Shall we start today with a quick grammar question, to fire up the brain cells? OK, here goes: An expression such as "don't judge a book by its cover" is known as a what..? Any idea? Care to guess? Fair enough. The answer is it's known as a load of twaddle. At least it is to me.

The cover is precisely what I judge a book by. Before I read it, I mean, assuming I go on to do that, which I won't if it's got something silly and annoying on the front, like dragons or wizards or Zack Polanski. And other readers clearly do likewise. Why else would publishers invest so much in each book's artwork? Browse through the latest cosy crime novels, for example, and see the lengths to which they've gone to ensure each cover looks like one of Richard Osman's.

But that's what's so daft about this "judging by appearances" thing. We're meant to feel bad for doing it, and yet we all do. And nowhere more consistently than when we watch a TV thriller, this new one being a fine example. Missed Call is one of those dramas you could watch with the sound off and still decide which characters seem dodgy. That's because they all do. Or nearly all. Maybe not Sarah (Joanna Scanlan), the mum of teenager Katie (Emily Coates), who's vanished during an exchange trip to France. And, OK, maybe not Katie herself.

But the mum of Emma, Katie's French counterpart, has definitely got to be up to no good. Likewise her husband. Emma's mum reminds me of Morticia Addams. And Emma herself, with her permanent scowl, could easily be Wednesday. Then there's the teacher who's meant to be taking care of this lot. Shifty eyes. And worse than useless when a panic-stricken Sarah arrives in the French coastal town where these kids are all staying, desperate to track Katie down.

As for the French police, don't get me started. Oh, and Rupert Graves is in it, as Sarah's boyfriend, the school coach driver. Rupert Graves is always playing iffy blokes. Still, bear in mind I've only watched episode one. There are four to come, one per night. So don't take my word for any of this. I may have got these characters all wrong.

I'm one of those types who often do that. You can spot us by the shape of our ears.

It's the last semi-final. So whoever wins, as host Clive Myrie doesn't really need to explain but does in any case, gets a place in the final, and a shot at winning that lovely glass fruit bowl each champion is allowed to take home. They won't be given any prize money - nor any fruit, for that matter - but then money is so vulgar, don't you think ? Certain fruits can be vulgar too, mind you. Anyway, the specialist subjects are Laurence Olivier, aviation pioneer Amelia Earhart, the songs of Noel Coward and the red wines of Burgundy. I bet I know which of those was the most fun to research.

Did you know our homes are storing "£32 billion pounds' worth of unused and unloved items"? Me neither. How on earth did they come up with that figure? That's why I put it in quote marks, to distance myself from what seems a somewhat spurious statistic. Anyway, this new show, hosted by Josie Gibson, offers people the chance to have their loved ones' clutter secretly cleared and valued, to persuade that person to finally get rid. Josie, we're told, by the way, is a "car boot fanatic", which I assume means car boot sales, rather than car boots themselves, most of which I personally find quite dull.