THE good thing about the new series of MasterChef is it could not possibly be any more annoying than previous efforts with Torode and Wallace’s B-film movie acting in which looks of fake concern and horror are thrown in alongside over-exaggerated shouts of “great plate of food” and “he’s literally cooking for his life”.

Brilliantly, though, John and Gregg, with the help of the producers, have dug deep and really upped the annoyance factor by introducing some added, er, X Factor into the competition — American X Factor at that.

It’s loud, there’s some staged rows between the judges, a la Cowell and Walsh, and the chefs have to undergo auditions.

Well, they probably did for previous series, but the audience has to actually watch them in this one.

As usual, the insight offered by bad-cop bad-cop is next to useless and generally consists of “that lamb does taste really meaty and the mint gives it a minty aftertaste”.

There’s no aftertaste in the world that could make me feel better after watching Wallace stuff his face and chow down with his mouth wide open before offering “that’s real MasterChef food”.

The contestants are just a little bit Big Brother Four/Five etc — obviously a decision has been made to up the wack quotient and we are left gripped as the narrator tells us that next week the action moves into the MasterChef kitchen, exactly where you would expect it to be.

Ultimately, rather than possessing the X Factor, this new series of MasterChef delivers more of a Why-Factor.