On TV

Blood On Our Hands: The English Civil War (C4)

I HATE to think what the viewing public's fascination with programmes about dirty houses and rat-catchers says about the state of the nation, but the BBC isn't about to let a ratings-winner escape.

So A Life Of Grime moves across the Atlantic, with Louis Armstrong singing What A Wonderful World on the soundtrack as shots of rats scampering about the Big Apple fill the screen. This is a city of eight million people and 70 million rats, an interesting statistic but who, I wondered, had actually counted them?.

We've seen this all before and, quite honestly, didn't want to see it again. Especially not Donald and Henry entering the house of a woman who died and wasn't found for ten days.

Nothing seemed to faze them, although viewers may have been reaching for a sick bag. "I think she died right here because of the stain," said one of them pointing to a patch on the floor.

Fortunately, the body wasn't shown. Unfortunately, its condition was described to us. Those of a nervous disposition should skip to the next paragraph, for we learned that her dogs "ate away a good section of her" including portions of stomach, leg and face.

After this, the abandoned car crawling with very large rats was a breath of fresh air. Then there was Michelle, who falls into the category of "clutterer" as there didn't appear to be an inch of vacant space in her apartment.

Ronald, from clean up company Disaster Masters, was called in to de-clutter the place. The superintendent of the building wasn't helpful. He was a foul-mouthed bully who wouldn't let them get on with the job.

It ended with him fighting and punching Ronald. The super was arrested and charged with assault, proving that not all the dirty rats in New York have tails.

More brutality and gruesome deaths followed in Blood On Our Hands, a long - very long at two hours plus - history lesson about the English Civil War. This wasn't dull or uninteresting but I could have done with a playground break halfway through.

It certainly told you everything you wanted to know about the causes, chronology and choreography of the Cavaliers v Roundheads conflict, caused, as so many wars, by a difference of opinion over religion.

The inevitable talking heads commented on events, but much came from letters and papers of those who witnessed what happened. Amid all the written evidence it was good to hear a modern professor's take on Queen Henrietta. She was tiny, vivacious, chirpy and loved court entertainment. "In personal terms, she was a sweetie," he said.

Telstar, York Grand Opera House

NOBODY should mistake this for one of those endless tribute shows that fill theatres these days. This is a proper play, not a song catalogue. Joe Meek, whose "music, mayhem, madness" story it tells, had a relatively short career but produced one of the biggest hits of the early 1960s, Telstar, and others such as Johnny Remember Me and Have I The Right that those of more mature years may recall.

His place in pop music history is undeniable. He was the first independent record producer - making records in his studio in his flat over a handbag shop in North London - and his colourful, if troubled, personal life ensures no shortage of drama. He was homosexual at a time it was illegal, lusted after Heinz, the singer he discovered, and ended up shooting his landlady and then himself.

Writers Nick Moran and James Hicks have plenty of material - perhaps too much for a two-act play - which they turn into a portrait of a musical artist slowly going off his head. This allows Con O'Neill to deliver a towering performance as the pill-popping, sexually confused Meek, a troubled genius who makes hit records despite being tone deaf and dismisses an unknown Merseybeat combo called The Beatles as "rubbish".

Despite the tragedy unfolding, the play is often outrageously funny, as Meek makes a play for Adam Rickitt's endearingly dopey Heinz Burtz, argues over the rent with his not-unsympathetic landlady Mrs Shenton (Linda Robson in an underwritten role) and presides over unconventional recording sessions.

l Runs until Saturday at York Grand Opera House (tickets 0870 606 3595) then at Darlington Civic Theatre from Monday to February 19 (tickets 01325 486 555).

Steve Pratt