TV review

Bad Girls (ITV1)

Every Time You Look At Me (BBC2)

MY feeling is that the strike by prison officers this week could only make things better for the women behind bars at Larkhall, where it's a toss-up whether inmates or screws are more bent. Frankly, they all need locking up.

The arrival of a wing governor - the previous one is being done for murder - did little to inspire confidence as she was a prostitute.

Don't get the wrong impression. Frances Myers (Eva Pope) was only pretending to be on the wrong side of the law in order to trap on-remand Natalie Buxton. She claimed to be up on charges of fiddling the company books, in fact she'd been using illegal immigrants as child prostitutes.

Once Frances has secured the evidence, she revealed herself as the new wing governor. This is bad news for screws like Fenner and Bodybag, who show a blatant disregard for the rules and niceties of human behaviour in their dealing with all the prisoners.

There was also something to be cleared up from the previous series - what's left of top dog prisoner Yvonne Atkins. She's not a pretty sight, having been mouldering for several months in an underground cell.

"I couldn't describe it," said the warder who found the remains, having followed her nose in the direction of a very nasty smell.

From glimpses of the decaying corpse we saw, I'm very glad she didn't have the words.

We know that Fenner double-crossed and locked Atkins in the cellar room, leaving her to die a slow and agonising death. Now he's suffering nightmares of bloody hands clawing on stone walls.

No wonder Frances called all the staff together and told them, "You're all sacked". Eventually, she relented and re-instated them with the warning, "Things are going to be different".

I hope not. Bad Girls wouldn't be the same gloriously tacky experience without everyone taking drugs, beating up each other, snogging anything with a pulse and generally having a good time being bad. And that's only the prison staff.

Every Time I Look At You could hardly have provided a greater contrast, being a love story between a thalidomider and a person of restricted height.

The good thing about Lizzie Mickery's script was both its honesty and refusal to play the sentimental card.

Her Romeo and Juliet were no angels, equally capable of behaving as insensitively as those around them. Teacher Chris (Mat Fraser) cheated on his able-bodied girlfriend with hairdresser Nicky (Lisa Hammond).

He risked everything to be with her. Observers weren't convinced it was a good thing. "You're disabled, she's disabled, you're living in a dream," was a typical reaction.

The film was only spoiled by a late revelation that Nicky had a degenerative disease, and a happy ending (sort of) in which the couple were reunited. This didn't ring as true as the rest of the romance.

Suddenly Last Summer, Newcastle Theatre Royal

THIS short but emotionally draining work is partly autobiographical; Tennessee Williams' own sister underwent devastating brain surgery at her mother's behest, although there was apparently no physical abnormality.

Violet Venable has lost her only son Sebastian in dreadful circumstances, and vulnerable Catharine Holly witnessed his death. Violet is determined that, rather than allow Catharine to tell her hideous story, it should be "cut...out of her brain" and has assembled a doctor and Catharine's family in order to pursue her ruthless aim.

But first, the doctor administers a truth drug and Catharine relives Sebastian's final hours in all their horror.

Diana Rigg plays Violet to the hilt: crippled in body but with the indomitable spirit to force others to bow to her will. She is determined to preserve Sebastian's memory as a chaste, poetic dreamer, and will sacrifice Catharine to do so. Although she barely speaks during the last half-hour of the play, Dame Diana's stage presence is powerful.

Even more powerful, though, is Victoria Hamilton as Catharine, whose mesmeric performance is nothing short of awesome.

The set is ugly and evocative; Sebastian has created a semi-tropical garden full of huge, meaty red flowers and insect-eating plants, and his doting mother thinks it beautiful.

The screeching, discordant accompaniment could not be called music, but so accurately conveys the characters' teetering on the edge of madness. There's a throbbing, ominous undertone, too, which is very effective.

It's an unforgettable evening, not for the fainthearted.

Until Saturday. Booking Office: 0870-905 5060

Sue Heath