Starters' orders

I USED to like University Challenge. It's not something I admit very often, especially when pretty girls are nearby. But I did quite like it. It was the wisdom I admired. All those ludicrously hard questions about classics, or opera, or weather systems in the South Sandwich Islands.

How did all these people, no older than me, have all this fantastic knowledge? They were geniuses. I was actually a little bit in love.

So then, when I studied politics at the University of Nottingham, my chance came. I applied for the team. Well, I do know all the capital cities of Europe. And every Arsenal result since I was born. And I always get to £32,000 on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?

But then, when I turned up to audition, there was something wrong. It was full of old people. Middle-aged doctors doing PhDs, talking about Beethoven, and chemistry, and the Old Testament. These people aren't students, I thought. They're pensioners. I was knackered.

I then realised that, more often than not, University Challenge "students" are all about 48. The contestants have more letters after their name than in it. It's barely any different from Brain of Britain or Mastermind.

The solution, of course, is an age limit. Under 25s only. Jeremy Paxman could make sure no one slipped through the net.

"Starter for ten: How old are you?" "21." "OK, here are your bonus questions. What is your date of birth? What day of the week were you born on? Have you got any ID?"

Or, perhaps, there could be a blanket ban on postgraduates. They could have a separate series. It could be called: "University Challenge For People Not Clever Enough To Make The Team When They Were 21."

Tonight, thankfully, the University of Aberystwyth and the University of Warwick are mostly undergraduates.

I wish I had gone there, instead of Nottingham.

Here's a starter for ten. What doesn't Peter Hitchens hate?

Answer: Nothing.

The Mail on Sunday columnist, who presents tonight's documentary, really does hate everything. Or so it seems.

Every Sunday, his highly-entertaining column lets rip on immigration. Or the European Union. Or Iraq. Or the BBC. He doesn't like Labour, he doesn't like the Lib Dems, and he doesn't like the BNP. He doesn't even like members of his own family.

Peter and his brother Christopher, also a journalist and author, fell out in 2001 over an article Peter wrote. The pair have since called an uneasy truce. But most of all, Peter Hitchens doesn't like the Tories. He really, really doesn't like the Tories.

In fact, he refers to them in his columns only as "the Useless Tories". The rotter.

Hitchens did, in fact, join the Conservatives in 1997. He even contested the party's nomination for the Kensington and Chelsea seat in 1999, but lost to Michael Portillo.

Only a few years later, he left the party in a huff. Well, he did get rejected for Michael Portillo. It's hardly a ringing endorsement.

In fact, the only thing Hitchens likes, I think, is making documentaries for Channel 4. He's done a few now, and they are always terrific. As long as you have a good pinch of salt to hand. Tonight, he picks on David Cameron. The Tory leader, Hitchens believes, is a fraud.

Hitchens examines Cameron's past as an apparently hard-line, traditional Conservative. That past is then compared to Cameron's present as a hoodie-hugging housewives' favourite. Cameron is still a Tory toff, Hitchens says, but is fooling the electorate. The Tories are trying to repeat the New Labour con, ten years on.

Hitchens' columns were once described as "molten Old Testament fury shot through with visceral wit". Tonight's documentary is pretty much the same. I wonder if Cameron will watch it. I bet he does. With a pillow over his eyes.

In fact, by the end he'll probably think: "Why didn't we just give him bloody Kensington and Chelsea in 1999?"