IT was all tantrums and tiaras on the set of I’d Do Anything On Sunday – and that was just from Andrew Lloyd-Webber.

May 3 2008 by Catherine Mary Evans, Western Mail

The remaining Nancys seemed to rein in their flighty, stage-school personas as Keisha was voted off the hit show after a sing-off with Irish waif Niamh.

But the Lord lost his cool, storming out of the studios in a hissy fit that made even camp comic Graham Norton look macho by comparison.

Before saving Niamh from the boot, the Lord did speaketh thus: “First, I’m going to say this is a complete and utter travesty, neither of you should be in the bottom two, it’s completely wrong... I’ve been put into a situation that I have never wanted to be in. For the first time on a television show, I am angry”, before picking up his Nancy jotterpad and flouncing from his throne.

Seems he’s not the only nobleman to be caught throwing his toys out of the pram.

Sir Alan Sugar threw a wobbly of legendary proportions as he fired the latest of his feeble apprentices – Kevin (a dead ringer for Matt Lucas) – on Wednesday night.

To be fair to the grisly one, most of the contestants pulled some stunts that were so shocking they’d be hard-pushed to gain employment at Chicken Cottage, let alone the Sugar empire.

Team Alpha struggled with their pitch for this week’s task – making greetings cards to sell to Clinton Cards, Celebrations and Tesco.

After some of their previous efforts I half expected the team to break out the glitter and glue.

Project manager Michael initially suggested: “My idea is cosmetic surgery. You could give a greeting card to someone who’s about to have a boob job.

“It’s for families to give their loved ones if they’re going under the knife.”

What next? Cards inscribed “Sorry you’re in prison” or “It’s a hermaphrodite”?

But watching Sir Alan turning puce is always a televisual treat.

Watching Channel 4’s Embarrassing Bodies on Monday night was less so – this was car-crash television at its best.

The programme followed a team of doctors as they cruised the country in a mobile clinic searching for victims – sorry, patients – to take part in a revealing “documentary”.

Their aim? To “leave no orifice unprobed”. Sadly for the viewers, they got their wish.

In Leeds, we encountered Pauline, whose bottom was beamed into the homes of millions of unsuspecting families. Quite what possessed Pauline to reveal, in a shaky voice, “this thing that I have” on her rump for the cameras, I’ll never know.

Her deformity had even stopped her having relationships. But apparently it wasn’t quite embarrassing enough to hide from the viewing public.

Any respite came in the form of a woman called Rachel, who willingly bared her psoriasis sores, which covered her entire body.

The team referred her to a clinic in London, where she was given ultra-violet light treatment. But this was followed by a full and frank view of another woman’s nether regions. She was told minor surgery would cure the problem. Therapy is recommended for anyone who saw it.

The series continued every night until Thursday and may have provided a few cheap laughs for this column. But after the first episode, I’d begun to feel quite sick.

Catherine Evans was viewing