrary I think it taught me how much had happened in my life and business since to make one year seem like a lifetime.
Tess and Claudia, whose wardrobes in past weeks have been worryingly normal, returned to form in two hideous outfits: Tess in an I-Made-This-In-My-Year-Nine-Textiles-Class number, featuring cheap lace panelling and a missing sleeve, Claudia in a Matalan bargain basement jumpsuit, complete with 80s shoulder pads.
CSI gave me my childhood wish, even if it didn't happen until I was in my 20s. Here was a coroner who just did his job, happened to be disabled, and it was all just realistic. He was a fully fleshed out character, a little bit odd, but not a single one of the standard disabled screen clichés. CSI was the show I had been waiting for my whole life.