The final countdown begins

TV REVIEW: Celebrity Big Brotherlaunch Channel 4, Sunday. The SchoolRTÉ 1, Monday. Flash ForwardRTÉ 1, Monday. That's All We've Got Time ForRTÉ1, Thursday.

IT’S JANUARY, it’s cold and post-Christmas penury has kicked in. If there’s a better time in the Gregorian calendar for scheduling

Celebrity Big Brother

, I’d like to know about it. Many among you are probably muttering “never”, but what better way to kill the New Year blues than by watching a motley crew of bottom-feeders pass themselves off as famous folk?

This is the final year of the Big Brotherbehemoth and, based on this celebrity incarnation, it's clear that the lines between it and the summer "civilian" version are murkier than ever. Given that this is the show's last hurrah, one assumes that the producers would pull out all the stops in terms of the line-up. Instead, we have a reductive broth of also-rans and who-are-theys?

If there’s a theme this year – after 2007’s racism with Jade Goody – it’s celebrity by association. Dane Bowers and Alex Reid (a cross-dressing cage-fighter) have both dated Jordan, Heidi Fleiss is a former Madam to Hollywood’s A-list and Katia Ivanova’s six-degrees-of-celebrity extends to dating Ron Wood of The Rolling Stones. The only vaguely recognisable faces belong to Stephanie Beacham and Vinnie Jones, whose name, for once, is not prefixed with “hard man”. Actor Stephen Baldwin, looking like the creased, crumpled twin of his brother Alec, is now a Republican and born-again Christian. Before entering the house, he announced his intention to “be a representation of the light of truth”. Ironic, given that Heidi “brothel-keeper to the stars” Fleiss’s first words to him were: “I’ve seen you before.”

The first task involved all 11 participants attempting to cram into a Mini Cooper that was disguised as a furry devil. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere. Not to mention a “how many celebrities...?” gag to which the resounding punchline is, “three. The other eight aren’t famous.”

Where are the comedians? The 1970s TV sitcom stars? Boy George? His kindly parole officer probably did him a favour by forbidding him from taking part, but you can’t help but think George’s wit, not to mention the eye-popping stories he could tell, would have enlivened this gathering of dullards. The whole point of the show, though, is about raising profile and rummaging for scraps of fame in the garbage pail of pop culture. It’s for people who crave 15 more minutes of fame and have most likely never heard of Andy Warhol.

Just as the civilian version gives us contestants who dream of tabloid headlines and Nuts magazine photoshoots, Celebrity Big Brother offers celeb minnows a glimpse of both real fame and celebrity redivivus. Exhibit A: Barrow-boy accented Vinnie Jones. Anyone who has written off the footballer-turned-actor will have had to retract their scoffing upon hearing one conversation with Stephanie Beacham when the actress asked where he lived in LA. “Mul’olland Driiive”, his rather proud response, was greeted with (green) eye-brow-raising approval all round.

ASPIRATIONAL TVof a different kind came courtesy of The School, a three-part documentary about St Peter's College in Dunboyne, Co Meath. The only visit of note from my own secondary school days was from Fr Michael Cleary, where he extolled the virtues of chastity. The 970 students and 80 staff of St Peter's were the recipients of a more post-modern drop-in, a camera crew who are documenting a year in the school's life. It is to the programme-makers' credit that they allow the participants to tell their own stories, and, unlike the de jourTV practice of frantically scrabbling for meaty back stories, nothing about this is forced. Instead, in just 35 minutes, we flit through parent-teacher meetings, science competitions, a Queen musical and a visit to the school from the late boxer (and past pupil) Darren Sutherland. Pupils take up "student cams" and roam the corridors, door-stepping camera-shy staff and fellow pupils for their views on race, poverty and what the canteen food is like.

What is most memorable about The Schoolare the people we meet: James who struggles with dyslexia; Rhema from Nigeria who feels Irish and adorable first-years Sean and Blaine who resemble an inverted Statler and Waldorf. If there is a central figure in proceedings, it is the formidable deputy principal, Maureen Murray, whose role looks as multi-faceted (discipline, uniform checks, hugging Olympic boxers) as it does difficult. Programmes like this appeal because of humanity and universality and George Bernard Shaw's "those who can, do; those who can't, teach" has no place in the vibrant St Peter's.

LOST HURTLES TOa close this year, much to the delight of viewers who are barely hanging on by their well-chewed nailbeds. Fear not, though, because US mega-budget series Flash Forwardis here to fill that Lost-shaped hole in our televisual lives. Comparisons to Losthave come readily, mainly because this is another time-bending drama with an ensemble cast and what happens is helpfully hinted at in the title. Everyone in the world blacks out for 137 seconds and, while each person is unconscious, they see a premonition of their life in six months' time. Joseph Fiennes, an FBI agent charged with solving the mystery, sees himself trying to solve the crime while falling off the alcoholic wagon.

A father (played by Irish actor Brian F O'Byrne) of a female soldier who has died in Afghanistan sees his daughter alive. There are multiple story arcs, criss-crossing threads and more than a dollop of CGI and special effects. Thankfully the "c'mon, keep up" story element that thwarted Lostviewers is nowhere to found, but is also part of the problem. On paper – quality casting, interesting idea, and high production values – this should be marvellous. In actuality, it's predictable and frequently cringe-inducing. The dialogue had me guffawing inappropriately, often when characters keep demanding of each other, "do you know what I'm saying?" or "Does this mean . . .?" Yes dearie, it does, so stop pointing out the inexplicable nature of things so we can all try and enjoy this together.

Given the big-disaster-hits-metropolitan-US-city, there isn’t long to wait for the 9/11 parallels – a helicopter crashes into a skyscraper, a wall of flyers for the missing. We see brief news footage of a smoking Eiffel Tower, but you’d be forgiven for thinking that America is the most disaster-centric nation on the planet. Most distracting of all is the horrific music which stomps into every scene, trampling all over whatever the characters are attempting to emote.

Oh and did I mention the corny slow-mo running? Joseph Fiennes’s doe-eyed over-acting? The doctor who has time to stitch up her daughter’s toy squirrel in AE when thousands are injured? No? It’s flawed, but for now is strangely compulsive viewing. Flash forward five or six episodes and it might no longer be the case.

Have they got news for you?

Few things strike more fear into the hearts of the Irish viewing public than the words "panel show". RTÉ's latest offering, That's All We've Got Time For, blatantly takes Have I Got News For Yourather than The Panel as its model. Expectedly, there are rounds featuring headlines and pictures, and host Barry Murphy's delivery is eerily reminiscent of mid-period Angus Deayton. Team captain Kevin Myers is there to ape the role of Ian Hislop, providing on-cue conservative outrage, with Mario Rosenstock as the funny foil à la Merton. The teams were abetted by two guests – a slightly reticent Kevin Gildea and Terry Prone, who helped dispel the tokenism of woman-on-Irish-comedy-panel-show shocker.

Whether you agree with him or not, Myers is a smart man, but he failed (probably deliberately) to grasp that an audience doesn't care for literal answers when there's an obvious gag to be made. There was a palpable sense of restraint, no doubt due to first-night nerves, but it wasn't without laughs, or afraid to put the acerbic boot even if the targets were predictable (Michael Fingleton, the Church). In the week that brought us The School, That's All We've Got Time Formust try harder, but has much potential.

tvreview@irishtimes.com