I NEVER thought that anything on GMTV could ever stop me in my tracks and make me drop whatever I was doing.

But that's what happened on Wednesday morning when, at her own request, Heather Mills (she seems to have dropped the McCartney, for now) pitched up on the famous sofa to tell Fiona Phillips, Andrew Castle and the rest of us that she's had enough media coverage.

Hooray! So that means an end to all those interviews she loves to do on prime-time channels with the likes of Larry King; and an end to her prancing about on US reality shows like Dancing With The Stars; or appearing on the morning show with the highest ratings in the UK... er, hang on, that's what she was doing, wasn't it?

Silly me, what Mucca really meant was that she had only had enough media coverage of the stuff she didn't want covered. The woman who has shamelessly courted publicity for years now (all in the name of charity, you understand) had the cheek to sit there ranting about how unfair "certain corners" of the press have been to her, while uttering veiled threats directly to camera to her ex, Paul McCartney about no longer being able to "protect him".

She even compared herself to Princess Diana (not realising that most people now concede that the tragic Princess was one of the most accomplished media manipulators ever), using comparisons of press hounding and high-pitched wailing to ram her message down our throats.

Worse, she compared her "trauma" to that of Kate McCann, mother of missing four-year-old Madeleine, and appeared to accuse us all of being bullies. Or something. It was all a bit flaky to be honest.

But unlike Diana and Kate, there's no fatal car crash here (apart from this priceless TV moment), there's no missing child. No, Mills' tragedy, she snivelled, is that she's "one-and-a-half million pounds in debt over court costs" yet, according to widespread reports, she still scraped up enough cash to throw a ludicrous £100,000 birthday party, complete with actors in Disney character costumes, fountains, a cinema and a huge firework extravaganza for her and McCartney's not-missing four-year-old child Beatrice.

If, as Mills was so hell-bent on telling us in this GMTV PR fiasco, she does indeed have "300 loyal friends", then why the hell doesn't one of them tell her to shut up?!

Or maybe Gordon Ramsay would do the honours for us.

That man fears no-one, as was evident in the first brilliant episode of the new series of Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares (Channel 4, 9pm, Tuesday) when he confronted not just one, but a pair of the most aggressive, belligerent chefs ever to appear on telly (well, apart from him) and told them that they were a couple of complete @*@@*!!!s and that they were responsible for the @@***!!?? disaster that was Ruby Tate's, the name of this week's ailing eatery.

The bolshy broth-botherers fought back viciously, but they were no match for the man with the face like a plate of linguine and the mouth of a navvy. After a couple of bloody rounds they surrendered and agreed to stop making big piles of potentially poisonous seafood at £50 a pop and instead serve perfect fish and chips for under a tenner.

But the big story is always the human one and this show is a cut above its other cook-cum-reality rivals because it takes the time to tell it, so once we'd got the cook baiting out of the way, we could get our teeth into the real drama behind Ruby Tate's problems. The owner, Alan Love, was a former bit-part actor who'd ploughed all his money into his dream of running a seafood restaurant. But what Alan forgot was that: A) he hadn't a clue about running a business, let alone a restaurant; and B) he hated fish!

When Ramsey confronted him with the harsh reality, which included having to sell his house, Alan cried. It was pitiful to watch, but Gordon patted his arm and cuddled him like a big brother - then forced him to sit down in front of his accounts and advised him how to get out of the terrible debt his beloved Ruby had got him into.

As well as serving fish 'n' chips instead of fancy pants fruits de mer, he also said the name was crap and suggested Love's would be better. Alan, bless him, gladly took all the suggestions on board.

It worked, it always does when Rambo calls, and suddenly Love's was raking it in, customers were raving, the chefs were happy as two pigs in poop and even Gordon smiled a wee tiny bit.

Mind you, the success could be short-lived as the show ended with Al, obviously carried away with all this success, had decided that singing to his guests would be a good idea.

Er, Gordon, could you come back a minute mate?