THERE can be little doubt that Jonathan Ross has been an extremely able chat show host. All the same, he has only one gag - shock - and at £6 million a year in public money, I can't help think that it's all wearing a little thin.

We all know that Michael Parkinson ultimately degenerated into being an embarrassing sycophant with nothing new to say, let alone ask.

But it increasingly appears as if the young pretender is also making the same journey down Cliché Street.

The problem with Parkinson was a fatal combination of dew-eyed deference and naivety. The occasion he expressed mild amazement after vintage rocker Rod Stewart told him he didn't read music was a perfect example.

Well, there's a surprise - I also understand that the late lamented bluesman John Lee Hooker didn't attend the Yazoo City Academy of Arts, either.

This kind of stuff always makes you cringe in your boots but it's the sort of crassness one expected from Parky. However, Ross has also had his moments, too such as the time when he told Cate Blanchett that he couldn't understand why people liked Bob Dylan.

Now, I fully understand why Mr Zimmerman is not to everyone's taste, but that doesn't mean to say the opposite view should be a mystery.

Maybe the urge to constantly wisecrack is now having a serious effect on Ross's imagination.

The thing about Jonathan Ross - and indeed anyone who is clearly head over heels in love with himself - is that no one else ever really gets a look-in.

It wouldn't surprise me if he had just a large mirror instead of an autocue, so that the beloved one is never in danger of slipping from sight.

And as for Four Poofs and a piano well, this is a clear example of orientation discrimination. Rudimentary musical skills such as theirs would hold no appeal whatsoever if they were hetero to a man. Once again, it's another manifestation of Ross's schoolboy humour.

My guess is that the escalating cost of such corn will ultimately prove to be Ross's downfall - and then the most expensive speech impediment in history will be nothing but a memory.