TV review, Grand Designs: House of the Year (Channel 4): When minimalism is just too much

Property porn, still legal, I’m afraid, whether in print, digital or video format usually has a deeply unsettling effect on me, a mixture of deep envy and queasiness at the obscene amounts of money lavished (ie wasted) on the conspicuous consumption of the wealthy. That, I think, is why I’ve never cared that much for Grand Designs, despite the unpretentious charm and knowledge of its host, Kevin McCloud, and the sometimes spectacular displays of exquisite taste that we are treated to. It’s also beautifully photographed and engagingly put together as it follows the Royal Institute of British Architect's shortlisting of the residential property build of the year. For what is, in essence, a real estate version of The Apprentice it is all very sensitively executed and the rococo excitements of guessing who the winner might be rather well supported by a solid flying buttress of middle-class British reserve. (Not a structurally sound metaphor, I know, but all I could manage, guv).

So I don’t want to come over all Jeremy Corbyn about what I suppose we must now call “lifestyle” television, but I cannot help it. This year more than most, I would have thought that, what with all the coverage e of the housing crisis and the plight of the millennials dominating public discourse and dinner party conversations, the RIBA might have shown a bit more care in their choice House of The Year 2017. But, no they were, with their traditional tin ear (or maybe that should be modernist tin ear) for public opinion and an arrogance that you’d think must be some sort of professional entry qualification to design permanent structures in the United Kingdom.

Thus, they chose Caring Wood, which looks like something out of a Dr Seuss book, all random pointiness and witches’ hat peaks, the higgledy-piggledy scarlet buildings sticking out of the countryside at curious angles. Apparently designed for occupation by three generations of what, I assume, is an especially well-heeled dynasty in Kent with Pharoanic delusions, it’s set in 84 acres of ancient woodland and is larger than most council estates. It’s all traditional materials, its asymmetric shapes and colours inspired by old Kent oasthouses, and rendered with some chutzpah, I must say, by James Macdonald Wright and Niall Maxwell. It will never, I suggest, qualify for the Help to Buy scheme, and I just found the whole spectacle deeply demoralising.

I doubt that the rival entry “Hidden House”, a one-story dwelling tucked away on a tiny plot on a former school yard in central London, would be within reach of most first-time buyers either, but at least this was showing some invention and ingenuity entirely focussed on today’s cramped times. In this case the architects and builders had shown an extraordinary combination of craftsmanship and imagination to create a living space on the site of an old caretaker’s shed. It was minimalist, yes, but there was an obvious point to its minimalism. However, like so many of the other homes on display there seemed an obsession with hiding away all the untidiness and detritus of life behind great big oak screens. Architecture is designed to stand the test of time, and so I wonder what a future generation will make of our paranoia about having a stranger accidentally encounter a pair of discarded socks or some Lego in our beautiful show homes.

These houses, as McCloud noted, resembled galleries or museums, not lived-in homes. It is not healthy. Perhaps the British have succumbed in their obsession with real estate to some sort of property mental plague, a disease on such a scale that only a truly violent housing crash could cure it. There’s a Grand Design for you.

When Jo Brand burst grumpily into the national comedy consciousness she was known for being one of the first militantly feminist comedians (not “comediennes” – she made sure of that). Her speciality was in making jokes about men, menstruation and cakes. She was, unlike some of her right-on contemporaries, what you might call “openly funny”, and did her bit for women's rights and gender equality - though not enough yet. For example, On Have I Got News for You recently she had to remind the all-boy panels that unacceptable sexual harassment is in fact precisely what it has always been – unacceptable sexual harassment. A fine display of “womansplaining”, that.

Well, Jo Brand’s Cats and Kittens isn’t exactly central to the Jo Brand brand and the feminist mission, but no matter. For the very, very many cat fans out there of every gender there’s lots of lots of cute felines being very cute, including the 105 being cared for by one devoted cat lady. (She spends £12,000 a year on cat food and £40,000 on vets’ bills. No further comment). I especially enjoyed a YouTube video from America of a runaway kitten rescued by a biker on a busy intersection. We were told that the cat now lives with his rescuer, who has named him “Skidmark”, a line delivered with an impeccably seriousness by the ever-professional Brand.

There. Not too catty, was I?