I ALMOST missed my deadline today because the sandwich I had for lunch took nearly three hours to eat.

Normally it would take about three minutes, which would also include paying a cheque into the bank, posting a letter and texting a quick "hello" to the person I haven't spoken to for the longest.

Now I have to chew each and every mouthful 32 times until it becomes liquidy goo, which it actually does after about 20 chomps, so straight off I'm stuck with a puddle of pulp in my mouth I didn't know what to do with.

Then I must wait for a stern-looking woman in a pinafore and silly hat to sound a bell, which indicates that I could either gob out any non- liquidised remains into a bowl, or else tip back my head in the style of a demented gull and let the whole soggy mess trickle down my throat.

Oh, sorry, were you trying to eat?

According to The Diets That Time Forgot (Tuesday, C4, 9pm) it seems we've been doing it all wrong and we should copy this method of eating invented by the Edwardians if we are to achieve digestive rude health. Now everybody knows that it's a good thing to chew your food well, but following this regime, you'd need to book a week off work for one leisurely lunch.

All the other eating regimes featured were equally daft or plain unappetising. In fact, a lot like the show itself, which was a fine example of regurgitation if ever I saw one.

It seemed to be made up of leftover scraps from Edwardian Country House, 1900s House, Vanity Lair, Fear Factor and even the fierce-looking butler looked suspiciously like one of the masters from the one about the old-fashioned school.

Far tastier is the news that the makers of my new favourite cook show Come Dine With Me (weekdays, C4, 3pm and Sundays, 3-6pm, More 4) must have heard my pleas because it looks like finally making it to a primetime slot on Fridays.

About time too, this is a brilliant series and this week's gang of gormless gourmets, especially the wonderful Camp David and his box of bread, were way more watch-able than the likes of James Nesbitt (The Passion, Sunday and Monday, tonight and Sunday, BBC1, 8pm) trying to look at home in yellow togas (when all we see is Yellow Pages), Kevin Whately as Lewis (Sunday, ITV1, 9pm) struggling to fill the gaping hole left by John Thaw as Morse or Delia (Monday, BBC2, 8.30pm) trying to rip open another pack of guess who's spuds.

Nothing is confirmed as yet, but a little bird, namely a colleague here at the Echo who will shortly star in a soon-to-be-aired episode of Come Dine... told me, so watch this space for news on both those titbits.

Food was also the central hook in the first of the new series of Gavin & Stacey (Sunday, BBC3, 9pm) as the honeymoon couple were welcomed back home with a meal at the local Italian trattoria and scene of this week's big denouement.

Now, I know I'm in the minority here, but I just don't get why people rave about this show. It's okay. It's fine. It's not bad. Well, sometimes it is. And yet it's had critical acclaim, awards and even been called the new Royle Family. I think not.

As far as I'm concerned, despite it having a strong cast, especially Alison Steadman and cheeky-faced Matt Horne, it has the feel of a bad amateur dramatics production of the worst Alan Ayckbourn play you can think of.

The scenes between newly-wed, loved-up Gavin and his jealous best mate Smithy were nowhere near as funny as they obviously thought they were. In fact, they were a bit cringy.

Rob Brydon's character is stupid, but again, not in the way they think it is, and as for the embarrassingly juvenile, 1980-style three-in-a-bed/ ladies-loo scene? All they needed was a vicar, a lacy bra and an extra door and the whole thing would have been a farce.

Come to think of it, that's exactly what it was.