Kirstie's Crafty Christmas, Channel 4, review With the economy wobbly, wages low and debt rising, a home-made Christmas is a sensible idea. And who better to tell us how than that well-known woman of the people, The Honourable Kirstie Allsopp, once described by this very newspaper as "the poshest person on TV"? If anyone knows about tight budgets, it's millionaire Kirstie. Kirstie's Crafty Christmas (Channel 4) showed how to make your own food, drinks. decorations and gifts. I can't think of any of my family or friends who'd fancy unwrapping a bag of "artisan popcorn" or bottle of "pine needle syrup" on the big day. Maybe I need to swap my family and friends for ones more like Kirstie's. Her promises of "high-impact crafts" in "super-quick time" and "cheap as chips" didn't stand up to scrutiny. Tie-dyed days-of-the-week knickers were supposed to be a simple, thrifty idea. All you needed were, let's see, seven pairs of pants, seven large bowls, seven packs of dye, a work area the size of Wales and a day or two to faff around, holding pants up to the light and cooing. This was Blue Peter with a fat bank balance and a braying laugh. Her idea for a neon star decoration was equally practical. Anyone could do it! Well, provided you have access to floorboards salvaged from a stately home in Suffolk, a massive stencil, jewels, paints, a glue gun and a professional glassblower. Kirstie's Devon pile was all gleaming white surfaces, sweeping staircases, roaring fires and rows of flickering church candles. No wonder she was so breathless and excited. Everything was "amaaaayzing" or "my favourite thing ever." The word "literally" was abused to within literally an inch of its life. Christmas was "Chrimbo." Decorations were "decs." All the abbreviations were a bit "noying." Her "kitsch Hawaiian-Indian Christmas tree" looked like it had been trimmed by sugar-crazed toddlers. In the dark. Her red velvet cheesecake contained so much butter, cream, cheese and chocolate that viewers were recommended to seek an angiogram just for looking at it. Her cocktail comprised Somerset cider brandy (£30 a bottle), Dorset milk vodka (another £30), Kirstie's own bottled apple juice (you have an orchard too, right?) and a dash of that ever-present pine needle syrup. Still, you'd need a strong cocktail or seven to tolerate Kirstie's climactic festive bash. This crafty party was intended to sell us the lifestyle dream. Instead, it looked like a load of smug people sipping pine drinks that smell like domestic cleaning products and congratulating each other on making a career out of this twee twaddle.