WITH my three-year-old now at playgroup, I have the dubious pleasure of catching up with daytime TV while pounding away on tortuous pieces of equipment at the gym a few mornings a week.

And I have been plunged, headlong into an incredible, sordid netherworld. The problem is Trisha, the British version of the popular American Oprah discussion show, is always on when I'm there. And an hour at the gym is so boring, I would happily watch a fly crawling over the screen to while away the time.

The bizarre tales, freakish participants and fantastically messed-up lives paraded on Trisha are intriguing at first. Where do these people come from and why do they expose themselves to such ridicule? If you thought this was the sort of thing only Americans did, think again.

One recent story featured a girl pregnant by her fianc's father. The fianc, fresh out of prison, arrived for a studio showdown with dad.

Then his mother appeared, accusing the father of letting the family down. The dad, in turn, accused mum of having affairs while he was in prison years earlier.

And this was one of the more normal families. On Trisha, people are rarely faithful. Most programmes revolve around exposing deceit or discovering who the father of a particular child may be.

Trisha regularly uses lie detectors and DNA testing to arrive at the answers, revealing the results to those involved in front of cameras, studio audience and we, the viewers-turned-voyeurs.

This is pure, unadulterated cruelty, dressed up as entertainment. How can anyone justify pointing cameras at a devoted father who has raised a child he believed was his own, as Trisha rips open an envelope containing the DNA test results which could signal the collapse of his world? This week, one girl, accused of lying to her boyfriend, was even persuaded to do a pregnancy test in the studio.

Some might argue these sorry members of the public - dim exhibitionists, desperate to appear on telly - are asking for it. But that is exactly what the show's makers exploit.

They treat their victims like performing seals, then make out they are actually trying to help them, stressing there are counsellors on hand to provide advice afterwards.

There is also a side room participants can rush to if it all becomes too much to bear - but even this is fitted with cameras so we can still watch them blubbing.

This was where a particularly forlorn figure spent most of one show this week. A closet transvestite, he was dressed as a woman in public for the first time to reveal the truth to his unsuspecting parents.

But then he lost his nerve and sat with his back to the cameras. He eventually emerged in dress, wig and make-up, waving triumphantly, to tremendous applause.

All I could think of was his poor mum and dad. What a way to find out your son was not the person you thought he was. Trisha stressed, in a particularly caring voice, there were counsellors on hand to help.

For me, this is the final straw. I have had enough, can't take any more, I'm desperate. Trisha, I need help...