So many British television shows like to give you the impression that the lovely presenters and the lovely viewers are all one big, happy - and obviously lovely - family.

That myth has been shattered spectacularly by the ongoing mess involving ITV, Phillip Schofield, This Morning and anyone with a vague link to This Morning, past or present, who fancies a bit of extra publicity. While viewers see cosy chats on the sofa and the false impression that celebrities are all the best of friends, the reality is more like a circular firing squad.

Not that it took this sorry episode for a vast majority of viewers to see through the queasy ‘be kind’ artifice that plagues much TV output in this country. But Schofield’s departure and its aftermath prove that kindness and loveliness are in short supply behind the scenes, where petty sniping, narcissism, inflated egos and back-stabbing are much easier to find.

Plenty of Schofield’s former colleagues have been shrewdly – or not so shrewdly – positioning themselves, depending which way they think the wind is blowing.

Some were out of the blocks quickly to tell the world that they’d never liked him; others tearfully shared their support while stressing their stern disapproval of his behaviour (the ‘cake-and-eat-it’ option).

The remainder are clearly hedging their bets, first waiting to see what the court of public opinion – or, God help us, the court of Twitter – decides (although, as history tells us, this is a jury that rarely acquits).

The silver-lining for Schofield is that he and former ‘best friend’ Holly Willoughby will still probably be remembered more for the absurdly overblown accusations of queue-jumping while the Queen was lying in state last year.

Cheating on your wife and deceiving your work colleagues are one thing in the eyes of the British public, not waiting patiently in line is quite another (especially when David Beckham makes you look bad).

Holly herself calmly dispatched Schofield into TV history this week with her carefully rehearsed address to camera, exuding the friendly and reassuring air of a group therapist, combined with the clinical moral certainty of a cult leader telling the other members that someone won’t be returning to the compound because they wandered out during a curfew.

Regardless of the Schofield saga, I’m sure TV presenters will continue to be ‘kind’ and ‘lovely’ on screen, while tearing strips off anyone in their way once the cameras have stopped rolling.