ARMED with earplugs and a healthy disrespect for modern music, I settled down to watch The Brit Awards, hosted by the patron saint of foghorns, Ms McCall.

Does that woman have no home to go to? Not only is she omnipresent on our screens, but she also batters our eardrums at every possible opportunity.

Someone should make her aware of that old saying 'Speak softly if you want to be heard.' Then again, her vocabulary is so intellectually challenged - know what I mean, mate? - that I would switch off whatever the decibel level of her rants.

Her 'full on' approach was also totally out of kilter with the tone of the event, which was the most restrained and well-behaved Brit Award ceremony I have been unfortunate enough to witness.

It did not help that most of the acts sounded like items from a baby shop - Pink, Blue, Coldplay and Sugababes - or that the nearest thing to controversy was Justin Timberlake grabbing the chance to check out Kylie's famous rear end.

Even the anti-war sentiments expressed by Chris Martin and Ms Dynamite were hardly hard-hitting. Where were Bob Geldof and Liam Gallagher when they were needed most?

Talking of war, Davina could have chosen her words better when she said the awards were for 'the artists who have gone ballistic over the last few years'.

And what was she talking about when she said - with a beatific smile on her face - that thousands of trees had been planted to counteract the carbon dioxide exhaled by people at the Brits and those watching at home? It might have been more effective to harness her shouting power in a bizarre hybrid of wind energy, and give the National Grid a break!

The question 'Why?' kept surfacing in my brain when some of the awards (and nominations) were announced - Robbie Williams as Best British Male even though he has spent the past year or so swanning around in the USA and making very little music?

One honour that was well deserved was the Outstanding Contribution to Music award handed to the hip-swivelling grandfather of pop, Tom Jones.

Despite displaying a distracting and dubious moustache and goatee beard combination, the pensioner from the valleys gave the youngsters a master class in singing. If only he could also give Davina lessons in how to project her voice melodiously!

Soap Poser:

WHEN Joshua Peacock grows up, will he know how close he came to a future as a hairdresser with a voice like Orville the Duck? Fortunately, instead of having the combined genes of butcher boy Ashley and airhead Maxine, the tot will be 50% Dr Matt. What a result!

How Refreshing!

I HAVE been waiting for years for it to happen, and David Baddiel finally did it. Asked to comment on a topical matter in Question Time (BBC1, Thursday), he said: "I'm sorry. I don't know anything about this." In one fell swoop he recompensed the viewer who had been subjected to the dire spectacle that is Baddiel and Skinner Unplanned over on ITV1.

How Depressing!

WHEN the 'feel the sportsman' round features a champion tree-climber, I think we can safely assume that They Think It's All Over (BBC1, Wednesday) has reached rock bottom.