It reminds me of the old joke: first prize is a week in Rhyl; second prize is a fortnight. On Monday night we discovered the winners of the Golden Globe awards. But as if one set of mutual back-slapping, aren’t-we-all-wonderful-dahling film awards ceremonies wasn’t enough, we also learnt the identities of the British Academy of Film and Television Arts award nominees this week.

Is there anyone not directly involved in the film industry who could care less? I’d wager a hefty bet that, by tomorrow, barely one in a hundred people will have any recollection of the names of the Golden Globe winners.

As for the Baftas — I don’t know what’s more of an embarrassment. The star-struck thrill when the likes of Leonardo DiCaprio and Nicole Kidman find time away from washing their hair to turn up for our little awards ceremony? Or the announcement from the stage when the likes of DiCaprio and Kidman have not been able to find the time away from washing their hair to turn up for our little awards ceremony?

Not that the Golden Globes are wholly pointless. Just as the ‘t’ in Bafta is their only worthwhile aspect, so the TV awards which come with the Golden Globes reveal why film awards are so tiresome. The truth is that, today, quality TV far surpasses almost all film. Take a look at the Bafta nominees.

The Aviator — a sprawling, overblown mess which, for drama and characterisation, isn’t a patch on any number of long-running TV shows (such as The Sopranos, by far the greatest drama known to film or TV, or ER, a genuine high-class soap).

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind — mildly amusing, occasionally diverting comedy which doesn’t come close to TV programmes such as Six Feet Under, Arrested Development and Curb Your Enthusiasm. Finding Neverland — a film about the creation of Peter Pan; yawn. The Motorcycle Diaries — a whitewashed homage to the vile politics of Che Guevara, without the style and wit of the similarly liberal West Wing.

And Vera Drake — of course; where would the British film industry be without Mike Leigh’s regular dose of misery?

And that’s without even mentioning Golden Globe winners such as Nip/Tuck, Desperate Housewives and Deadwood. There really is no contest. For quality, panache and inventiveness, TV beats film hands down.