busker

Sooper Nanny

Aside from the incorrigible Trump's triumph, can there be a more spine-tingling watchable show for all the family than the glorious Jo Frost as Super Nanny?

Hair tied back in suitably prim fashion, no-nonsense spectacles, and looking austerely regal in her purple tailored suit, Ms Frost arrives each week to bring discipline and good old fashion manners as she cuts a swathe through American families carefully chosen for their uniquely transatlantic genius for having absolutely no idea how to control their offspring.

Ms Frost bears a disturbing resemblance to a former flame for whom embers still glow, so I'm perhaps not the best to comment disinterestedly ... but by jove what a woman about whom to pass even soppy lovelorn comments.

• First glimpse is always of Ms F looking prim to the point of demureness as she observes the family "inter-acting", occasionally turning to camera to pass shrewd and acid comments on the undisciplined chaos before her.
• I would not be surprised if, under the worthy guise of 'sharing', 75% of her male viewers tuned in simply to ogle this paragon of voluptuous beauty, complete with dulcet Brit accent.
• Having observed, and drawn up a schedule, Jo next turns up in even more deceptive mode, sans lunettes and hair hanging attractively loose. This is where the fun begins.
• Having introduced the family to the astounding concept of a timetable and some sort of consistency to the day, Jo then has a 1:1 chat with the quaking parents, always starting off with positive comments about happy ambiance, brilliant parents, love supreme etc before closing in for the kill with overdue home-truths that invariably reduce defensive mom floods of tears.

  By God, what a woman - no wonder we won the Empire! What further terrors could the Hindu Kush have held for any young man raised by the likes of our Jo?

• The Feb 14 show with the drippy famille Weston and their son, Andrew, had everything:
  • Appallingly ill-behaved child
  • Helpless parents
  • Jo rolling her eyes at the shambles, all the while keeping up an hilarious commentary of things to come.
  • Did I speak of velvet vocal chords? When needed, Jo brings forth tones of steel that stop truculent tots in their terrified tracks.
    How I wish Nanny Holmes were still alive. We could have watched Super Nanny together over Ovaltine and *two* biccies - "Don't slouch, Christopher, dear. I don't know *how* many times I have to tell you about posture, I really don't" - and I *know* her comments would have been priceless.
  • The big surprise was just how quickly the brat Andrew came to heel: I was rather hoping he'd keep up his tricks thus goading Jo to bring out the bigger guns and reduce the scamp to sniveling wreckage before the aghast gaze of his parents.

Another times, with luck.

All I need for my cup to run over is for the delectable Ms Frost to take her formidable charms over to Trump Tower where she can take over The Donald's etiquette lessons where the equally intimidating Caroline Kepcher leaves off.

Ms Kepcher, now - *there* would be a scary Nanny to set loose on unruly pranksters ....