Batle of the sexes

Is it just me or is Fiona Bruce incredibly, incredibly annoying? I only ask because I didn’t have a view on the subject till I was watching her present The Real Sir Alan Sugar (BBC2, Sunday) and on at least two occasions found myself so cross it was all I could do not to smash my TV to tiny pieces with a claw hammer.

The first occasion was when — while breakfasting flirtatiously with Sir Alan on his private jet — Fiona decided to show what a hard-headed reporter cum serious feminist she was by taking umbrage at Sir Alan’s supposed neanderthal sexism. Apparently he has a habit of asking prospective female employees what their childcare plans are. Fiona huffily declared that if he tried that sort of nonsense on her she’d soon tell him where to get off.

‘Yes, Fiona,’ I said with a weary sigh. ‘That’s because you work for the BBC, an organisation which not only bends over backwards to embrace every piece of left-liberal social policy going, but which furthermore can afford to do so because it’s a publicly funded institution. Sir Alan, on the other hand, has to live in the real world. He runs a business — not some government quango responsible for remedying the terrible unfairness whereby it’s always women who have wombs, ovaries and maternal instincts, but never men.’

Later on there was a scene where Sir Alan took Fiona up in another of his aeroplanes, a small one this time, and taught her how to fly. This was Fiona’s chance to switch from Germaine Greer mode to Babs Windsor mode, and make squeaking noises to indicate stereotypical apprehension, mild distress and — oooh, you’re so strong and powerful, yet simultaneously so gentle Sir Alan — girlie vulnerability.