After Naked Attraction, Channel 4 really needs to get its kit on

Clothes. Doncha just hate 'em? Nasty, itchy, uncomfortable things. Why do we do it to ourselves, you know? Why do we encase ourselves in old sheep cast-offs, or flexible plastics?

Anna Richardson hosts Channel 4s new dating show Naked Attraction, which started last week
Anna Richardson hosts Channel 4s new dating show Naked Attraction, which started last week

Wouldn’t life be so much easier if we just threw off our garments and wandered around in our birthday suits? Especially when it comes to dating, to looking for ‘the one’. That way, none of the modern stuff we take for granted – like, I don’t know, which iPad we have, what hairstyle we favour, whether or not we have any common sense – would get in the way of the real person.

Only idiots would think this way. Only idiots and the people in charge at Channel 4 when confronted with the pitch for Naked Attraction (Channel 4, Mondays, 10pm).

This is the show in which one person (clothed) gets to look at six other people (naked) standing in different coloured pods before choosing which one to go on a date with.

Once they are down to the final two, the chooser then has to discard their clothing, before finally choosing ‘the winner’.

The rationale, we are told, is because modern dating has got so confusing, what with apps and profile pictures and modern tech, that it’s best just to strip things back to basics and “find out what men and women really find atttractive”.

And yet. All it boils down to is the chance to show genitals on the telly. The ‘contestants’ may as well be pickled in formaldehyde as they are examined and investigated by the chooser.

Even worse, when they are rejected, they have to share a naked hug, before strolling off, bits swinging in the wind.

Host Anna Richardson tries to keep things jolly and light-hearted, but the whole show seems to be taking place in a vacuum, with no atmosphere at all. And no matter how chummy she gets, poor Anna can’t disguise the fact that it’s as awkward as being in a packed lift when someone’s farted and not knowing who it is, avoiding everyone’s gaze lest they think it might be you.

It was the Celebrity Masterchef final this week, and Jimmy Osmond – he’s not so little any more, by the way – claimed a moral victory. Possibly the nicest man ever to have walked the earth, everything was 'awesome' or 'cool' and everyone was his 'friend' or 'buddy'. Whatever he's cooking - even if it's a whoopie pie - I'll have some too.