Sick of the puff pieces and the wifelets

I know its raging against the machine but I'm really cheesed off with all these cringe inducing mockumentaries particularly from ITV. First we had weeping Gordon. Then smug, I'm an ordinary guy, Dave. My feelings were summed up by India Knight in yesterday's Sunday Times.

I could write reams about the utter mindless nothingness of Sir Trevor McDonald’s interview with David Cameron last Sunday, but I might get apoplexy. At a later date I hope to return to the extraordinary fact that Cameron, who must have been preparing for weeks, had absolutely nothing of any interest or substance to say. It was amazing to watch — you kept thinking, go on, say something with a bit of heft. But no. And whose idea was it to wheel on the posh ginger bloke to explain that posh people were absolutely tuned in to ordinary life? Couldn’t they find anyone who hadn't been to Eton? Baffling.
I will return to it, but for now I’ll content myself with asking — Trevor McDonald: why? So, he can read an Autocue: jolly good, round of applause. But ITV has brilliant reporters and interviewers and even a couple of authentically grand old men. Why use someone who came across as if they were going to explode with pleasure just at being in Cameron’s company, who chuckled paternally at everything he said, eyes shining with love, who didn’t ask one single even slightly tricky question?
It was like watching Grandpa Werther interview Igglepiggle. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite so lame.

Last night it was Cleggy's turn. I have no intention of watching any of them. Why couldn't we have somebody grilling all 3 leaders on the major issues of the day, like, I don't know, lets see, THE ECONOMY. It could be intercut with, not cooing snippets from lovely wives, but critique of policies from academics etc. I yearn for some real political debate instead of all this pap.