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Bonekickers: That's not a fedora is it?

I HAVE a very guilty secret I need to share with you. I quite liked this week's episode of Bonekickers (BBC1, Tuesday, 9pm). There I said it.

Acting-wise, there was more ham than the deli section at Sainsbury's. The dialogue, so blatantly written with fingers-crossed for an American audience, is beyond ludicrous and the storyline is ridiculous, but even so, I kept on watching.

Despite the nonsense taking place, it looked surprisingly slick and it had big, thundery soundtrack moments (even when the on-screen action amounted to nothing more than some bloke standing still and looking pensive, which happened a lot). And for some inexplicable reason I wanted to know more about the big bunch of bones they'd unearthed. Firstly they were black slaves, then they turned out not to be black but white and then they weren't slaves after all but political prisoners.

And I also wanted to know why they all ended up in the Bristol Channel branch of Davy Jones' locker with their hands chopped off.

But it was never properly explained and all we ended up with was a flimsy denouement and a bush shaped like a sword.

Yet I still felt highly entertained.

Perhaps it was the sport of scrutinising the actors' faces to see if you could spot the merest hint of the shame and disappointment they must surely have been feeling at having to speak such stupid lines.

Or the fact that every American with a talking part seemed to have been dubbed so they all sounded (even the women) like that bloke with the booming baritone who does voiceovers for films that go a bit like: "They told him he'd never make it..." or "When the only thing left is your nose..."

Probably it was Hugh Bonneville's hilarious portrayal of Gregory, the character who is likely described by the makers as the brainy-but-bonkers team renegade. Not hilarious in the way Hugh and the writers obviously thought it was, though.

They think Gregory's character is soooo post-modern funny, but he makes Carry On circa 1975 look sophisticated and his witty' one-liners are as about as fresh as the 18th century corpses he fiddles about with.

The bobbly jumpers, the tweed jacket, the tousled hair - all text-book TV devices to tell us morons that the character is a bit dotty, possibly posh and a selection of carefully-composed vaguely sexist remarks to make us understand that he's a loveable cad.

Even so, I stuck with it and even managed to suss (triv fans) that Julie Graham who plays maverick' team leader Dr Magwilde (sorry, true) used to be in that low-rent Thelma and Louise-style advert for the Renault Clio.

No wonder she's now happy as a pig in muck to come out with daft things like: "Guys, right now, we're witnessing the writing that will shape our future..."

Yes, Julie, I think you probably are.

And speaking of Carry On, Babs Gerrrrrourrrramoipub' Windsor was the guest host on the Sunday Night Project (Channel 4, 10pm) . with music from the Ting-Tings.

This show puzzles me.

I like little Babs, she's a twooper and a tweasure.

I think Alan Carr is a really funny comedian.

Justin Lee-Collins is brilliant. He's been the face of some of the best programme in recent years.

And the Ting-Tings, well, who doesn't do the old shimmy/foot-tap combo when they belt out That's Not My Name?

So how come the only interesting about the entire hour was Barbara's astonishing performing wig?

I've previously mentioned my campaign to get the thing its own Equity card and judging by its animated performance the other night, it's only a matter of time before it takes its rightful place behind Justin and Alan's hot desk.

11:59am Friday 18th July 2008

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