SCOTT who?

Well, not really. I can't actually say that I don't know who Scott Henshall is, mainly because I was aghast at the vile cobweb frock he created a couple of years ago, and which was almost worn by a range of celebettes from Samantha Mumba to Jodie Kidd. Strangely enough, the pictures ended up not in the fashion press, but all over publications like Loaded and Nuts.

Our Scott may be a North Yorkshire lad, and dressmaker to the stars, but he and his fellow contestants have been causing a stir in the kind of newspapers which would have been clamouring to carry the pictures of his spider-frock. The reason? Apparently they are just not famous enough to be on I'm A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here.

I kind of thought that was the point. You're unlikely to find Kylie in the jungle, bitching about Madonna's cooking technique, while Ant and Dec make merry quips about their personal habits. Still, it got me thinking who I'd rather see subjected to abject misery, just for my viewing pleasure. Oh, the joy of even thinking about it Trinny and Susanna, people! They have to be top of the list. Wouldn't you just love to strip those strident harpies of their war paint, designer threads and personal hairstylists to see what they'd look like underneath? It's all very well them poking at their allegedly saggy bums and knees, when we all know for a fact they're almost 6ft and wear nothing larger than a size 12 - and that's Susanna on a fat day.

But scrape off the face and hair products and let's see what lies beneath. If it's perfect skin and obedient hair, then I really will know that it's time to shoot myself.

It'd also be great to see them in jungle rigout after Susanna's snooty remarks about Hull last week. Having called its railway station an orangery' (a good thing, apparently), she said the city has no Premiership football team, so its citizens could have no decent clothes sense. Before you all rush to agree, consider where York's nearest Premiership team might be Having plonked the gruesome twosome in the jungle, I then have to consider who I dislike enough to park in there with them.

Step forward Gillian McKeith. After all the revolting things she has made unfortunate fatties go through in You Are What You Eat, I can't wait to see Gillian tackle a bush tucker trial. And with her avowed interest in things lavatorial, I'd put her straight on to latrine duty. Trouble is, she'd probably relish the opportunity to diagnose the lifestyles of her fellow contestants - and she'd be whipping up kangaroo's wotsits and fisheye smoothies to shove down everyone's necks for the rest of their stay in the jungle.

Last but not least, I'd like to shove Jeremy Clarkson in there. Part him from his wheels for a bit and see if he has anything else in life to shout so loudly about.

It'd give Trinny and Susanna another chance to smarten him up a bit, and what with Richard Hammond out of action, it might make Top Gear grind to a halt at long last.

I'm not sure who among that lot I'd want to emerge as King or Queen of the jungle.

I'd probably leave it to the public vote, in return for one, teensy request.

Could they just leave Jeremy in there when it's all over?