Inevitably Heat are already banging on about the excitement of seeing Patrick Kielty and Richard Park clashing again, but surely that was the one thing everyone hated about the original series? It wasn’t good-natured joshing but absolute hatred between the pair, culminating, of course, in Park’s one-handed salute. Presumably this is considered exciting telly, but as far as I’m concerned it’s simply excrutiatingly embarrassing to watch.

Of course, it was all Kielty’s fault, as Park always seemed rather perceptive. Perhaps his finest hour was when he said that suggesting someone was “better than Madonna”, as Carrie Grant did, was “dangerous rubbish”, which is fair comment and perfectly constructive criticism. In amongst the handbags, there was the germ of a good show here, though the second series lost all that was distinctive or indeed worthwhile about the whole thing.

Still, if it can keep on coming back, there’s hope for a second single from Ainslie yet.

Quite what the BBC see in Kielty is utterly beyond me. Not content with foisting his god-awful chat show on us, we are now brutally subjected to his limited vocabulary (“Good work fella” ad nauseam) and hosting-by-numbers shtick once more as Fame Academy returns to our screens. Personally, I’m of the opinion that Cat Deeley could manage this one on her own and that, subsequently, the show would be much the better for it, but until someone comes to their senses (or nicks back the incriminating evidence) we will have to make do with – and the Irish have such an apposite word for people like him – the gobshite a while longer.

In comparison to Pop Idol (and comparisons are inevitable) Fame Academy comes across as the sonorous, self-pitying, anal-retentive older brother seeking critical affirmation whereas the Idol is still the charmingly, cheeky younger sibling that all the family cherish considerably more. Straight from Kielty’s jaded intro – you got the immediate impression that he had just been introduced to the script – we were introduced to the first karaoke exponent of the evening. Richard Park’s description of him as a pub singer was surely on the money. This was like being in the Horseshoe Bar minus the smoke haze and clink of glasses but with the familiar tunes being belted out with much gusto in the background. There’s something dark about giving kids a mere 90 seconds in which to showcase their vocal talents and then subjecting them to a critical mauling.

At one point one of the judges described the spindly but not entirely unattractive Louise as “a white Diana Ross”. I assume that this was in comparison to Diana Ross their next door neighbour and not the Motown diva. Such sweeping verbals were, sadly, the norm. We were treated to “the Alex of Alexness” and “the Barry of Barryness” too – whatever they meant. Giving Kielty a close run as the most boring, repetitive thing on the show was Robin “you’ve got a good voice” Gibb. Steering the good ship Gibb in the well charted waters of anodyne praise, Robin meted out bland, conformist corporate praise to each contestant in turn. Lacking the viewer pleasing instinct of a Cowell or, God help him, even a Foxy, Robin sits alongside the panel yet somehow alone in terms of critical outpourings. Then again, only Richard Park can truly be said to be scathingly honest. And for those of us who listened to Dr Dick’s Midnight Surgery in the early to mid ’70s, this man’s performance is a revelation.

The brief spat twixt Dr Dick and Kielty provided a rare moment of candour for the viewing public. The former’s comment that the latter was sycophantic to the contestants was as revealing as it was accurate. With perhaps only two or three of the students showing any real aptitude and appetite for the task in hand, Fame Academy suffers from a lack of vitality. Thus as a viewer, I find it difficult to get aroused by the show. Indeed, my daughter continually refers to the participants by way of comparison to last year’s entrants – Peter is “the new Ainslie”, Carolynne is the “new Sinead” et cetera.

As a watered down, demographically loaded version of New Faces, Fame Academy suffers from trying to be all things to all people. There’s little or no opportunity for the kids’ personalities to shine through other than short, sharp sound bites after their performances. The hosting is, thanks to the ill at ease Kielty, uneven, ragged and verging on the shambolic. The show is lacking wit, originality or any sparkle and has, too fast, became a pastiche of itself with effortless ease. It may be a long way from Dr Dick’s Midnight Surgery for some but for others the graveyard shift is soon to be their new home.

