On the box: Alan Whicker's Journey of a Lifetime

Published on Friday 27 March 2009 14:06

ALAN WHICKER'S JOURNEY OF A LIFETIME BBC2 Wednesday, 10pm THE APPRENTICE BBC1 Wednesday, 9pm THE SECRET MILLIONAIRE Channel 4 Sunday, 9pm

NO DOUBT about the most suave, urbane, intelligent and authoritative figure on television last week. No, not our dear Prime Minister but the legendary Alan Whicker. Looking back over 50 years in television in Alan Whicker's Journey Of A Lifetime, the great man showed why he is revered as the founder of the 'travelogue', and why he was always a much better reporter than simply a chronicler of his voyages.

I confess that even as a long-term fan I had forgotten that he frequently though sympathetically kebabbed the rich and famous – John Paul Getty was one victim in this show – and was the first broadcaster to show the brutality of fox hunting and bullfighting up close.

He still has the gift for a well-turned phrase in that all-too-imitable delivery of his – "not even nostalgia is as good as it used to be" – and this enjoyable romp through just a tiny part of his remarkable archive should be prescribed viewing for all television executives anxious to know what good reporting is about.

Whicker would not get a start on television these days. Those specs, that moustache, those wrinkles – aaargh. Yet his career has shown how sheer irresistible talent is a better guarantor of quality than looks or youth. Whicker is now 83, so what about a knighthood for lifetime achievement? It would be long overdue.

In a piece of quite criminal programming, Auntie Beeb broadcast the latest series of The Apprentice at the same time as Whicker on the big channel. Thanks to the BBC iPlayer it is possible to see both, of course, but why dilute the chances of two hits? Crazy.

Sir Alan Sugar's Unholy Inquisition has been a huge success, so why was my reaction to the first episode of the new series a great big "ho-hum"? We've seen it all before, that's why. The bitchy women contestants, the preening egos of middle Englander wannabe-on-telly types, the sheer desperation of all the candidates to be acknowledged as anything other than what they are, namely a bunch of prats.

The latest lot to be terrorised by old Shar Pei face – actually he looked as if he was just going through the motions – are the worst yet. You would not care if they were set on fire, never mind being fired. "Born to be a winner", "love the sound of my own voice", "I'm a winner" – just a few of their descriptions of themselves. Pathetic.

They were hopeless at their simple task of cleaning cars, being possibly all too representative of young British managerial types – they did virtually no research, they personalised issues and looked for scapegoats when things went belly-up, and generally behaved like sneaky prefects at a failing grammar school. It was all as entertaining as watching people, ahem, washing cars.

The Apprentice is beginning to seem like a format that's exhausting itself. So, too, is The Secret Millionaire, though to be fair, ex-Rover MD Kevin Morley's mindset-altering sojourn in Haringey was one of the better episodes. But surely there can't be a rundown sink estate anywhere in Britain where people don't immediately twig that the guy being followed by a camera is a 'secret' millionaire. You can just imagine certain Scottish territories. Up would come the local boot boys to say, "Right mate, we know you're the millionaire, so cut the investigative crap and the emotional mince and get the dosh out. Okay, pal?" Maybe it's already happened – I would love to see those outtakes.

As Morley discovered, resources are scarce everywhere, and in Scottish life there are few areas more under-resourced than sport. As Andy Murray's formidable mum Judy points out, there is not a single US-style hardcourt tennis court anywhere in the country. Our best young hammer thrower Myra Perkins has to practise next to a farmer's field while taking care to avoid killing the sheep. The City of Edinburgh Swimming Club is closing its doors because there's only one Olympic-size pool in the city and it's going to take two years to refurbish it.

All these issues were raised in BBC Scotland's new Sports Monthly programme (Sunday, BBC2, 5.30pm), a magazine-style show salving Scotbeeb's conscience about being fitba-daft.

It was a promising start, but reporters Rhona MacLeod and Katie Still will need to develop a harder edge – for example, putting ministers and councillors in the dock to ask why they have failed Scottish sport.

The Mentalist (Channel 5, Thursday, 9pm) looked set to be a typical US detective series meeting the producer's checklist. Our hero must have a gimmick, and this one's a former stage psychic. Said 'tec must have a 'past', and a wife and child murdered because of his ego is certainly that. He must solve murders on his own despite being part of a team, like Kojak – this fellow cleaned up the two main murders and actually set out to deliberately annoy his colleagues.

But within minutes it was clear the formula was out of the window. Detective Patrick Jane of the California Bureau of Investigation is the former mentalist – a stage illusionist and fake psychic – of the title. He uses the tricks of that trade, such as a Sherlock Holmes-style 'cold reading' of a person and crime scene to reach his conclusions.

His first inquiry into a girl's murder fingered the father as an incestuous killer. Result! Except that the suspect's wife promptly shot him dead. Oops. The Mentalist clearly wasn't going to be formulaic, and Jane then went on to cleverly and audaciously solve a double murder that was baffling his colleagues. It was intelligent, well-written stuff, quite edgy at times, and the rest of the series will be unmissable as Jane attempts to find the Red John serial killer who butchered his family.

I predict Australian lead Simon Baker will do for the distaff side what his good friends Nicole Kidman and Naomi Watts do for us guys. On the back of his winning performance and the quality of the scripts, The Mentalist looks set to go from strength to strength.