For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about here, 2010 is the year for you to get your Glee on. And maybe read a few magazines to keep abreast of what the kids are watching these days. One of the most anticipated TV series in years, the US export, probably best described as a Mean Girls come High School Musical hybrid, is a musical comedy set at William McKinley High School. There are the jocks (a shame that the high school quarterbacks at my school didn't look like that), the geeks and the blonde cheerleaders, but far from subscribing to the archetypal clique cliche, the one thing they ultimately all have in common is their singing. Their glee, if you like, for glee.

Admittedly, the show's formula might not sound instantly appealing, but last night's UK debut on E4 pulled in more than 1.3 million viewers to the channel - triple its usual figure for a Monday night - and covered everything from Journey's Don't Stop Believing (see below) to Kanye West's Gold Digger. Oh, and followng the ensuing media storm news has reached our shores that Oliva Newton-John will have a recurring guest role in the newly commissioned second series. If that doesn't grab you...

Forgive my headline. Initially it might seem as non-pc and insensitive as a passing school corridor comment, but what I mean to refer to is the triumph of the redhead. News has reached my ears this week of top model (pictured) Karen Elson's latest campaign, and boy is it a good'un. As the new face of cult label St. John, the flame haired super's profile is fast becoming as high as the stage from which she fell at 2009's British Fashion Awards, but even better is who she's replacing; Angelina Jolie. 

After three years with St. John, CEO Glenn McMahon has amitted that the actress 'overshadowed the brand'. Ouch. He went on to add "We wanted to make a clean break from actresses and steer away from blondes and cleanse the palette". Ouch. A small step for wronged women everywhere, a giant step for redheads.

Celebrity Big Brother is upon us once again with its seventh and final series, and if you'll pardon the pun, oh Goody. It's only day 3 and already I'm tired of the endless news coverage and infinite column inches devoted to one of the most embarrassing national past times of the Nougties (oh wait, can i say that now we've entered a new decade?) Admittedly bagging Vinnie Jones for the series finale must have had the Endemol boses jumping for joy, but other than that this year's cast is as predictably grey as ever. Alec Baldwin' crackpot Bible bashing brother Stephen joins Jones to represent LaLa land in, er, style, while Ronnie Wood's Eastern European bit on the side probably guarantees at least one extra viewer in the shape of his ex-missus.

Best of all, the pitting of cauliflower faced cage fighter Alex Reid against fellow silicone fanatic Dane Bowers does not, as far as I'm concerned, make for terrific viewing given the negative IQ of both contestants, but rather confirms Katie Price's universal grasp on the nation's conscience following her disastrous appearance on I'm A Celebrity late last year. Something which I'm sure, as the truly patriotic Brits we all are in these times of crisis, we should be toasting over a bottle of Lambrini. Oh, and while we're at it, perhaps the Tories should consider making her their new postergirl. After all, who would you rather look at as the snow comes down?

As if further proof were needed that US Vogue's Editor in Chief need finaly step down, the magazine's January 2010 cover seems to want to usher in the new decade with nostalgia. Harking back almost to the days of Anna Wintour's youth, a time when housewives everywhere would long for perfectly coiffed hair and a neatly buttoned cardigan, Hollywood sweetheart Rachel McAdams resembles what can only be described as the American Dream's First Lady. It's not that I have a problem with the seemingly idealistic concept behind the styling, or indeed the choice of the printed silk Dolce & Gabbana S/S 2010 ensemble. It's more the accompanying coverline, referring to her latest role in Guy Ritchie's interpretation of Sherlock Holmes, which reads 'Mean Girl to Sexy Sleuth'. Is the aforementioned nod to suburban living circa 1950 somehow embodying a supposedly feminist, and in Wintour's own words I hasten to add, sexy sleuth? Do spies run around sporting pink lipstick and some serious ear bling? I think not. Come on Ms. Wintour, must try harder.

As far as I can recall, the Christmas season should be filled with much mulled wine quaffing, mince pie munching and general good will to all mankind. So when self-righteous employees of certain air and trainlines decide that their worker's rights are more important than the entire population's festive happiness at this time of year, it does not a very merry Christmas make.

Whilst I can understand the motive behind British Airways cabin crew staff voting to strike for twelve days over the Christmas period (job cuts and contractual clauses incidentally) I can't move beyond the blatant selfishness of such a choice. Like it or not, this is oftentime the one chance families have to be reunited, and whatever their quibbles with Mr Willie Walsh, can't they go for a time of year that is just, well, a little bit more low key?