The clash between the new series of Fame Academy and Pop Idol apparently came about because BBC1 could not find another slot for their reality show – Friday, where the show went out last year, is now officially Comedy Night (despite the recent repeat run of Auf Wiedersehen, Pet in that slot) and later on a Saturday they’re committed to the lottery and Casualty. You’ll note, though, the latter is currently off air until the autumn, somewhat undermining the argument. What this stubbornness means is that, as well as the smaller audiences that a teatime midsummer slot will bring, Fame Academy will have to put up with constant, self-inflicted comparisons to Pop Idol throughout its run.

Of course the BBC would tell you that the two programmes are very different. Certainly the first series of Fame Academy had enough unique aspects about it to make it a substantially different proposition. After some very public teething troubles, it eventually became a thoroughly entertaining programme. They’d clearly thrown tons of money at it, so you got a massive set and flashy lighting. This was put to good use with the students indulging in complex dance routines and ambitious collaborations. The variety of music in each show was impressive, and regular special guests added to the appeal. Better still, all this, plus the vote-off and footage of day-to-day life in the academy, was condensed into just one hour a week.

This series, however, is rather different. Seemingly the original format was considered too complex, so rather than three students a week getting nominated for eviction, every student must now sing for survival on every programme. This means 13 people each getting one minute to sing a song – an identical format to Popstars and Pop Idol. With 13 students at the start, this makes for samey and boring viewing. There’s no variety, unlike the last series when we got students singing and dancing together, and with the limited time it’s not a particularly good illustration of what they’ve achieved so far in the academy. Worse still, it also means that despite the shows being longer this year (now shown in two parts around the lottery), much less actually happens.

This new format also dilutes the concept of a continuous learning curve. Last time, it was up to the teachers to decide which three students were up for eviction each week, based on how they felt they were performing. The bonus of this was that those who weren’t up for eviction could spend their time writing songs or coming up with new ideas without a huge amount of pressure. This time, though, with every student up for eviction every week, this won’t happen and that makes the show weaker. Rather than the teachers putting proper thought into who they believe is working well, based on weeks of study, it just comes down to whether the public like the look of them after a minute or not. The phone lines are also open constantly, so you can vote hundreds of times for your favourite without even hearing what their next performance sounds like.

Another change is the setting. The huge studio from last time has been abandoned, with the whole show now coming from a small studio inside the academy instead. It’s meant to provide a more intimate setting, but with a tiny stage it means that all the students can do is stand there and sing. Unlike last year, when Ainslie was crowd-surfing and bounding up scaffolding most weeks, the most this year’s intake can do is simply walk a few paces forward – thus putting the emphasis almost entirely on singing, rather than all-round performance. This also means that dance teacher Kevin Adams has been demoted to the role of “fitness coach” and no longer appears on the live shows – a shame, as he was one of the more perceptive and amusing judges. Instead, we’ve got Robin Gibb; a high-profile signing, and no doubt he’ll be able to help the students with singing and songwriting (if, indeed, songwriting is even taught this year), but an utterly useless judge. Gibb seems unable to provide any sort of criticism, instead simply coming up with such meaningless comments as “you have an international-style voice”.

At its peak, the first series of Fame Academy was a satisfying mix of reality TV, variety extravaganza and game show, utterly unlike its ITV rivals. With this series, though, what we’re seeing is a parade of hopefuls after your vote, with the lowest-placed singer going out – basically, exactly the same format at Pop Idol and Popstars. This seems ludicrous – if you’re going up against Pop Idol, why make your show exactly the same? There’s virtually nothing to justify giving up Pop Idol to watch Fame Academy, more or less the only difference now comes in the presenters. And Ant and Dec versus Patrick “Good work, fella” Kielty is no contest.

Neither BBC1 nor ITV1 come out of this scheduling clash with much dignity intact, but had Fame Academy‘s format stayed the same, the BBC could have argued that they were two completely different shows aimed at a different audience. With this new blanded-out Fame Academy, though, there’s no contest. What we have here is Son of Pop Idol, and with the original just a press of the remote away, it’s a lost cause. Now you can bring out the Lame Academy puns…

Yes, the programme’s been overhyped – we could do without the CBBC programmes, for a start. And yes, the first show wasn’t that good. And yes, the update shows on Tuesdays and Thursdays are missable. But the Friday night editions are actually becoming a real treat. Comparing it to Popstars: The Rivals, which goes out on ITV1 24 hours later, the differences are huge. Popstars has found a winning formula that it doesn’t want to tinker with, hence we have interchangable boys and girls singing interchangable ballads, and every show is identical to the last. Fame Academy, though, is a real spectacle. Each week the performances are very different; the choice of songs means that each show has variety – they don’t all sing ballads – and they make the most of the big stage with dance routines and clever lighting and camerawork.

