On TV

Great Ocean Adventures: Galapagos Dinosaur (five)

WHERE do they find these people? I'd have thought Bill Brown, sex club owner and drug addict, would have wanted to remain discreetly in the shadows rather than have a camera crew dog his every move.

But no, there he was taking drugs, boasting of his sexual conquests and talking about the prostitutes who populated his Club Inferno in Southern Spain.

Brown fled this country 20 years ago - after some unspecified trouble - for a holiday in Spain and never came home. Marbella is, apparently, "a playground for the rich and famous" where organised crime, drugs and prostitution are rife. The sex industry alone is worth one billion euros annually and employs around 40,000 people.

Some of them work at Club Inferno. That's Spanish for hell, although owning the place is Brown's little bit of heaven.

Prostitution is illegal but the authorities turn a blind eye as long as the 100 or so sex clubs are disguised as nightclubs. Brown can take over 2,000 euros a night renting out rooms in his club. He splits the money 50/50 with the women, mainly from Africa and Eastern Europe, who entertain customers.

This was all eye-opening stuff, even to those of us who seem to spend hours watching documentaries about the seedier side of life.

Brown had definite opinions. "Women want security, men want sex," he said. He made it sound as if he was doing social work the way he talked about helping his women earn a living and escape from poverty in their own country.

He's had the same girlfriend, Natasha, for two years following a string of failed relationships. At 24, she's half his age. He seemed fonder of drugs, taking cocaine on camera.

Brown got his comeuppance after neighbours complained about his club and the police closed down the place. He ended up behind bars for drug trafficking. Even then he couldn't leave the camera alone, phoning the film-makers to let them know his situation.

Released on bail, his final word was to promise that if it looked like he was going to jail, he intended to scarper - presumably followed by a camera crew.

Monty Hall was turned on not by drugs but by the wildlife of the Galapagos Islands in Great Ocean Adventure. He was particularly keen to swim with marine iguanas, which you can't see anywhere else in the world.

He achieved his aim on the last day of his trip. There were remarkable shots of these creatures eating algae. They also dine out on seaweed and occasionally the afterbirth of sea lions. Not exactly the sort of menu you find in a top class London restaurant.

Halls also told us that the marine iguana is one of the few species to have two penises (or should that be peni?). Unfortunately for the more inquisitive viewers, we didn't see them in action. They were shyer than Bill Brown.

Imogen Cooper, The Sage Gateshead

AN audience at the Sage Gateshead was treated to a display of piano playing at its finest when Imogen Cooper took to the stage with Northern Sinfonia. The short curtain raiser came in the shape of a Ravel fanfare, under the baton of Yannick Nezet-Seguin. Cooper opened with an exuberant rendition of Mozart's Piano Concerto No 9, which fully conveyed the score's youthful spirit. The strings were supportive and sympathetic, while Cooper's attacks were emphatic and her trills exhilarating. Her notes seemed to hang in suspended animation as she glided gracefully through the minuet, while in the lightning dash to the climax, her fingers became a veritable blur though she never faltered. Breathtaking.

Nezet-Seguin then gave a thoughtful and refined account of Ravel's Pavane pour une infante defunte. The work's subtle shades and variations were lovingly shaped by superb woodwinds. Cooper held the audience spellbound with Mozart's Piano Concerto No 23. The adagio, one of Mozart's most beautiful slow movements, was not so much moulded as caressed into shape, supported by the gentlest of string work.

Listening to Cooper's take on the allegro was the visual equivalent of seeing a morning sun sparkling through a shimmering fountain. Something to behold. The evening was wrapped up with Ravel's Le Tombeau de Couperin. Written as a tribute to those who died in the First World War, it was drawn to a gossamer fine ending.

The only disconcerting aspect to the evening was the explosive eruption of coughing between movements, which begs the question: if the urge can be suppressed for 15 minutes, why not wait a little longer for the applause to mask the noise?

Gavin Engelbrecht