So, a full twenty four hours late according to the billboard ads, we got the return of Big Brother, which we were promised had been killed by viewer apathy and Davina McCall getting fed up that she couldn't do anything else on tv.
But no, it was revived by the disputed-only-by-itv2 king of tv clag, Channel 5 and kept from getting musty with the strategic and somewhat desperate sponsorship of a moisturiser and zit cream peddler.
Instead of Davina, we get her slightly-more-feminine pet, 'Ultimate Housemate' (read 'best of a bad bunch') Brian Dowling, stood rigid, clinging onto his oversized 1970s microphone like he's about to fall to his death if he let's go.
His kid-friendly Graham Norton act comes across more like a dazed Song for Ireland presenter than prime time populist host.
He wasn't helped by the duck's arse on his head, which served only to make his wooden delivery come across like he's been asked to read an essay about Red Indians in front of the whole school, but he spent too long learning about cowboys.
Marcus, the voice over guy has returned, this time employed with providing a much more sarcastic Come Dine With Me Attitude, spoiled somewhat by the forced inclusion of the word 'chicken'. Because he says it funny.
So, anyway, we get a quick glimpse of the gimmick-free (for a change) house, with its designer furniture (DFS has designers, yes?) as well as gym, steam room and pool, included no doubt to keep the celeb ladies toned and their photos printed in Nuts magazine.
And then we get the rogues gallery of failed stars, reality tv types and wannabes...
(To be continued)