The Friday night Fame Academy format is actually very neat. The three students up for “expulsion” perform solo, and viewers vote for their favourites to stay in. But the other half of the show also has a purpose, as the remaining students all perform, and how well they do counts towards their “grades” for next week and whether they’ll be up for eviction. This means that all the students have something to play for every week, and the viewers can predict who’ll be next out the door. It also means that the criticism they get from the judges is valid and has meaning, as opposed to Popstars where they increasingly just mouth empty platitudes (Geri constantly referring to it being great that they’ve got this far is starting to ring hollow, because with the amount of contestants dropping out, pretty soon anyone who was better than The Cheeky Girls will have got through).

Furthermore, how the evictee is decided is also clever – the student with the most votes stays in, but which one of the other two also stays is up to the students, who each have to vote. Here, the eviction really means something – they know each other very well and therefore it’s a tough decision – and for the last two weeks, it’s been decided on the very last vote. This is a tension that Popstars can rarely match.

Musically, this show is good as well. Carrie Grant and Kevin Adams, the singing and dance tutors, may come over as a bit unlikeable on the show, but it’s obvious that they get results. The students are clearly improving week-by-week – take Nigel, who was abysmal in show one, but is now one of the best around. His excellent performance of Sex Bomb this week was all the more exciting because we remember what he was like earlier in the series, and that’s the great thing about it. Many of the others have real talent as well; Lemar has a wonderful voice, and Ainslie is a great performer – his rendition of Come Up and See Me (Make Me Smile) in the previous show was excellent, because he sounded good and made it obvious that he was having brilliant fun while he was doing it. Some of the others are not quite so accomplished, but you can detect that they’re getting better as the run continues. This training means I’m certain that by the time we reach the final five or so, they’ll all be extremely polished and competent performers.

One criticism of the series is that, despite the fact that it went to great pains to emphasise that people with all sorts of talents were welcome, they all get taught the same way. Because there’s a full-time dance teacher, for example, it seems they must all learn how to dance – even when that’s clearly not the sort of road that they want to go down. It seems to put some students at a disadvantage, because they don’t similarly force all the students to play instruments or write songs. Even the prize – a showbiz lifestyle for a year – seems to be geared more towards the Robbie and Kylie-alikes, if only because you can’t imagine someone who sings plaintive acoustic ballads to really aspire to or enjoy that sort of lifestyle. But at least it does encourage variety and individuality, while Popstars, by its very nature of making a band, is attempting to mould them to fit a certain image.

OK, I’m not so much of a fan that I regularly watch the Tuesday and Thursday editions. The thing is, the Friday show is basically all you need – you find out about the week they’ve spent in the academy, you hear them all perform, and you find out who’s going. The midweek shows are just a bonus, and it’s pointless going on about the low viewing figures, because they’re opposite Emmerdale and so they’re bound to struggle (they’re also spoilt by a narrator with the dullest voice in the world, but that’s by the by). The Friday episodes are where it’s at, and the format and performances are so strong, it doesn’t even matter that the unlikeable Patrick Kielty’s presenting. Those who turned off after the first show – and even the staff and students admitted that the singing was rotten – are missing a treat, because it is now an enjoyable, exciting hour of TV. Frankly, I’m hooked.

If Fame Academy was shown on Saturday night ITV1, with Ant and Dec presenting, everyone would be watching it, talking about it, and remarking how exciting a format it is. Instead, it seems to be used as a target for everyone who’s sick of reality shows to slag off, when surely it’s boring, predictable Popstars that deserves that treatment. It’s a bit like Survivor vs Big Brother, but this time, the show that’s losing out really is loads better than the other. If you only watch one reality show this weekend, make it Fame Academy.