No apologies, you absolute bastards, for this column returning once again to the horror of crass religious makeover show Make Me A Christian (Sun, 7pm, C4), which draws to a close this week having prompted much wailing and gnashing of teeth - 98% of it in my living room, where each episode has been accompanied by a storm of cries, squawks, and outraged splutters. The bellows came so regularly and automatically (as an instinctive physiological response to what I was seeing and hearing) that after a while I actually forgot it was me making them. They'd become part of my flat's natural ambient soundtrack, like the ticking of the clock or the sound of mould growing in the fridge. Yell, yell, yell. It was like living on top of a yell mine.

If you were to measure the volume of my shouts and plot them on a graph, you'd discover that the number of sonic peaks corresponded precisely to the number of close-ups of head Christian mentor Reverend George Hargreaves' simpering tortoisey face. A few weeks ago, after watching episode one, I was so incensed by his self-satisfied air of stubborn intolerance I Googled him as soon as the credits ran. Before long I'd uncovered his astonishing backstory: that in the distant past he'd been a DJ and songwriter (responsible for Sinitta's So Macho and Cruising) before becoming the head of the insanely right-wing Christian Party, which wants to denounce homosexuality, teach creationism in schools, reintroduce the death penalty, ban abortions, remove the "satanic" red dragon from the Welsh flag, and basically make a bollocks of everything.(Fortunately, they're not very successful, what with the general populace being aware it isn't AD1500 any more. In the recent Haltemprice and Howden by-election, George received 76 votes. But, hey, perhaps this TV exposure will build his profile.)

Anyway, George's background is so juicy and mad, I fully expected the show to make the most of it. You know: wait till he's admonishing Laura (one of the show's volunteers; a lesbian) for her sinful gayness, then have the voiceover say, "But George hasn't always been so opposed to homosexuality..." and BAM! - cut to Sinitta performing So Macho on Top Of The Pops in 1983 with a caption explaining who wrote it. And move from there into a cute VT package detailing his loopy political ambitions. Didn't happen in show one. Or show two. Aha, I figured. They're saving it for the finale: a classic "reveal". Look! He's been a vaguely sinister weirdo all along! Gotcha!

But no. His past and his party never warrant a mention. Instead we get the standard makeover show ending: a few participants scratching around for reasons why they feel a bit better about themselves having gone through the sausage machine. Ignore the faintly upbeat veneer and it's all pretty feeble: none of them appear to have undergone any spiritual transformation whatsoever. They may have enjoyed several of the "tasks", such as helping the elderly or throwing a barbecue for the neighbours, but that's because doing good deeds is fun. You don't need Christ whispering in your ear to appreciate the value of loving thy neighbour.

In fact, the biggest hurdle each of them has had to overcome throughout the series is George himself: his robotic intolerance; his haughty judgments; his stomach-churning opinions stated as fact. Choosing him as its "star" has created a bizarre tension at the heart of the programme: the volunteers have been repeatedly told that Christianity is all about love and acceptance by a man who insists the world must adhere to his dementedly fundamentalist interpretation of the Bible. And by giving George a mainstream televisual platform without once pointing out what a marginal and extremist figure he is, the show is hugely unfair on yer average non-lunatic churchgoer, the majority of whom are far more likely to offer you a pot of homemade elderberry jam than hysterically denounce you as a fornicating sinner.

Yeah, that's right. I'm an atheist defending moderate Christians. Wanna make something of it?