ON the opening night of I'm A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here, Mylene Klass (TV presenter, formerly of the first reality TV pop group Hear'Say) was thrown out of a helicopter, which is something we've all been waiting a long time to see. Unfortunately, there was a bungee cord attached to her. And so, the jungle scene was set for herself and fellow, ahem, celebrities (who include Jason Donovan, ex-Busted bassist Matt Willis, Cherie Blair's journalist half-sister Lauren Booth, some bird from Footballers Wives, eh some other chick, David Gest, another kids TV presenter, a bitchy fashion designer and, um, am I forgetting anyone? ) You have to feel sorry for some of them, having to resort to being sprayed with maggots for the sake of a few inches in Heat.

There have been some surprises, though; David Gest is delightful, despite his screaming for Hershey bars and announcements that he's "king of the tabloids, what do you expect?". He made his way through his Bushtucker Trial with some grace, and Willis is cheeky and vulnerable. But poor Jason Donovan. It's ironic the prizes they collect in exchange for meals are stars . . . for how far his has fallen. In the same week his former onscreen Neighbours partner Kylie Minogue dominated the news with her Sydney comeback gig, Donovan is slouched in a plastic bed, barely raising a grin as the gang serenade him with 'Any Dream Will Do', surely the anthem of the beggars can't be choosers school of fame. The most manic television came on Thursday, when Dean Gaffney, new to the group, was subjected to a horrendous succession of creepy crawly hurling and slugging to win food. He himself nearly crawled, nay, jumped out of his skin, shrieking his way into the file-under-embarrassment TV vaults, and ensuring the RSPCA will have the programme makers on speed dial. All Ant and Dec could do was turn to the camera in bemusement. Speaking of the twosome, is it usual for anchors to be bigger than the stories?

Back over on RTE One, the Brides of Franc are preparing to take it up the aisle. Franc is like Madonna. No, not out of control ego with a penchant for dilly dallying around Malawian adoption laws, but too important for two names. Just the one . . . Franc . . .

y'know, like Bono or McDowell.

Franc plans weddings. He's a symptom of our society's lust for outsourcing everything 'the self ' (remember that? ) used to take care of. Luckily for Franc, none of the Pope's Children have any braincells left after those property headaches, cocaine binges and breakfast roll ODs so they pay him 15,000 (seriously) to come up with ideas. He's waived the fee for the series, although I'm sure RTE will sort him out. In this first episode, the Mrs wants "wow, just wow", while the hubbie was concerned about spending too much money and coming across as "flash". This translated to Franc transforming Kinnity Castle into Hogwarts. It's the kind of wedding your eight-year-old niece might request, but Franc didn't bat an eyelid, jigging together a set of floating candles, talking paintings and quidditch costumes quicker than you could say 'Petrificus Totalus'. Eventually, Franc turns up at their gaff with a price estimate that is triple their budget of 35,000. But he has managed to knock it down and is now coming in under budget. How? We aren't told. Must be magic. Franc managed to convey himself in quite an appealing light, despite a dizzy array of broaches. He was all concern, biz and flailing arms. At one stage, he even mucked in, removing a cloth from a table, although his for-camera efforts were about as genuine as Bertie sleeping on a mattress.

And if the prospect of 35,000 on a Harry Potter-themed wedding didn't confuse you enough, there was always Lost, whose title is more of a dig at the viewer's mindset than anything else at this stage. Now in series three, the characters are, wait for it, STILL ON THE ISLAND. The writers have openly admitted they are, indeed, making things up as they go along. Still, I will again take this opportunity to tell everyone I guessed they were in purgatory from the second episode . If that ends out not to be the case, then Producer JJ Abrams clearly reads this column and has made an alternate ending. On Tuesday, John's backstory was dissected and he was revealed to be a bit player on a commune of cannabis growers, which explains him kicking the bejaysus out of Charlie. There were clear parallels between the relationship John had with Eddie in his past life and Charlie on the island, and when John entered his sweatlodge for some peyote clarity, the island 'spoke to him', successfully, I might add, as Mr Ecko's life was saved despite the roar of a polar bear. Lost is for the dedicated, the disciplined. It's not something you can dip in and out of without driving your flatmates bananas with the 'is this a flashback', 'I thought he was dead', 'why are there bears around again' questions (sorry guys). But at least it's TV that prompts discussion outside the personalities of characters. At least there is a premise, albeit jumbled, to argue over. For all its faults, Lost shows that good drama is worth talking about, while 'reality' TV quickly fades from memory.