Style gurus: without them, would we be putting our trousers on back to front every day while cramming our left and right feet into the wrong shoes?

Trinny and Susannah undress ...
ITV1, 8pm
HOW TO LOOK GOOD NAKED
Channel 4, 8pm

Style gurus: without them, would we be putting our trousers on back to front every day while cramming our left and right feet into the wrong shoes? Evidently, many of us would.

For lo, as one wardrobe door closed, another opened. Au revoir, Gok Wan, rude anagram exhortation! Hello, Tranny and Skinny!

First, a confession: I'm heartily sick of Gok Wan, host of How to Look Good Naked.

I'm fed up with his asymmetrical smear of a haircut, and his skinny jeans and his white-framed specs that look as though they came out of a lucky bag in 1955, and I can't abide his crude promise at the show's start: "Keep yer knickers on - here's how to look good naked!"

Gok Wan sought to help a woman called Leanne to stand on her own two feet when it came to her legs: she hated the sight of them.

Whereas the average man apparently thinks about sex and football every 15 seconds, How to Look Good Naked claimed that the average woman worries about her legs every 15 minutes. There must be scope for some beneficial inter-gender trade-off here ("If you worry about Partick Thistle every 7.5 minutes, I'll think about your legs for 45 seconds every half-hour"), but I'm unsure what it is.

The prog also looked at microdermabrasion. As the ladies will know, this is the fashionable cosmetic treatment which aims to replicate the effects of sandpapering the dead outermost surface of your skin without any of that process's discomfort, but at 100 times the price.

Sadly, Gok Wan chose not to endorse my own new non-chemical, non-mechanical microdermabrasion method, available on many Scottish streets right now. Ladies! To ensure removal of your unsightly stratum corneum, simply snog a bearded Highlander! Removes surface skin-layers at a stroke - and it's free! So go, Gok Wan - go now, and stay gone! Because here comes Trinny and Susannah Undress . . .

The new series of T's exercise in sartorial psychiatry began badly with the pair slumped truculently in the back of a taxi.

Displaying a certain reluctance, they appeared to have been dragged away from some cutting-edge fash-mag hags' bash where there were simply oodles of free banana daiquiris still on offer.

Unfortunately for them, T were en route to some frightful new-build mock-Georgian semi in Hertfordshire to aid a glue-coated carpet-layer called Scott and his wife, Sue, a shapeless police community support officer, rescue their ailing marriage.

"Scott's not a traditional English name," Trinny pouted, going on to offend Scots, Scotts and Scottish Scotts by reckoning he must be American.

At this point, Susannah was wearing what appeared to be an unfeasible ultra-high-waist mini-skirt, or it could have been a regular-length skirt hoicked up to her sternum. Trinny had cut a brocaded cream wedding dress up the front and slung it on over jeans. And youse two're tellin' us plebs whit tae wear? Aye, right . . .

In fact, when T focused on just telling Scott and Sue what to wear - as opposed to trying to be deep with sappy cod-psychology - the results were heartening.

Romance bloomed a-new as chunky little Scott became a broad-shouldered dapper Dan in his three-quarter-length fitted overcoat. Sue ceased to be, in her own words, "a geezer-burd", becoming a tall, dazzling, lady-like sophisticate with an entrancing embonpoint.

This happy result came about despite T spouting feel-good tosh like "You gotta embrace what you have, and then what comes, comes" and "You so-o-oo don't deserve to do that to yourself."

Keep it superficial, T: it's what you do best.