BLONDES have more fun? Try telling that to Agnetha Faltskg, "the blonde one" from ABBA and subject of many a male fantasy throughout the '70s, who after a series of unfortunate events, including divorce from a fellow band member, her mother's suicide, brushes with death on a plane and on a coach and the unwanted attentions of a stalker, now lives the life of recluse in some godforsaken wilderness near Stockholm.

In the olden days when women were allowed to have hips and bums and squiggly teeth, the flaxen-haired, blue-eyed Agnetha, was a goddess.

So how the hell did this sexy Scandinavian end up copping off with a bloke with unsavoury toilet habits?

I refer to the clammy-clawed Gert van der Graaf - a text book loner/loser who became obsessed with her and went on to be her stalker then, bizarrely, her lover for two years.

ABBA: Behind The Blonde (C4 Tuesday, 10pm) was a low rent, cut-and-shut documentary, yet it was fascinating.

The show, which featured a recent and rare interview with Faltskg and the creepy van der Graaf, had two aims:

a) To prove how mad she was;

b) To sensationalise her involvement with van der Graaf.

And what evidence did they have to prove she was a soused herring short of a picnic?

She was afraid of flying (me too), she got a bit panicky in large crowds (me too), she missed her baby when she went to work (me too), and she didn't much relish being forced on stage with her ex-partner (well, who would?). So we're all mad, then.

But just as you're thinking, "poor cow, no wonder she wanted to get away from it all and curl up with an Ibsen", she hooks up with van der Graaf.

For years she ignored his pesky letters, but one day he told her he'd had a car accident and, pitying him, she met up with him. The deranged Dutchman managed to wangle his way into her affections and before you could say "pass the meatballs", they were a couple.

Eventually she realised she'd picked a wrong 'un and gave him the old heave ho, but, surprise, surprise, van the man refused to go quietly, and despite a restraining order and being temporarily banned from Sweden, he stalks her to this day.

That the tale of this talented yet tragic woman was punctuated throughout with endless classic dance-round-your-handbag ABBA tracks and footage of her at her pop peak, made it all the more difficult to swallow.

A bit like the grub served up by the astonishingly deluded "Alessandro", alleged chef and first victim of the new Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares (C4, Tuesday, 9pm).

Alessandro, real name Alex, loved the idea of being a chef, particularly an Italian one, regardless of the fact that he hailed from the gourmet capital that is Letchworth and appeared to have zero cooking skills.

Undeterred, he managed to get himself a restaurant and a flash motor with a personalised number plate that read A1 CHEF.

This from a man who embraced boil-in-the-bag sauces, frozen veg, Pot Noodle and whose kitchen was manky enough to offend a sewer rat. Needless to say, what emerged from la cucina de Alessandro was about as Italian as Bernard Manning in a pair of Union Jack underpants, and our Gordon had plenty to say about it, all very amusing but little of which can be repeated in this fine family organ.

But among all his macho effing and blinding, I couldn't help but notice that the craggy-faced menu maestro seems to have an obsession with men's, erm, bits.

You may recall in the original Hell's Kitchen, Ramsay was forever referring to the down-belows of his sainted maitre'd, the charming and unflappable Jean Pierre, telling him his weren't big enough, that he didn't have any, etc, etc.

This time round it was the admittedly hopeless maitre d', the gormless Gavin's family jewels that were on Gordon's mind.

Pointing to a big pile of profiteroles, Ramsay bellowed in his face that if he wanted to succeed in the restaurant business he'd need balls the size of them.

Tune in next week to test out my theory, and prepare to chuckle if someone produces a bunch of coconuts.

PS... Big Brother 6. This Friday. Don't anyone dare phone Gibson Towers after 9pm!