Look into my eyes, look into my eyes, not around the eyes, look into my eyes.

And……..you’re under.

Right, you’re going to turn on the TV, you’re going to turn on the TV at precisely 7.30pm on a Tuesday night.

You’re going to make sure it’s Channel Seven, that’s right, Channel Seven and you will watch and be so mesmerised and confounded and amazed by what you see there, that you will be compelled to run around the room, squawking like a chicken while pretending to romance your loungeroom carpet.

Now, when I click my fingers and say “wake”, you’ll be back here with me in the present, but you won’t forget what to do on Tuesday night.

And…….wake! You’re back in the room.

Okay, so The One is not so much about hypnosis as it is psychics, but they are two groups who inspire the same level of cynicism, so let’s lump ‘em together.

The One claims to be on a search to find Australia’s most gifted psychic and they’ve assembled a magnificent bunch of seven to start, which will be whittled down to, well, One.

It is hosted by a member of Australia’s answer to the Baldwin brothers, Andrew Daddo, still looking every bit the cat that swallowed the cream.

Interestingly, the competing psychics (who also refer to themselves as mediums, clairvoyants, Reiki masters, clairsentients, clairaudients, shaman healers, psychometrists and communicators with spirit) are judged by a panel of two: psychic Stacey Demarco (an initiated witch, I wonder what that involved) and sceptic Richard Saunders.

It has really trashy, Today Tonight-style elements, like last night when the psychics had 15 minutes to find a little boy who'd been planted in the bush. (Some went straight to him, a few got really close, but ran out of time, and a couple went the wrong way altogether.)

Gee, I wonder if they'll have them picking the Powerball or a winner in the fifth at Randwick on race day next week?

There’s also a touch of the John Edwards Crossing Over (one of my favourite shows), where some of the psychics work the room and tell some unsuspecting audience member that their Aunt Ruby loves what they’ve done with the kitchen, but would prefer roses in the garden instead of mondo grass. Oh, and by the way, she wants you to know she’s happy and she loves you very much. (Why do they always end like that? Random pointless message from the other side after random pointless message from the other side, followed by, “Much love to all!”)

There are some really hilarious moments when the psychics just take themselves too seriously and commit one too many vacant stares into the camera, but mostly, it’s a bloody good show that will doubtless rate through the roof.

It also pulls back on the earnestness with a jab at itself, with savvy producers recognising that when people heard about a show that purports to find Australia’s greatest psychic that they would immediately think the outcome would be pre-determined, in paranormal parts at least.

And so, they got all seven psychics to write who they thought would end up in the top three. How good are they? You’ll have to watch to find out.

Yes, it’s audience-grabbing by stealth, but it’s good, clean entertainment.

It has something for everyone: the “I’ll be the judge of that” sceptic; the genuine believer; the curious; the gullible; the easily-shocked; the easily-amazed; those who live their lives by information gleaned from the paranormal and fans of the Baldwins, er, Daddos.

And, before I go, seeing as I started with reference to a classic British comedy, shamelessly aping Little Britain’s shonk hypnotist, allow me to finish by bowing down to British comedy goddess Catherine Tate and blubbering a respectful, “Farewell!”

My sources tell me she will not be making any more episodes of her skit show and that her fans will have to be content with the gems contained in just three series released so far.

I think I speak for all your fans, Catherine, when I say: “I AM BOVVERED! What a *$#*&^% liberty! How very dare you!”

- REBECCA MARSHALL