It is a precious hour of tranquillity, this vision of talented people giving their best, taking the job seriously but without being ridiculously overinvested or intense. The retention of perspective is rapidly become the most appealing thing about these shows.

McSweeney fast proved herself more than up for the presenting gig, exuding the perfect blend of warmth and wit along with the requisite command of Bake Off-inspired innuendo. However, it was less clear as to whether the show was worthy of McSweeney. Throw Down tends towards the eye-rollingly saccharine.

The judge Keith Brymer Jones wept over the cheese sets and port chalices, while throwing the crap ones in a bucket. The contestants also wept. It's a wonder their clay ever dried out.

There is no drama involved, unless you count judge Keith Brymer Jones bursting into tears at the sight of the first pot. The contestants cried too. I didn’t cry, perhaps because my mind kept drifting back to Pooch Perfect and wondering whether there are any more sub-Bake Off ideas left once you’ve stooped to dog haircuts.