IS ANYONE else starting to worry about their post after watching the BBC1 series Sorted?

If real life posties spend as much time trying to sort out their complicated personal lives, instead of delivering that important mail you are expecting, then we might as well go back to carrier pigeons.

The saving grace of this northern-based saga of a group of postal workers has been that the cast is crammed with top grade professionals.

Neil Dudgeon, who can always be relied upon to deliver the goods, has been excellent as family man Harry. He discovered early in the series that his wife had been having an affair with his best friend and boss Charlie (played by Hugo Speer).

Meanwhile, Mark Womack has been first class as loner Jack, whose shameful secret has recently been revealed - he had been responsible for the death of his own daughter after crashing the car while drink driving.

Dean Lennox Kelly is far from shameless as the toyboy of EastEnders' Chrissie - where did the curls go and don't they know she must be on the run after being imprisoned for killing Dirty Den?

And Will Mellor has been giving a slightly restrained version of his usual Jack the lad' characterisation as Socialist activist Barmpot, who aspires to rise through the political ranks despite being a bit of a slob on the home front.

How any of them can keep their mind on the job of delivering letters, when they are constantly fretting about their personal situations, is beyond me!

Also beyond me is the fact that anyone has persevered with watching Big Brother (Channel 4) all the way through. I dipped into the weekend coverage to see the return of numbskull Nikki, who had apparently been dumped out of the house by public vote once. So exactly what is the point of the eviction process?

After listening to this troubled child-woman screeching for minutes on end, I can understand why she was top of the ejection stakes recently.

Her whining little girl' act might be entertaining in small doses, but it can't be right that programme makers try to boost viewing figures by focusing a camera on someone who so obviously has real problems. It's exploitation at its most cynical.

It is hard to see who could claim to be exploited in the haven for the extrovert that is The X-Factor.

Wannabes with potential ranging from the non-existent to the stellar have auditioned; Simon has bought in a new supply of black T-shirts; Sharon has perked up her barnet and Louis has emerged from under his toadstool - yes, it all starts again on Saturday.

And how the warring trio will be praying that come the end of the road they will be toasting another Shayne Ward, and not a Steve Brookstein!