WHAT on earth would make anyone tune into this bilge on a regular basis?

A woman with a dog that can do tricks, several dance and gymnastic troupes, two Cockney dancers dressed as playing-card jokers, an impressionist, and a father-and-son singing act were among the finalists who managed to attract around nine million viewers.

Yes, that’s nine million people with nothing better to do on a Saturday night.

I wasn’t one of them. I Sky Plus-ed it and fast-forwarded it through the bad bits, and there were plenty of those.

Simon Cowell kicked off the programme by saying he had “a feeling there may be a surprise in store”.

That surprise would have been if any of the acts had actually been any good. They weren’t.

“A night to be proud of Britain,” warbled Piers Morgan, making it sound as if the competitors had just collectively defeated Nazi Germany.

As you will no doubt know by now, the competition was won by the surely ironically-named Spelbound.

I’m not sure why, though I suppose they weren’t any less deserving than any of the other acts.

What is it about these talent shows that people love so much? Pop Idol, The X Factor, Britain’s Got Talent . . . people will watch anything.

The standard of acts on show on the majority of these programmes is little above what you would expect on a bad night in a working men’s club, yet now anyone who can hold a note or juggle more than one ball at a time seems to think themselves worthy of a television performance.

To be fair, it seems they are correct as they all make it through the auditions and thus earn the right to perform in front of millions of people.

The winners, Spelbound, will appear at the no doubt equally woeful Royal Variety Show. I, for one, can’t wait.