The backbiting egotists behind these multimillion dollar sales ooze confidence – which is as horrible as it sounds. The wildly expensive (and tasteless) properties aren’t much nicer

At first, I thought I had run out of hatred. An unsettling sensation. Fortunately, order was soon restored. It turns out that the opening episode of Owning Manhattan – the latest product in Netflix’s attempt to saturate the market for real-estate shows – is an uncharacteristically gentle lead-in to what becomes a characteristic maelstrom of backbiting, warring egos, frightening fashion choices, daily Oscar-ceremony levels of grooming and gobsmacking commissions up for grabs.

After the most recent iteration – the essentially dismal Buying London, set in essentially dismal London and unable to field the level of monstrosity required in property and human terms that the Americans manage so effortlessly – this is at least a return to suitably excessive form. Fans of Selling Sunset who are not yet sated should find something to help them here.

He seemed like a kind man just trying to help people conceive … until his serial fertility scam was revealed. The women he duped tell all

Even when she was searching online for a sperm donor, Vanessa wanted her children to know their father. In 2015, she was 34, the right partner hadn’t come along and fertility treatment “would have bankrupted me”, she says.

A website listing dozens of Dutchmen willing to donate privately seemed to answer her prayers. Though no photographs were posted, Vanessa was drawn to one profile in particular. The man – Jonathan – wrote that he’d been inspired to sign up after friends of his had struggled to conceive. “I thought: ‘That’s nice – he wants to help’,” says Vanessa.

From one of the best television series of all time to rushed, unfocused and half-baked, the cooking drama’s third season is a big letdown. Is it a victim of its own success?

Before we begin, it’s important to point out that The Bear is one of my favourite shows of all time. If you ever need to look for a perfect season of television, I will always point you to The Bear’s first eight episodes. That season was incredibly stylish, overwhelmingly propulsive and filled with characters you found yourself rooting for. More than anything, though, it was about something. The first season of The Bear was about leaving home, returning changed and trying to fit back in. This thumped through every scene of every episode. It was stunning.

While season two allowed itself to unspool a little, it was still driven by an unbeatably strong engine, in the countdown to the opening of a new restaurant. There was still such momentum that, like everyone else, I wolfed it down in one go. Season three couldn’t come quick enough.

The Bear is on Disney+

A shocking documentary about a Dutch sperm donor scam that’s gone global, plus bitesize new episodes of the exquisite Australian cartoon

No tickets, no problem – just join the festival from your sofa. Plus: Nick Robinson is interviewing Ed Davey. Here’s what to watch this evening

7.30pm, BBC Four
It has been 17 years since the Beautiful South split, citing “musical similarities”, but Paul Heaton hasn’t kipped on his laurels, most recently releasing N.K-Pop with fellow former Southerner Jacqui Abbott. Expect more achingly poignant masterpieces on the Pyramid stage. Meanwhile, Sugababes will be bringing their incurably infectious pop genius, with the likes of Overload, Push the Button and latest single When the Rain Comes. Bliss. Ali Catterall

This campaign has been so gaffe-heavy it couldn’t be much more like Armando Iannucci’s classic TV satire. But can you sort your Sunaks from your Tuckers?

Over the last couple of decades, whenever there has been a general election – and there have been a lot of them – the overwhelming likelihood is that it will be so full of gaffes and panic that it will end up being compared to The Thick of It. This is a testament to the painful authenticity of that show and a sad reality of political discourse in the 21st century.

However, by anyone’s standards, the 2024 general election has been especially The Thick of Itty. At one point, the show’s creator, Armando Iannucci, pointed out that one fleeting talking point – the Conservative’s plan to let an independent body tackle immigration, to stop MPs from being tripped up on the subject in the media – was basically the plot of the 2007 special The Rise of the Nutters.

Steven Moffat’s drama about one half of a TV news couple being accused of sexism takes no prisoners. It's fast, fun – and furious about every liberal taboo

It is clear within a few minutes of Steven Moffat’s latest venture, Douglas Is Cancelled, that he has set out if not to slaughter every liberal/leftist/wokeist cow (delete according to personal definition – one of the main themes of this drama is that we can no longer depend on words or meaning), then lacerate them.

