I’M ashamed to say I let out a little squeak of glee at the start of the latest series of Celebrity Masterchef.

Not just because I love Masterchef, although I do, but because when the introductory blurb came up at the beginning of the first episode, I thought I spotted Christopher Biggins.

I know that’s more than a tiny bit tragic, but Biggins is one of Salisbury’s own, so we have to cheer him on whenever we can.

It’s like being obliged to support England at the World Cup, but with less chance of heart-breaking disillusionment.

It helps that he’s always irrepressibly cheerful and entertaining (unlike our football team).

And he’s far more likely to pop up at Salisbury events than the city’s other famous sons, the Fiennes brothers – who are a bit less panto, a bit more Hollywood.

So I settled happily on the sofa to find out if our Biggins would prove to be as successful in the kitchen as he was in the jungle.

Only to be bitterly disappointed when he turned out to be Russell Grant.

“It’s an easy mistake to make,” I told myself. “Besides, Russell Grant seems like a nice bloke, and it’s not his fault he doesn’t come from Salisbury.”

So I put the upset aside and enjoyed the show anyway.

But I’d forgotten that they have a different set of celebrities each week, facing each other in groups to be whittled down to quarter finalists before they come up against the other teams – it really is remarkably like the footy when you think about it.

And, lo and behold, a few weeks later up popped Biggins. He wasn’t Russell Grant after all!

He proceeded to approach the competition in his own inimitable style without a hint of the nerves that seem to beset most of those taking part in Masterchef, celebrity or not.

Faced with the daunting task of serving up 105 portions of food to hungry students at the Royal College of Music, instead of panicking and messing up his meringues, he and his fellow contestants were having a fine old time.

Dolling out portions of ‘mushrooms with cheese on’ - to which pasta was hurriedly added on receipt of a withering look from judge John Torode - Biggins happily chatted away with no sign of any sense of propriety.

“Are you a couple?” he bellowed at one embarrassed looking pair. “You are? Oh good! We’ll do the wedding!”

And we may have something to cheer us up after the barely-started-and-it’s-finished anticipation of the football and then the tennis – because, jolly japes aside, it seems Biggins might actually be able to cook a decent jus or two.