Blackpool (BBC1)

What The Butler Saw (C4)

YOU'LL either be for or against Blackpool from the opening scene as the characters are introduced singing along to Elvis Presley's Viva Las Vegas.

Comparisons with Dennis Potter's The Singing Detective are inevitable and, just as inevitably, Blackpool will be found wanting. Partly, this is because the actors don't mime to old records but sing along karaoke-style. It's neither one thing nor the other.

Peter Bowker's drama is bright, brash and bold - full of characters as colourful as the neon signs that dazzle the viewer from every angle.

The musical numbers may be little more than a gimmick but they do bolster what seems a fairly run-of-the-mill story with David Morrissey pouring his heart and soul into entrepreneur Ripley Holden.

It's gold rush time in Blackpool, with Holden's new amusement arcade only the tip of the iceberg. Next year, he's planning to open a casino and hotel.

In real life, you wouldn't be able to stand more than five minutes in his company, which is probably why wife Natalie (Sarah Parrish, wasted so far) looks so bored. She works for the Samaritans, although her own life is in a mess.

Holden's dreams come crashing down when a dead body is found on the premises and the arcade is closed down while the police investigate. DI Carlisle, who's been brought in from another force ("like an emergency plumber but less well paid") to head the inquiry, is clearly going to make life difficult for Holden. But the jury is still out as to whether their clash will make Blackpool worth watching for another five episodes.

What The Butler Saw in C4's new reality show is a lot of common people pretending to be posh and being sniggered at behind their backs by the servants below stairs.

Nine of the Callaghan family, from South-East London, are going to live like the aristocracy for the next six weeks. They're staying in a £29m house in London, being waited on hand and foot by a team of servants.

There's a prize for good behaviour - £50,000 to the family member judged to have best adapted to the new life. Each week, one Callaghan will be disinherited.

What the family doesn't know is that the servants are actually the judges. Standards are high as they include head of staff Anthony, who comes from three generations of royal butlers, and Bill Clinton's former chef.

Terry, with his four-letter word swearing, and Moira, a fussy eater, were prime candidates for disinheritance in the opening instalment.

Sylvie, appointed the lady of the house, warned Terry against belching or swearing in front of the dinner party guests, who were real aristocrats. Nothing, however, could stop Moira sending her meal back to the kitchen.

What the butler has seen so far has a certain curiosity value - after all, who doesn't imagine what it would be like to live a life of luxury? - but lacks the compulsive edginess and sheer hostility of a good episode of Wife Swap.

House of Desires, People's Theatre, Newcastle

HOUSE of Desires, part of the RSC Spanish Golden Age season, was written by Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz, a 17th century Spanish nun. Thankfully, her work is far from staid. The action follows the misadventures of six lovers living beneath the same roof. Once the lights go out, nobody can tell noble from servant, or man from woman...

Despite a slow first half, the story later comes together. Simon Trinder's comic turn as the servant Castano makes the play. Disguised as a woman to deliver a sensitive message, Trinder treats us to an up-close and personal view of his metamorphosis into a simpering noblewoman. His antics include forcing an embarrassed audience member to apply his lipstick, borrowing a woman's handbag to complete his outfit, and climbing a railing to flash his petticoats, which was greeted with applause.

The play skilfully panders to popular stereotypes: the women are feisty, the men easily fooled, while the servants are really running the show. Katherine Kelly excels as Celia, the sarcastic meddling housemaid.

Ghostly lighting to suggest darkness is used to great effect, allowing us to observe characters fumbling in the dark, bouncing off each other and jumping to ridiculous conclusions. The play is packed with gags and innuendo, although the plot is predictable for those familiar with comedies of the period.

l Runs until November 27. Box Office: 0870 905 5060

Rachel Bignell

Gilbert O'Sullivan, The Berry Vest Of Tour, York Opera House

THIN, gaunt-featured with a halo of Shaft-like hair, one of the 1970s most creative songwriters seats himself at an electric keyboard at the front of the stage, wearing a smock-like shirt with floppy pink sleeves. O'Sullivan's hermit-like existence on Jersey for the past 18 years seems all too evident at first as he slides through two unfamiliar songs and glances up just once. Then the classic Nothing Rhymed from 1970 hits the spot and O'Sullivan the slightly eccentric showman takes over.

The night before, 1,000 packed in to see him perform at Southport, a wretchedly cold York reduces the attendance to a few hundred. But there are plenty of diehard fans who bang off digital flash cameras and show scant concern for normal theatre etiquette.

O'Sullivan appears unmoved, enjoys some banter with onlookers and earns a round of applause for slating York's traffic system. He even addresses the question of why he's still touring after 35 years in showbusiness, though can't quite bring himself to reveal the exact year of his last visit to York ("19-ull-la-la").

Mixed in with tracks from his current new album Piano Foreplay are the ones that millions can sing along to. Clare, We Will, No Matter, Get Down, Why Oh Why and the controversial A Woman's Place (is in the home), from 1974, are finally followed by the tear-jerker Alone Again. Memory Lane was never more attractive.

Viv Hardwick