POSSIL Park. Sounds like a fun place to me; conjures up images of kids hunting for dinosaurs or clambering over a big play area shaped like a T Rex.

But I'm thinking of fossil not Possil and the reality is a God-forsaken suburb of Glasgow, where a cat with a tail is a tourist and anyone with a job is regarded a fool.

In this bleakest of landscapes - all graffiti-scrawled walls, boarded-up properties, barricaded off-licences and grey-faced youths with nothing to do but seek oblivion - only a few dignified souls still cling to their pride and care about what happens to their neighbours.

And for a couple of weeks, this would be the 'hood of the waver of wads in this week's The Secret Millionaire (9pm, Tuesday, ITV1), the show you think you'll scoff at, but often end up having to stifle a dirty great lump in your throat - this week more than ever.

If you haven't seen it, basically a well-to-do millionaire goes to a deprived area in the UK in search of worthy causes to give piles of cash to.

It's mawkish in the extreme, but almost everybody ends up benefiting, so it's also bizarrely up-lifting at times.

This week's man with the money was Nick Leslau, a property tycoon worth an estimated 200 million big ones and this series' richest millionaire, who swapped his lavish lifestyle to work with severely disabled people in the estate that really is sinking.

There's deprived and there's deprived, but Possil is in a league of its own.

This place and the people in it have been abandoned and they, in turn, have abandoned hope.

Apart from a small, brave band of fighters Nick unearthed while under the guise of a bloke off the telly making a documentary about volunteers.

There was the wee woman who, despite crippling rheumatoid arthritis, hobbled around a run-down hall, caring for the most pitiful bunch of unfortunates you'll ever see.

They were all disabled, but there was nary a scrap of equipment between them.

No stimulating light rooms here, no music therapy areas, not one professional helper. Yet none of them moaned. Not the voluntary carers nor the people who were being given nothing more than cuddles, a smile and a bit of dinner.

Run on funds from tombolas, car boots and sheer willpower, it made Nick weep with shame at both his attitude to the disabled and his ridiculously privileged lifestyle.

Another woman ran a riding school for disabled children.

There was little equipment, nowhere for the worn-out parents to sit and even if there was, there was no heating.

Then he met Andrew, who went to bed one night, woke up blind and was now an angry hermit with nothing to live for but his guide dog, Oscar.

On it went. The selfless helping the hopeless.

And the more he saw, the more Nick came to admire these feisty folks.

The icing on this mouldy cake was the bearded lady.

A frail, and obviously mentally unwell woman, she was trapped in her dingy flat because she wasn't allowed to take her beloved cat into a care home with her.

Toothless and with a set of whiskers that would have put Thomas Hardy to shame, she shuffled pathetically about her home like a lost circus act, up to her knees in cat poo.

Yet another abandoned Possil soul.

Nick said he was depressed.

Tell me about it!

For goodness sake, stop talking and chuck some money at the poor sods. And he did.

When he revealed he was secretly loaded then handed a cheque for £250,000 to the wee woman with the rheumatoid arthritis and the equally bad hall, she broke down.

When he handed another one for £16,000 to Glasgow Rangers fan Andrew, the poor guy wept for the first time since going blind and promised to use it to buy guide dogs for others.

Mind you, the way his team's playing, he might want to change his mind and give it to Walter Smith!

From a show with the X factor, to one in search of it.

Oh yes, it's back in all its gory and X Factor (Saturday 7.30pm, ITV1) was in top form with the very best audition ever seen.

I refer, of course, to the marvellous Ant and Dom, a singing pair of brothers so fantastically, uniquely bad, they have already become X Factor legend.

One sang - well, actually he just did poor but earnest impressions of Usher, while the other one stared into the middle distance and occasionally threw in the odd hip-hop sound-bite.

My favourite being "Come on, move ya body" in what he thought sounded like a black voice, but was more Norman Wisdom meets Sian Lloyd.

Now, those shots of the judges slapping their hands over their gaping mouths with eyes bulging in disbelief are 10-a-penny on this musical freak show, but these brothers were so not good, they brought about the most extreme reactions ever.

If there was an Olympic event for inciting expressions of disbelief, team GB would have another gold!

By re-christening them Ant and Deaf and describing their performance as "crazy bad" Simon Cowell made them instant stars.

And this week it's Glasgow auditions, so watch out for the Possil Park massive and their cover of Dirty Old Town.