Add to that the fact that Eurostar drivers have now announced they'll be striking this coming Friday and Saturday over pay disputes, and we're pretty much transported back to the days when travelling on a ship was the only option. Let's just hope we're not forced to ride the Titanic. BA might still be waiting on a High Court Judge's decision to put an end to their cabin crew's antics, but I'll be damned if I will. It's called utilitarianism people. Look it up.

Another year, another X Factor final grips the nation. But besides the fact that all Saturday night television from now until September next year will pale in comparison for us punters, the big bosses at ITV must really be looking forward to Christmas. Why? Maybe it's to do with the 10 million plus viewers who voted over the weekend to choose their 2009 winner, maybe it's to do with the expertly handled prime time scheduling whereby both live finals were sandwiched between fellow X Factor judge Cheryl Cole's 'Night In' and a This is Your Life style program charting the meteoric rise of Britain's Got Talent singing sensation Susan Boyle.

Or maybe it's to do with the fact that Mr Simon Cowell has managed to so heavily PR what remains the equivalent of a Butlins karaoke show, that ITV were selling 30 second ad slots during the live finals for £250,000 a pop. Which means every time Dermot-I'm always chirpy I am-O'Leary winked his wink and told us he'd see us on the other side, ITV bosses were pocketing about £1.5 million. Lord knows what percentage makes it into Cowell's bank account by the end of it, but now that the music  mogul has reportedly requested an increased budget for next year's show (I'm not sure how many more fireworks I can handle actually) I can't imagine anyone saying no. Quite the opposite in fact. It looks like Cowell's turning the clock back to the days of the high-waisted trouser wearing, cigar smoking, moobs displaying fat cats who sit round a poker table somewhere in Soho discussing their plans to take over the world. Did I mention he's in talks to launch the X Factor in Las Vegas with rotund retail guru Sir Philip Green? Ah. Point proven then.

Too good to ignore this week, the lead coverline of Golf Digest's January issue reads "10 tips Obama can take from Tiger". Genius.

The Times's Caitlin Moran had a thing or two to say about Katie Price, aka Jordan. My favourite part? "She’s scarcely a black lesbian physicist wearing slacks in Alabama in 1932."

And finally, London mayor Boris Johnson's clearly got his priorities in order. "When it comes to protecting our chocolate – the taste of British childhood – then we turn and fight." Of course we do, life just wouldn't be the same without Cadbury's would it BoJo.

Kleenex's latest TV commercial campaign, shot by the renowned Rankin, is one of my favourites at the moment. And this time round, not only have they decided to continue with their hugely successful payoff line 'let it out', but they've also enlisted the help of a diverse mix of celebrities; an ageing rocker famed for his political activism, a pint sized popstar hailing from one of the most successful girl bands of all time, and an ex England football manager best known for sporadic sexual dalliances with fellow Swede Ulrika Jonsson.

Whilst we're all familiar with the power of celebrity endorsement when it comes to selling products, the concept behind Kleenex's casting of Bob Geldof, Emma Bunton and Sven Goran Eriksson is truly innovative. Who would have thought that the things that make you or I laugh or cry might also affect the lives of the rich and famous? Geldof laughs in the face of stern-browed businessmen everywhere, Bunton shakes off the infantile epithet of her Spice Girl days as she rocks out in private, and Sven's childhood dreams of sporting athleticism are at once scuppered and fully realised in one moment as he scores the winning goal with a screwed up tissue. 

For me, the power of this campaign lies in its unashamed voyeurism; we are privy to the deepest thoughts and feelings of the very same public figures that hold their privacy so dear to them. Targeting typically hard-to-reach demographics with its universal appeal, this is advertising at its best.

The most memorable highlight from last night's British Fashion Awards, besides supermodel Karen Elson's spectacular disappearing act as she sashayed onstage to present US Vogue's Grace Coddington with the Isabella Blow Award for Fashion Creator of the year, was Burberry's double whammy. 

After September's news that the luxury British brand was joining the FTSE 100 following massive growth in its 2009 retail revenue, creative director Christopher Bailey (pictured above) was not only crowned Designer of the Year, but also picked up the highly covetable Designer Brand of the Year award for the fashion house. 

Yes, this is the same Christopher Bailey who was made an MBE just last week. This is the same Christopher Bailey who stole the closing show of London Fashion Week with his star-studded front row and triumphant S/S 2010 return to the capital. And yes, this is the same Christopher Bailey who chose last night to announce Burberry Prorsum's A/W 2010 show will again take place in the LDN next February. World domination beckons.