What would Tyra Banks do? Tips on model behaviour

Girls, do you want to be America's Next Top Model? Then, with all the ghetto style of a Pussycat Doll, shove your nose in the air, wave your acrylic talon in a pretty face and shriek after me: "Ain't no bitch ever gonna hate on me like that! I'm America's Next Top Model an there ain't nothin' you can do about that, ohhhh kaaay?"

And girl, there are plenty more tips where that one came from. You can thank your supermodel host Tyra Banks and cycle 10 of her diva-addled show for that particular joy. So now that the final is upon us – will it be Whitney? Anya? Fatima? – here are a few other things that Tyra's taught us about cat-fighting your way onto the cover of Vogue.

Lesson one: baby, you gotta be fierce!
You can be draped in Dior, gurning through a Tampax ad or debating the calorific carnage of a linseed but just make it fierce, OK? And, as Tyra never tires of showing us, that means hoofing it down the runway like a maimed Red Rum while glaring at whatever the hell it is that lies beyond the camera.

Lesson two: angel, that's MY room
Sixteen fame-desperate, mirror-screwing, Tyra-adoring girls sharing a loft apartment … Want to stand out? Start by accusing thinnest girls of raging bulimia before calling the ex-stripper a ho and bitching about the plus-size model's saddlebags. Then hog the telephone even though you're listening to the speaking clock before stealing the contestants' Granola bars and hawking into the communal lettuce.

Lesson three: honey, that weave is hot!
Never believe anyone who says your hair extensions look like roadkill. Oh and should you find your shimmering brunette locks hacked off in favour of a peroxide buzz cut don't even try to weep quietly into a towel. Instead, bawl open-mouthed and snot-drenched at the cameraman while pawing at the stylist like he's removing your kidneys. Now work that look!

Lesson four: it's a Tyra Mail!
No, it's not a Tyra Mail, you dope. It's an ambiguous hint about the next day's photo-shoot that was placed in the communal living room by the producer while you were waxing your bikini lines. But hey! If Tyra does insist on mysterious missives it's your duty to embarrass yourself by gawping into space and assuming the word bush refers to posing nude.

Lesson five: baby, I can't hear you …
You really want that $100,000 contract with Cover Girl cosmetics? Are you gagging for a year's representation by Elite Model Management? Then start screaming. Oh, and not just when Tyra walks into the audition suite. How about whenever you receive a Tyra Mail? Or how about whenever you win a challenge? You could even scream whenever Tyra lifts so much as a buttock off her judging throne.

Lesson six: girl, you gonna go on a go-see!
No, that's not as in "go see if there's any milk left in the fridge". That's as in go see potential clients and act as if you're happy modelling tarantulas while draped in marabou. Oh, and remember that you have to do this just moments after being dumped in the chaotic heart of Tokyo without so much as a translation of "stick woman".

Lesson seven: honey, you gotta walk and talk
Walk? Talk? Walk and talk? You mean together? At the same time? Well, you knew you had to film an ad so what's the problem? Perhaps it's the fact that you have to sell a multi-million dollar brand in some strange Mongolian dialect. Look, it's easy when you know how. If you can say "Cover Girl Cosmetics' crafty concealer and clever colours in easy-to-carry cartons and crayons" it'll be a cinch.

Lesson eight: models, it's time for the judges to deliberate
Well, supermodel Paulina Porizkova is a pushover. Then just negotiate Tyra and "noted" fashion photographer Nigel Barker (you can dodge them while they alternate between looking fierce or plain bewildered). Oh, and get past the guest judge which might be anyone from Anna Wintour to the stylist you pissed off with your strop over the lip gloss. But then you have to face Miss J …

Lesson nine: girl, this ain't gonna be pretty
Got an upper lip like Tom Selleck? Or do you walk like a freshly castrated giraffe? Then you can rely on the judge "diva and runway coach extraordinaire" J Alexander to tell you. The trick to surviving Miss J, as he's fondly known to those whose self-esteem remains intact, is knowing that a man sporting ruffles, a three-foot afro, bejewelled eyebrows and a stare like Norma Desmond can never really harm you.

Lesson ten: and America's Next Top Model is …
… by now? Probably sick to the back bloody teeth of Tyra.