Douglas, played by Hugh Bonneville, is the older male half of the nation’s favourite TV news couple. His co-presenter on the sofa is Madeline (Karen Gillan), a 30-something hottie there to keep the dads watching. Thus it was, is and apparently evermore shall be.

Presenter forced to improvise after track cuts out because of computer system failure

“Please don’t stop the music,” Rihanna once sang. On Thursday, producers at BBC Radio 2 scrambled to oblige as Vernon Kay was forced to use CDs to play music on the station after its digital system failed.

The radio presenter, 50, was playing Won’t Get Fooled Again by The Who towards the end of his show when the issue occurred. At about 11.30am, the track cut out and he came back on air laughing. He said: “This has never happened to me, where the computer system has just failed.”

Actor who has played Jarrod ‘Toadfish’ Rebecchi since 1995 says he has started training to direct episodes of long-running soap opera

Ryan Moloney, the actor who has played Jarrod “Toadfish” Rebecchi on Neighbours for nearly 30 years, is leaving the long-running Australian soap.

Moloney first joined Neighbours in 1994 aged 15, appearing as a one-off character named Cyborg. The following year he returned to play Toadfish, the brother of established character Kevin ‘Stonefish’ Rebecchi. Toadfish – or Toadie – was intended to be a one-scene role, but Moloney was called back and became so popular he was eventually made a permanent cast member in 1996.

BBC lacks the hottest takes from Lineker’s Rest Is Football crew while Overlap gang and Christina Unkel boost ITV

It is accepted among TV and film execs that a tertiary element now complicates the relationship between viewer and product. Even auteurs such as Martin Scorsese and Christopher Nolan have been forced to assimilate grudgingly the reality of phones, tablets and watches pumping out all manner of distraction.

Coverage of Euro 2024 has seen further foxes in the chicken coop of linear TV broadcasting. Going viral on social media is a key target even if neither of the UK broadcasters has yet headed down the route of CBS’s Champions League coverage: less infotainment, more a raucous post-works drinks session. Podcasting, meanwhile, part of the wider football media landscape since Germany 2006, has become a lucrative, fresh and – crucially here – unregulated frontier for pundits.

The presenter and comedian Larry Dean dive into infamous legal fights in Famously … On Trial. Plus: five of the best clubbing podcasts

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Famously … On Trial
BBC Sounds, episodes weekly
TV favourite Stacey Dooley teams up with comedian Larry Dean to revisit celebrity court cases and put them on retrial. First up, it’s Pamela Anderson and the stolen sex tape scandal, which was both illegal and served with a big old dose of 90s sexism. Dooley, as ever, is thoughtful and sharp, but there’s still room for fun, moreish celebrity gossip. Listen out for its sister series, too – Famously … In Love unpicks the biggest romances and affairs. Hollie Richardson

This joyously bananas look at the nine-day queen features shapeshifting servants transforming into owls. It’s a wild, fun bit of escapism – perfect summer viewing

I would love to have been in the room when My Lady Jane was pitched – either in its original book form or as an adaptation to the commissioners at Prime Video.

“It’s the story of Lady Jane Grey.”

At its best, this is the finest show on TV. But the new season feels half finished, wastes its best actors and ends maddeningly. Only two episodes are knockouts

I am going to be hard on The Bear, because when the show is flying, it really is wonderful television. If the first season cooked up a solid base for the drama, returning troubled chef Carmen Berzatto (Jeremy Allen White) to The Beef, the hectic Chicago sandwich shop owned by his recently deceased brother Mikey (Jon Bernthal), the second season refined it beautifully. Few shows earn the privilege of having episodes that become widely known by their titles, but season two’s Forks and Fishes did just that. They were special, inventive and shaped the sometimes operatic emotional register of the series into clever, compelling drama. Little wonder it has become such a pop culture phenomenon, churning out superstars quicker than plates on the pass.

