Malcolm Barker: She's not strictly a dancer, but Ann's become a TV highlight

No doubt the former MP's much proclaimed virtue is still intact. But dignity? And common-sense?

Thus she adds to the great conundrum of our time. Is there any limit to what people, even nice, ordinary people, will do to get themselves on television?

Miss Widdecombe must know she is no more a dancer than was "jiggling" John Sergeant, who shuffled his way through the previous series of Strictly until deciding enough was enough and retiring unbeaten.

The former shadow Home Secretary, once considered a possible Conservative leader, shows no sign of following his example. She is plainly having a whale of a time on the floor, and may even be the winner. In that case, Strictly Come Dancing would surely become Comically Come Dancing.

Perhaps that is what the BBC wants. If so, maybe somebody should tell the judges, who appear still to be treating the competition as a serious contest.

There's the father figure, Len Goodman, whose pronouncements are invested with great authority. He did protest last weekend that a couple supposed to be fox-trotting did not appear to perform any movements associated with the dance, but was received in glum silence or sounds of incipient revolt.

If Ann Widdecombe can't dance, and doesn't, other contestants and their professional partners can dance, but sometimes don't. Instead they put on performances, some quite bizarre (one entailed a male Rugby Union player kissing a male judge). Apart from poor old Len Goodman's wistful comment, the adjudicators appear to go along with this, although the cross-patch Craig Revel Horwood seems to have reservations. However, no inhibitions deter the shrieking Bruno Tonioli or pretty Alesha Dixon, who are both prone to awarding high marks, even the perfect ten out of ten.

There are quite a few of these talent shows on television. Elsewhere on the BBC, Baron Sugar of Clapton presides over The Apprentice, in which young hopefuls seek to earn themselves a job in his organisation. In conjunction with fellow judges, Karren Brady, the vice-chairman of West Ham United Football Club, and Nick Hewer, "a former PR impresario", Lord Sugar ejects the contestants one by one with a dismissive "You're fired".

This is by way of being a catch-phrase, and contrasts nicely with that of the Strictly Come Dancing compere, Bruce Forsyth: "Nice to see you, to see you nice."

Lord Sugar can't be in it for the money, being among the wealthiest men in the country. Maybe he, too, just likes being on the telly.

ITV's contestant in the battle of the talent shows is Simon Cowell's X-Factor, in which entertainers compete for a recording contract valued at 1m. It is now in its seventh series, and from the start provided a wonderful illustration of the number of people anxious to get themselves on the box. No fewer than 50,000 auditioned for the first series, and a staggering 200,000 applied for the sixth.

In 2005 the show took an award for the best comedy entertainment programme on television. Mr Cowell seemed somewhat miffed, for he protested, "We are not a comedy programme, we're a serious factual drama." He was probably mollified in 2009 when it took the best talent show title in the National TV Awards.

I confess to be ill-qualified to comment on the X-Factor, as I find it hard on the eardrums, and share Mr Cowell's opinion that it is not funny.

In fact, we oldies are in a curious position when it comes to television criticism, for we get our licences free, and therefore find it somewhat ungracious to grumble. I think, though, we might raise plaintive voices and protest that there is too much of the same on the television schedules, too many quizzes, too much cooking, too much house-hunting and, pity help us, too many antiques.

Drama tends to be violent, with dialogue that is too frequently obscured by intrusive background music. It also offers from time to time glimpses of heaving buttocks, which is not the sort of thing you expect to see in the sitting-room. Decent plays need to be hunted out in the schedules. Jimmy McGovern recently created a series called Moving On, a succession of excellent plays with good scripts delivered by fine actors. They were hidden away on BBC2 in the afternoon, a time of day usually populated by such horrors as Flog It and Wogan's Perfect Recall.

Despite these grumbles, there is plenty to enjoy on television. University Challenge is a gem, demonstrating the wondrous breadth of knowledge of the best of our young people, whereas The Weakest Link demonstrates the wondrous ignorance of the rest of the populace. Natural history and sport get good coverage. And if all else fails there is the everlasting, unchanging wonder of Midsomer Murders, all of which we have seen before, but which, mercifully, are imperfectly remembered. With their strong plotting and the amiable John Nettles, the episodes always seem worth watching again.

Then, of course, there is the excitement of wondering what Ann Widdecombe will get up to this weekend.

Malcolm Barker is a former editor of the Yorkshire Evening Post.