On TV

WHEN he was 19, Horatio Nelson decided what he wanted to be. But his ambition wasn't to be an astronaut, a film star or a footballer, or whatever the 18th century equivalents were. He wrote in his diary: "Well then, I will be a hero, and confident in providence I will brave every danger."

And he did become a hero. The son of an impoverished parson, he joined the Royal Navy at 12 and became Britain's greatest ever combat commander. This October marks the 200th anniversary of his greatest victory, defeating a combined French and Spanish fleet at Trafalgar and scuppering Napoleon's plans to invade Britain.

Nelson's Trafalgar was the first salvo in what is sure to be a fusillade of tributes to our navel hero's finest hour. Michael Portillo promised to get behind the myths to expose the man, and tell us how his greatest victory was very nearly snatched from his grasp at the last minute.

It wasn't quite what it said on the tin, and not just because it was more a potted biography than a concentration on Trafalgar itself. For all its dramatisations and recreated battles, it was more a reminder of what should be familiar to every schoolchild than a programme to change the way we saw our hero and his triumphs.

Portillo did look at the man as well as the commander. At how his time learning the ropes at sea gave him an empathy and compassion for his men, which in turn inspired trust and devotion. How he despaired at his childless marriage. How he fell instantly in love with Emma, Lady Hamilton, and moved in with her and her husband in what sounds like a very frosty domestic arrangement. And how, when Emma fell pregnant, he paid off his wife so he could play happy families with his mistress and child, creating a home more Footballer's Wives than Pride and Prejudice, filling the walls with pictures of himself.

But some mysteries remained. What drove Nelson to put his life in danger for the sake of glory? Why did he tell his daughter he was her godfather, only revealing the truth in his final letter just before Trafalgar? And, most crucial of all, why on earth would someone who suffered from seasickness think a life in the navy was a good idea?

Nelson lived just long enough to learn of his greatest triumph. Typically courageously, perhaps recklessly, he was on the deck of Victory urging his men on as it engaged in close combat with the French flagship Redoutable, when a French musketman shot him, the bullet passing through Nelson's collarbone, lung and spine. The French claimed the marksman lived to tell the tale. The British said he had been shot within minutes. Plus ca change.

Nelson was taken down below, got a kiss from Captain Hardy and died after learning the French had been routed. In the end, the promised threat to his success turned out to be a damp squib, although perhaps the French did achieve a victory of sorts. Nelson's body was pickled in French brandy before being shipped back to England.

Nor did the story end happily for the other main protagonists. Lady Hamilton was deserted by her friends and fled to Calais, where she died in poverty. Nelson's opponent, Admiral Villeneuve, stabbed himself in the heart, although the rumour was Napoleon had ordered his death. As for Nelson's daughter, Horatia, she married a curate and had ten children, although there was no word on whether his descendants are still at large.

I'll Be Back Before Midnight, Darlington Civic Theatre

WHEN three characters have acted out five and a half deaths in the final scene, then the audience is either reduced to white knuckle gibbering or laughter. Unfortunately, the latter ruled as the onlookers saw the funny side of what up until then, was an edgy drama with a strong sense of humour.

The plot of rich wife Jan Sanderson (Abigail Fisher), who has nerve-related medical problems facing a deadly conspiracy in a lonely house bears an uncanny similarity to Deathtrap by Ira Levin. But here the plotters are husband Greg (a tense-looking Andrew Lynford) and his sexy sister Laura (Georgina Redhead) who have a penchant for incest. Peter Colley's Canadian-based thriller doesn't translate well to what appears to be rural Wales judging by the accent of the excellent Tony Scannell, who hams it up delightfully as local yokel George Willowby. Even deep in the valleys, one suspects that farmers aren't silly enough to hand over loaded revolvers to city guests "for their own protection". But when Jan screams for the umpteenth time as the "dodgy wiring" plunges the house into semi-gloom, you begin to wish that any passing stranger will do the decent thing and put her out of her misery.

The final dramatic twists are rather telegraphed when you only have four characters, and two have definitely bitten the dust, but the rest is an enjoyable piece of hokum.

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Viv Hardwick