IF I were a woman in Singapore, I would be terribly insulted if I were in any way associated with the TV reality series The S Factor.

For one thing, I would hate to see the years of love and care my parents lavished on me culminate in my seven seconds of fame onscreen this way: Me and another bikini-clad hottie throwing cream pies at each other. In the background are grunts of “slap more on the boobs, the boobs!”.

That happened in last Sunday’s episode of the show, as two contestants engaged in a food fight for a photo shoot. They were being egged on by a photographer.

(In case you’re wondering, the winner of this reality show gets to be an FHM cover girl and walk away with $10,000.)

Make no mistake – the S Factor contestants are smoking hot. Well, some of them, anyway. And until they open their mouths, I can live under the delusion that they are the best things since sliced bread.

Sadly, if these beauties are indicative of the women in Singapore, then I would rather date any plain Jane who can hold a decent conversation.

Most of The S Factor girls could do with a diction coach.

But that’s the least of their worries – for many, the art of conversation (or just speaking coherently) is simply not within their reach.

If I were paid a dollar each time a contestant mangled a sentence (then followed her statements with vacuous giggles), I could be the messiah to lift the economy.

I mean, it’s absolute murder any time a few of them attempt to use the English language. Logic? It eludes them entirely.

Take, for example, 21-year-old model Xuesha. Asked to rate her own chances on the show, all she could come up with was: “I tink (note: yes, she said “tink”, not “think”) different people got different character and looks.”

Wow, no s***, Einstein. That’s like telling me different people have different parents.

This is the same lovely individual who proclaimed: “When I happy, my eyes will tell people that okay, I’m very happy. Then, when I’m sad, I will be crying.”

The only response one has is: “Huh?”

And then there’s pole-dancing beauty Autumn, who was asked what makes her special. Her creative reply: “My S Factor will be a little to the slouty side.”

Honey, I think you meant “slutty”. Well, I certainly hope you did. Because if you didn’t, I have absolutely no idea what a “slout” is.

She added: “I like to play naughty with the guys...maybe use my eyes to give electricity.”

I hate to tell her that what she’s describing defies the laws of physics. That, or she’s read one comic book too many. But the comedic effect is priceless.

Look, I have no problem when TV shows are essentially meat auctions or flesh parades bordering dangerously on soft porn.

But I do take issue when they suggest that they are something above all that.

In this case, this programme suggests that it is looking for the Singapore woman with the S factors – sexy, smart and stylish.

One could blame the show’s failures on the “talent”. And here’s what I say to that: In pursuing those elusive S factors, the girls have lost sight of the C factor – as in C for class.

Here’s hoping other Singaporean women don’t follow their example.

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