NOT content with snooping around houses in the Spring, the crack squad behind Scotland’s Christmas Home of the Year (BBC1, Monday) sallied forth during the festive season.

Joining interior designer Anna Campbell-Jones and architect Michael Angus this time was Banjo Beale, who you may remember as the winner of Interior Design Masters with Alan Carr. Truly, TV will eat itself given half a chance.

Banjo was taking the place of blogger Kate Spiers, who is off on maternity leave. I’d like to say for Kate’s sake that he was a walking disaster but who are we kidding? The man from Mull, by way of Australia, is a television natural.

Off went the trio in a minivan. First stop was Anna’s home in Glasgow to discuss tactics. We only got to see her hallway and sitting room. Very lovely they were too, though she could have taken those smalls off the radiators before the cameras arrived.

From Perthshire and Bridge of Allan to Bonhill, Glenrothes and Cumbernauld, the homes were gorgeous, with not a glittery bauble out of place. They were not so much homely, however, as show homely; something you might aspire to one day when the time, money and inclination arrive.

Wonder what Christmas will look like in Rebekah Vardy's home. Given the money the footballer’s wife lost on her failed libel action it might be one satsuma between the lot of them. Or maybe not.

The legal fight was summarised in Vardy v Rooney: a Courtroom Drama (Channel 4, Wednesday-Thursday). Since it was only a few months ago that Wagatha Christie was everywhere, you might have thought it was too soon to be going over everything again.

There was a sense of the highlights being rehashed as if we were watching Libel Match of the Day. The visuals, being mostly the interior of the courtroom, were dull, and the verbals, drawn from court transcripts and witness statements, were occasionally dust dry.

The saving graces were the performances, particularly Michael Sheen playing David Sherborne, Rooney’s counsel.

Exchange for exchange, I’d say this courtroom drama gave a fairer representation of the case than the press coverage at the time.

Even after all these years, the true story at the centre of the documentary My Old School (BBC Scotland, Friday) still takes the breath away. Bearsden Academy, 1993. In walked a new pupil. Though he looked a bit older – “about 40” said a classmate – and bizarrely went by the name of Brandon Lee, the recently deceased son of Bruce, life carried on.

Until the day, that is, the 17-year-old “from Canada” was exposed as Brian MacKinnon, a thirtysomething wannabe doctor from just down the road. Gobs were smacked and headlines were made around the world. What a carry on, eh?

The film opened in the same tone, teasing: “A film about this has never been made. Until now.”

MacKinnon agreed to be interviewed but refused to show his face. What could have been disastrous turned out to be a stroke of luck as his place was taken by a lip-syncing Alan Cumming.

It was also fortunate that writer-director Jono McLeod had been a classmate of MacKinnon. This gave him insider knowledge and insight, and had clearly put the interviewees, pupils and teachers of the time, at their ease. It was like one big jolly school reunion.

The tone turned serious as the hour and 45 minutes went on. What had seemed such a laugh looked different when viewed from the perspective of pupils who were now older, wiser, and had children of their own.

My Old School was superb, entertaining and thought-provoking. Between the animation, interviews, and Cumming’s nicely restrained performance it raced along. Catch it on iPlayer or BBC2 on December 30.

Just one quibble. One of the old Bearsden Academy pupils turned out to be Gregor Kyle, this newspaper’s head of digital. He changes the batteries on the internet or something. Basically, he’s The Herald’s Steve Jobs. Top man, you would like him, but it was a shock to see a colleague suddenly pop up in a programme that wasn’t Crimewatch Live. Next time a warning please.

Here in our hour of need was the Christmas special of Motherland (BBC1, Friday). While the slummy

mummies tried their best it was the usual festive nightmare.

But after the tears and shouting, there was laughter and the comfort of friendship. Other than glittery baubles, who needs anything more?