Damn you, ITVBe. There I am, flicking past Ladies of London (Wednesdays, 9pm), with a casual “what is this crock of codswallop? Hahaha: look at these silly, vacuous reality telly morons. What fresh hell is th...”.

Fifty-eight minutes later, I’m online, saucer-eyed, scrabbling to download the next episode. “What is that catfight about? What was Caprice going on about? I can’t wait seven days! I just need one more hit!”

The shame.

Ladies of London is the new series on ITVBe, which is just what we all needed in our lives: a new channel screening reality TV and other highbrow titbits.

The programme is patently made in the tried, tested and hideous format of Housewives Of… which zones in on spoilt rich women the other side of the pond with too much time on their hands and more money than sense.

But, this has The Class Issue and, as we are repeatedly told: “this is London: this is the Big League”. The cameras focus on a coven of six elite British socialites: two English roses and four yanks. And you know immediately this is made for an American audience which makes it peculiar car-crash telly.

Each candidate, including Caroline Stanbury (pump-lipped scion of the Vestey dynasty) and Annabelle Neilson (rock muse of Alexander McQueen and ex-wife of Nat Rothchild), is priced up in American dollars during the opening credits. How vulgar, darling.

Then we get the weird fishbowl view of British life: Big Ben! Fortnum & Mason! Stomping on divots at the polo!

Much attention is ladled on pondering what one wears to Polo In the Park, and one of the Americans – pushy Noelle – “wants to incorporate a hat into her life”.

The hat is frowned upon. “You look very... smart,” smirks Caroline. “I feel we should transport you to Ascot where your outfit will fit in better.” Ouch. Posh put-down, ey?

As the Americans get excited by the men and their polo “clubs”, Annabelle chimes in: “I look at [the Americans] as three dogs. Juliet’s an over-excited terrier. Noelle I see as a mutt you picked up from Battersea Dogs Home and she’s had one bad owner. Marissa is one of those pampered poodles.” All of this is ridiculous and you should neither care nor watch it. But it is strangely perverse watching the British class system reheated and served up to you in bizarre catty scenes that make you royally pleased never to have been to private school and not to mix in this “socialite circle”.

Meanwhile, over on the equally inspiring Channel Five, Hey Big Spenders! Shopaholics Exposed (channel5.com) offered a similarly unfortunate cross-Atlantic view of women. This programme interviewed women who could not stop spending, like former city trader Helen who missed the buzz of her job and lost her house, husband and sanity splurging £1.4m in chichi boutiques.

But, most chilling was Andrea – the New Orleans dead-behind-the-eyes Britney lookalike with a drawer full of diamante knickers, still with their tags attached. With her Pomeranian (its claws painted fuchsia to match hers) Andrea hops from mall to mall trawling designer stores for must-have items such as Chanel pooper scoopers while her generous boyfriends foot the bill. It’s almost like feminism never happened.

Thank god, then for Professor Alice Roberts. The likeable, no-nonsense scientist and mum is the best possible vehicle for Spider House on Wednesday (BBC4, 9pm). Calling all arachnophobes, this creepy-crawlie experiment gives a whole home over to eight-legged freaks. As I now know, thanks to a spell of therapy and drug-taking at the Warneford Hospital, facing these monsters is the best way to reduce fear. Bring it on (she says, squealing and watching through her fingers).

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