As if the X factor wasn’t already a stale microwave-meal of a television programme, with its touting of the vulnerable and exposing the worst in the television-watching public, it’s managed to spawn an even worse sub-breed of gross.

It seems like Danish X factor judge Thomas Blachman decided there was just too much clothing and not enough objectification in television right now, and thus birthed possibly the most laughably shit and devastatingly backward television show imaginable.

Here’s the format:

Blachman and a lucky guest host (not always as contrastive in amount of head-hair as in screenshot) take a seat in their bachelor-boy leather sofa, situated in an ominous warehouse. Woman enters. Woman removes polyester-silk ‘robe’.

Hairy and hairless warm up with a quick game of “who can occupy the greatest surface area of man-sofa?” When comfortable, they spout their reactions to the target’s body in however way they see fit. Be it commendation, jeering or disgust, it’s all okay in the bachelor-pad because, in the words of the creator himself: “The female body thirsts for the words of a man”.

Even more ludicrous than the fact it’s ACTUALLY allowed to air, is learning that Blachman seems to feels he’s doing us a favour. He’s having a hard time understanding why we are all being so damn ungrateful for his creation, complaining that such thanklessness is the one thing that stifles this type of televisual ingenuity. And the cherry on this bakewell tart of delusion goes something like this:

'Remember, I am giving you something that you have never seen before. Don't bite the hand that feeds you.'

Sorry Tommy, but when you’re force-feeding me juvenile sexism and the most unapologetic type of objectification possible, I’m not going to be in the mood to swallow.

Bite me, Blachman.

(Except urgh, no, don’t.)