The dole queue has become a major point of interest lately -- mainly because so many of us are on it -- so it was only a matter of time before a TV company capitalised on our newfound hardship.

The zeitgeist-surfing producers of Channel 4 thought it the perfect time to roll out Benefit Busters, a documentary that follows the integration of those collectors of benefits back in to the working world ahead of hard-boiled changes to the British welfare system.

Fronted by Yorkshire woman Hayley Taylor, the first programme follows 10 single mothers as they attend a six-week intensive confidence-boosting course in Doncaster.

And intensive it is because Taylor is (rictus smile and crazed eyes) POSITIVE! We all know a Hayley. She's the person who's read six self-help books and once did a two-day course in NLP (neuro-linguistic programming) and now thinks that a Positive Mental Attitude is life's panacea.

It's her job to steer the women off the dole queue and into employment, with a few perks thrown in from the government along the way. Cue tears (lots of tears), tantrums and some rather hilarious excuses.

A woman who turned down a job as a DJ railed: "As far as I'm aware, on Thursdays and Sundays, all the taxis in Doncaster finish at 1.30am. How do I get home?"

Taylor found it difficult to conceal her disgust. She wanted the women to step out of the "little boxes that everyone's put you into", but she was the one closing the lid.

In fact, she reminded of the slimming club teacher in Little Britain when she asked the women to draw up a "pros and cons of being unemployed" list.

When it came to the "pros" part, some of the women suggested "more time with children", but Taylor quickly quashed that one and suggested "lying in bed... because you've got nothing to get up for".

The show succeeded in getting four of the 10 women placed in Poundland, but one soon pulled out. Yvette, a mother of four, found that she was earning more on benefits (£300 a week with council tax and dinner money) than she was in her minimum wage job. "We're getting too much for doing nothing," she conceded.

And therein lies the rub. This should have been the central thrust of this documentary. As in Ireland, the British government needs to realise that no matter how many positive affirmations you spin, sometimes the maths just don't add up.

Otherwise, it was hard to pinpoint the objectives of this programme. While it did seek to achieve balance by questioning the amount of money the millionaire chairwoman of A4e -- the largest private welfare placement company in Britain -- is making, it was as though they were suggesting that the welfare recipients were living the high life too.

As one woman talked about how much she was receiving from the government, the camera surreptitiously panned past her monstrous plasma screen TV; another woman was filmed justifying her digital TV package ("I don't do nowt else").

It seems the programme was designed to evoke fear (from those on welfare) and loathing (from those who are not). It succeeded on the latter, but the fear they hoped to raise can only have turned to apathy by the end of the programme.

Benefit seekers will be skipping to the dole queue thanks to the parting image of the women stacking shelves in Poundland. While wearing Santa hats. Benefit Busters was an engaging watch for all the wrong reasons.

Benefit Busters * * *