DAY 17 in the outback and professional grump Lucy Pargeter has a gift of a question over a fried-eel supper.

“Does anyone else’s mouth feel like they’ve just sucked a battery?”

There could be only one reply: “No, that’s your natural expression, love.”

Yet not one of the campmates had the wit to deliver it.

That’s I’m a Celebrity... Get Me Out Of Here! series 13 in a nutshell, the third dismally under-achieving year in a row for the second best reality show on television, behind The Apprentice.

Instead of nightly brilliance it’s been a three-week barney about concealer (whatever that is), chewing gum and fem wipes (whatever they are).

Any prospect of the camp erupting was scuppered, alas, by a TV golden rule you’d think this show knew inside out.

A well-fed camp is a happy camp.

A happy camp is a dull camp.

There’s no denying it’s had its moments.

Ant and Dec have worked their socks off to carry this series, although they should have made much more of their hysterical Matthew Wright impression.

Alfonso Ribeiro blowing his fuse will never get tired: “ENOUGH, MATTHEW. OK. ENOUGH!”

And Laila Morse’s highly personal exit interview (“It’s made me a better person”) was a rare treasure, along with her trial where a cold-blooded, hideous beast... let a crocodile lay on top of her for one minute.

But the truth is I’d rather watch Steve “Stumble” Davis’ pre-bushtucker trial pratfall into the pond on a loop than sit through another 90 minutes of slurry-laden daily highlights, least of all the dreary Dingo Dollar Challenges with the Kiosk Keith obsession.

ITV need to hold up their hands and admit they got the casting atrociously wrong.

Sick note Rebecca Adlington shouldn’t have been there if she couldn’t do any trials, the spiteful bitching about Amy Willerton by women twice her age was unpleasant, not entertaining and there simply weren’t enough characters.

Matthew Wright, a poor man’s David Van Day, departed before he could perfect his mash-up impression of Compo from Last of the Summer Wine with the lunatic eyes of The Shining’s Jack Torrance.

He did at least try to stir it up, suggesting a tools-down protest that the one from Westlife refused to join, prompting the immortal words from Wright: “That’s what’s happened to industrial relations in this country. Scabs like you.”

A sentiment delivered to an Irishman in the Australian jungle, so which country he was referring to I’m not sure.

The immunity tokens twist served only to protect the quietest in camp from the chop.

Wednesday’s e-mails from home backfired spectacularly when everyone won their message.

Ribeiro’s Carlton dance was no Ashley Robert’s Don’t Cha routine.

And smart cookie Joey Essex repeatedly blew his own cover by exposing his thicko front as fake.

So I’ll return to Lucy Pargeter, still chewing over her foul fried-eel supper, to conclude I’m A Celebrity XIII.

“It’s a bit pants, really.”

This week’s Couch Potato Spudulikes...

Sky Sports’ Mosconi Cup.

The One Show’s Japanese PoW “Railway Man” feature.

Frank Skinner invoking the spirit of Whose Line Is It Anyway? on Sky Atlantic improvisation show Set List: Stand Up Without a Net.

Get-fit Dev’s behind-the-counter “walking workstation” treadmill on Corrie.

And Newsnight asking world memory champion Jonas von Essen to recall its end credits in order, and failing spectacularly: “The production team consists of... erm... it’s, erm... in order it’s, erm... Jake, erm...”

Paxman: “No that’s not the first one.”

Unforgettable.

This week’s Couch Potato Spuduhates...

Mark Benton’s Strictly departure.

X Factor viewers booting out Tamera before Luke Friend.

The Now That's What I Call Christmas album omitting Stay Another Day, the Doritos advert Mexican band version.

Keith Lemon references slipping into ITV’s entire output, from X Factor’s Nicole Scherzinger mimicking his Louis Walsh impression (“Potato!”) to Joey Essex confusing him with I’m A Celebrity’s Kiosk Keith.

EastEnder Bianca’s Tardis of a house with 10 residents that seems set only to rise from what cabbie Tel was saying of his ex Nikki: “Tropical beach in a lovely sunny country or a sleeping bag in Walford? Which one do you think your mum’s going to go for?”

(25 minutes later...) Ding-dong! “Nikki. What are you doing here?”

And Carla and Peter’s bile-rising bespoke wedding vows on Corrie.

You can shove your “old Apache blessing” up your reservation, pal.