You know what organised religion needs? More power and influence. Thank God, then, that Channel 4 are on hand to give it the helping hand it so desperately requires in the form of Make Me A Christian (Sun, 7pm, C4), a spiritual makeover show in which four hardcore Goddites attempt to convert a rag-tag band of sinners into full-blown Jesus freaks in just three weeks.

In true oversimplified TV-conflict tradition, it's a clash of absurd extremities. The Christians, for instance, consist of an evangelical preacher, a lady vicar, a Catholic priest and - very much heading up the pack - the Reverend George Hargreaves, founder of Operation Christian Vote, and the Christian Party, and the Scottish Christian Party, and the Welsh Christian Party. If it's Christian and a Party, chances are George is its figurehead. He scatters Christian joy like a muckspreader flings shit: indiscriminately and everywhere.

Said Christians are pitted against a group of volunteers containing the following widely representative social types: a lesbian schoolteacher, a tattooed militant atheist biker, a white Muslim convert, a boozing fannyhound who claims to have slept with over 150 women, and a lapdancing witch. Nice work, C4. I'm sure we can all learn from this. Let battle commence.

Following a trip to York Minster, George hands each of the volunteers a Bible. The word "Bible", he tells them, stands for "Basic Instruction Before Leaving Earth". He instructs them to read it every day. This makes the atheist biker kick off, so George graciously talks over him until he walks out.

The group seems pleased to see biker boy go. After all, what's the point of participating if you're not prepared to learn? As William (the Muslim convert) says, "Step one to learning is silence, and step two is listening." Step three, presumably, is absolute cocksucking obedience - or it would be if cocksucking wasn't a sin.

Almost any form of sex is a sin. Take Fay, the occult lapdancer. George takes one look at her lifestyle (spangly bras and tarot cards) and announces she's "on a trajectory to hell". Sobbing, Fay slinks away to her boyfriend's house for a few days of comforting. When she emerges later, George bollocks her for having sex outside marriage. "While the world might call it 'making love'," he says, "the Bible calls it fornication."

Fay's clearly unhappy and wracked with issues about her appearance, but you can't help wondering if introducing her to Gok Wan might've been a tad kinder.

Not that George and co would approve of Gok. After all, we get to see what they make of exuberant gayness when Pastor Wally (the evangelical preacher) commands Laura (the lesbian teacher) to remove all evidence of same-sex activity from her home. Her saucy party snaps, her books of Sapphic erotica - they have to go.

George agrees. His Christian Party takes a notably dim view on homosexuality. He says things like, "The ancient city of Sodom could have been saved, if only righteous people could be found," in its election broadcasts. And in 2006 he personally pledged £50,000 to assist the nine Scottish firefighters disciplined for refusing to hand out fire-safety leaflets at a gay parade.

Given that George also wrote and co-produced Sinitta's 1986 gay disco anthem So Macho (sample lyric: "I'm after a hunk of a guy, an experienced man of the world ... He's got to be so macho/He's got to be big and strong, enough to turn me on"), this is surprising. Still, he's a surprising guy. In 2007 he campaigned to have the iconic red dragon removed from the Welsh flag as it was "nothing less than the sign of Satan".

With his polarising views and divisive political campaigning, George is just the man to be fronting a makeover show, and the broadcast will doubtless be accompanied by the percussive sound of thousands of Christians enthusiastically smashing their foreheads against the wall with delight at the way they're represented. Still, let's not blame Channel 4. Let's forgive them. Just like Jesus'n stuff, yeah?