Why scary and sweary Jo Brand will NEVER blub for the cameras: CHRISTOPHER STEVENS reviews last night's TV

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Jo Brand's Hell Of A Walk

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Speed: F1 Special 

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Never was there a more noble cause. ‘I’m doing this,’ declared Jo Brand, strapping on her boots for her Hell Of A Walk (BBC1), ‘on behalf of all the portly, middle-aged women in the country who need to get up off their bums so they can live to bicker with their husbands a bit longer.’

She certainly wasn’t embarking on her hike across England on the Pennine Trail for the usual reason that celebs torture themselves on camera — to get their faces on the telly. Much of the time, the BBC crew seemed so scared of her that they kept a safe distance and filmed in long-shot.

And she wasn’t doing it to make friends. When members of the public trotted up to introduce themselves and take a selfie, Jo greeted them through gritted teeth, and grumbled in a continuous mutter of swearwords as soon as they were gone.

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‘I’m doing this,’ declared Jo Brand, strapping on her boots for her Hell Of A Walk (BBC1), ‘on behalf of all the portly, middle-aged women in the country who need to get up off their bums so they can live to bicker with their husbands a bit longer'

Even her fellow comedians, who joined the walk here and there to keep her company, soon backed off before they got their heads bitten off. ‘I think I’ve done something to upset her,’ said a worried Alan Davies, banished to walk at least 100 yards ahead of Jo. He looked like a husband who knows he is in the doghouse but can’t work out why.

It appeared her motive really was the best. She cursed every aching muscle at every step on the seven-day, 135-mile march from Hull to Liverpool, but by the time the show was broadcast she had already raised £850,000 for Sport Relief.

As a former psychiatric nurse, whose father had suffered from chronic depression (‘Bless him, but he wasn’t a bundle of laughs,’ she said), she was particularly keen to emphasise that some of the money she raised would go towards mental health charities in Britain such as Mind.

But there was a limit to what she was prepared to do for donations. The producer was urging her to get tearful: the more a celeb cries, apparently, the more viewers hand over their cash. ‘I’m not going to f****** cry,’ snarled Jo.

She had reason enough, if she’d wanted. The gales on the Pennines, in a constant torrent of rain, were bad enough to overturn HGV lorries, and they blew Jo off her feet more than once. She soldiered on, though.

It was in her blood, she said: her parents met at a Young Socialists’ ramblers club. Now there’s a pocket of English life that has disappeared . . . like people picnicking on roundabouts and convoys of green caravans trundling towards Skegness campsites, you don’t see a lot of socialist ramblers on the public footpaths nowadays.

The Great British understatement is another vanishing art, though it lives on with TT motorbike racer Guy Martin. Talking to F1 driver David Coulthard about safety, he conceded he had taken a few tumbles, but ‘nothing major’.

That isn’t strictly true. The last time he came off his superbike, doing 170mph at the Ulster Grand Prix, he broke his back. And his hand, sternum and several ribs. He’s lucky to be walking, never mind getting back on two wheels to challenge Coulthard to a series of tests, in Speed: F1 Special (C4).

The show was geared to promoting the new F1 season, which will be shown on Channel 4 for the first time this year. There wasn’t much suspense about the challenges: it was obvious the car was going to emerge the winner. F1’s highly touchy publicists would hardly agree to a documentary that claimed bikes were better.

On this showing, shy Guy (right) and suave Dave (left) would make an excellent Top Gear pairing. They were madly competitive, they know and love their engines, and nobody got punched

For viewers who are not obsessed with torque and traction, the interest lay in watching two presenters, meeting for the first time, who were tipped as Top Gear hosts before Chris Evans took over.

Few observers expect Evans to last long. Every rumour says he’s been just about impossible to work with, even before last weekend’s debacle at the Cenotaph.

On this showing, shy Guy and suave Dave would make an excellent Top Gear pairing. They were madly competitive, they know and love their engines, and nobody got punched.

Chris Evans’s replacements are already on the starting grid.