As a result, it returns for a third season under another level of expectation. But pressure is one of The Bear’s main themes. It squeezes its characters, presses down on them, and we witness the results, as some thrive in crisis mode and some collapse completely. Season two ended with Carmen finally closing down (most of) The Beef and preparing to open his own far fancier restaurant, The Bear. But the return of his professional ambitions come at a price: he stampedes towards greatness at the cost of his two most solid relationships, sabotaging his closeness with girlfriend Claire (Molly Gordon) and the newly reformed “Cousin” Richie (Ebon Moss-Bachrach).

A newsreader cracks a dodgy joke and his life implodes in Steven Moffat’s new series. Plus: Paul Whitehouse on great TV sketch shows. Here’s what to watch this evening

9pm, ITV1
A juicy swipe at cancel culture, which writer Steven Moffat swears isn’t based on real recent cases. The drama follows white, middle-aged, trusted national news anchor Douglas (Hugh Bonneville) whose career is about to go up in flames, thanks to a viral social media post about a sexist joke he made at a wedding. Things get worse when his younger, savvier co-host Madeline (Karen Gillan) reshares the post. With his boss (Ben Miles) telling him to be “balanced, boring and bland” and his newspaper editor wife (Alex Kingston) knowing how these things play out (“Delete these messages – I work with people who hack your phone!”), can Douglas avoid being cancelled? Hollie Richardson

Rapman’s sprawling sci-fi drama is strikingly performed, bracingly plotted and its characters are up there with prestige TV’s finest. It’s ingenious

When it comes to superpowers, there are two that are considered the most desirable: flight and invisibility. As the US writer John Hodgman once pointed out, people who would choose flight have nothing to hide and are selfless, competent and unashamed. People who’d choose invisibility are deceitful, fearful, perverts.

The subjects of Supacell don’t have the privilege of choosing the powers they are assigned. Instead, they find themselves reeling from sudden supernatural abilities. Sweet nurse Sabrina (Nadine Mills) is given telekinesis, young rapscallion Tazer (Josh Tedeku) can turn invisible and become a “ghost”, inept drug dealer Rodney (Calvin Demba) can run to Edinburgh in a few seconds, single dad Andre (Eric Kofi-Abrefa) has extraordinary strength and can lift cars without breaking a sweat, and the show’s heart and soul, Michael (Tosin Cole), can move through time and space in the blink of an eye.

Supacell is on Netflix

Be it the thankless shifts of Blue Lights or the wage-free stressfest of The Bear, onscreen employees are having a very bad day at the office. And things are about to get worse

In the first series of Slow Horses, MI5’s Jackson Lamb gives a motivational speech: “You’re fucking useless. The lot of you. Working with you has been the lowest point in a disappointing career.” This is actually fairly uplifting from a man who is as likely a contender for a “World’s Best Boss” mug as The Thick of It’s Malcolm Tucker.

On TV, staff morale is at an all time low. From hellish hospitality to callous corporate overlords, going to work has never looked less appealing. Instead of bumbling idiots for bosses, we have tortured geniuses and masochistic maniacs. The daily grind is one of high stakes, long hours and limited rewards – with not an HR department in sight.

The general election hopefuls have revealed their viewing habits, but how come Rishi Sunak didn’t mention that Bridgerton sex scene?

In 1998, then-prime minister Tony Blair asked the home secretary, Jack Straw, to look into the release of wrongly imprisoned Weatherfield resident Deirdre Rachid. “It is clear to anyone with eyes in their head she is innocent and she should be freed,” he said. Opposition leader William Hague followed suit: “The whole nation is deeply concerned about Deirdre, Conservatives as much as everyone else.” They were, of course, talking about a fictional character on one of the UK’s most popular soaps, Coronation Street. Politicians had just realised the power of talking telly.

Here we are more than 25 years later, then, in the age of prestige TV and streaming – and an election that could end the Tories’ 14-year run. Soaps may have lost their grip, but television is stronger than ever, and MPs are desperate to be relatable. It makes sense that a party leader naming their favourite show has become part of the PR machine. But with so much more choice comes more opportunity to succeed or fail in reaching voters – and this election’s frontrunners are clearly trying to get messages across with the shows they named in a Radio Times article this week.

Hollie Richardson is the assistant TV editor for the Guardian