Canterbury Tales: The Miller's Tale (BBC1): IN common with thousands of people, I have fond memories of studying Geoffrey Chaucer's Canterbury Tales at school.

Not for the joy of revelling in his use of English or the uplifting morals contained in the stories. No, we loved Chaucer because of the dirty bits.

They were the nearest smutty-minded schoolboys (and girls) got to porn in the days when the top shelf in the newsagent was restricted to Playboy and the dirtiest thing on the telly was the film of dust on the top where your mum hadn't dusted.

The only thing I remembered about The Miller's Tale was that someone had a red hot poker shoved up his bum after sticking his naked posterior out of an open window in the face of a rival for the same woman.

Peter Bowker's script - the first in a series of modern interpretations of Chaucer's tales - offered a clever variation on this scene in which a heated-up microphone stand was used as the offensive weapon. This also provided the excuse for another appearance by James Nesbitt's bottom, seen so often on TV that it deserves its own Equity card.

The Cold Feet star was naughty Nick, who caught sight and sound of young Alison (Billie Piper) at the karaoke microphone in a rundown pub and decided he wouldn't mind a duet of a sexual nature with her.

The fact that she was married didn't deter him. Nick could sweet-talk his way into anyone's knickers, especially as Alison's older husband John (Dennis Waterman) was a miserable old git. Then again, as someone pointed out, "You'd be moody if the whole town wanted to jump your missus".

Posing as a record producer wanting to make Alison a star, Nick wormed his way into their lives. He had to be sly about it as, when not giving away hand-crafted bird tables as prizes in the karaoke competition, John was muttering ominously: "If I thought there was anyone else, I'd kill him."

The complication comes in the shape of Danny, another karaoke singer who also fancies Alison and whose intrusion on their love tryst leads to the unauthorised use of a microphone stand.

Bowker's script was suitably bawdy in a Carry On sort of way, replacing Chaucer's old English with modern phrases such as "I swear on Kylie's arse".

Nesbitt was smoothly seductive as devilish Nick and Piper proved that, if she gets fed up with staying at home as Mrs Chris Evans, she could make a decent living as an actress.

Good as they were, they couldn't elevate this saucy tale above the average. I hope this episode doesn't represent the best the series of six has to offer.