Whether it's a bottle of Champagne we can't really afford; regular mani-pedis at a fancy salon or something as simple (but delicious) as eating Nutella straight from the jar – they're all sneaky treats that for one reason or another we'd rather not admit to in public.

I only really indulge in one of the above but I do have another secret hobby.

Ladies and gentlemen of Leeds – My name is Debbie Leigh and I'm addicted to the TV show Come Dine With Me.

I discovered it at the gym on a rare weekday off when it just happened to be on the screens in the changing rooms.

Prime-time

Back then it was only on during the daytime so catching it was always an unexpected bonus.

Now it's in a prime-time slot (Thursdays, Channel 4, 8pm) so it's practically unmissable, and on top of that, with on-demand TV I can watch all the previous episodes whenever I like – which adds up to around 100 hours of delicious snack-sized viewing.

For anyone who's never seen it – you've never lived.

Of course I'm not so sad as to actually mean that but it is one of the unsung heroes of reality TV. It's kind of a halfway house between the hideousness that is Big Brother and the gloriousness of The Apprentice.

Four people take turns to cook for each other, each holding dinner parties at their homes and aiming to be crowned the host with the most to scoop £1,000.

As you might imagine, the producers don't just pick four decent sorts who are all really good at cooking.

They generally pick a bunch of opinionated wackos, with conflicting views on issues like fox hunting and witchcraft.

And just like X-Factor and Britain's Got Talent, where deluded performers think they're the next Mariah Carey or Michael Jackson, these contestants believe they're God's gift to gastronomy but can't tell tagliatelle from taramasalata.

Despite the fact they're competing for a cash prize, a disproportionate number attempt to cook something they've never made before – with predictably disastrous, hilarious consequences.

And rivalry just seems to bring out the worst in people.

From the aristocratic bore who delights in shooting and plucking his own pheasants and lecturing guests on the history of Veuve Clicquot, to the obnoxious politician who gets sozzled and starts quizzing his host about his sexuality, to the white-haired old man whose greedy cat snaffles his fishy canapés – it's like Little Britain meets Ready Steady Cook in Hell's Kitchen.

Sarcastic

The icing on the cake is the sarcastic narrator who cuts each character down to size from behind the scenes while keeping viewers up to speed as the wannabe chefs narrowly avoid poisoning each other.

Not only that, we also get to snoop around each host's house, peeking at all their tacky ornaments and dreadful décor.

It's voyeurism at its best.

I've now realised CDWM shouldn't remain a guilty pleasure for the lucky few, it should be shared generously and sampled by as many viewers as possible.

It's one of the most delicious treats on the box.


Putting my feet first...


I'm planning to live on air and water alone for the next month.

Not only because for the first time in my life I'm too embarrassed to be seen in a bikini – but because I'm saving up for this summer's must-have accessory – a pair of to-die-for gladiator sandals, as spotted in Grazia.

I've already got my eye on the perfect pair and thankfully now my favourite shop in the world – the uber-cool Urban Outfitters – has finally opened in Leeds I won't have to drive
to Manchester to get them.

It's just a shame that as usual we're one step behind our rivals across the Pennines.


A double date at the movies

Last week I mentioned how my mates had made me promise not to see the Sex and the City film until they returned from their jollies and we could all go together.

I've had a few dumbfounded responses over my unwavering loyalty but one reader made me laugh out loud (lol) with her letter.

She confessed she had made the same vow to her BF but had secretly been to see the movie with another pal and was then going to sit through it a second time with her BF, pretending it was the first time.

She said she didn't feel guilty as she knew she would still enjoy it and would also have the satisfaction of knowing she's been "a good supportive friend to two very important people".

That's what I love about being a girl – we can justify anything!


Eyes down for Harry's game


I'm planning on cultivating a serious gambling habit after hearing some rather fabulous news.

A study of the country's online bingo players has found the luckiest name is Debbie when it comes to scooping those lovely cash jackpots.

Bizarrely, the company referred to the name as that made famous by Blondie star Debbie Harry, rather than that of YEP columnist Debbie Leigh.

Ah well, you win some you lose some.