Life in the Undergrowth (BBC1)

Deep Blue: Octopus Odyssey (five)

THERE was a point in the opening part of David Attenborough's new series when it all got a bit surreal. I think it was around the time that the two slugs started getting jiggy as they hung from a branch by a rope of slime. As they wrapped around each other, each produced a penis from behind its head, and as the penises grew they, too, became entwined. Once it was all over, they fell to the floor, presumably exhausted, each to await the arrival of the slither of tiny slugs.

I could take the spring tail, just half a millimetre long, which can catapult itself six inches into the air. Six inches might not sound a lot, but if you're the size of a full stop, it's pretty impressive. The equivalent to a human jumping over the Eiffel Tower. I could take the foot-long millipede which catches bats. I could even take the six foot-long earthworm. But slug sex seemed to be pushing it a bit, even if it was post-watershed.

Life in the Undergrowth is Sir David's answer to all those who thought he'd run out of things to film. He's done mammals, birds, the Antarctic, the oceans - the world pretty much seemed covered. But now he's turned his attention a little closer to home, for some people a little too close. He says it's only now that technology has allowed us to see these creatures in all their glory, but the reticence in bringing them to our screens may also have something to do with the yuk factor.

There's nothing cuddly about the subjects of this series, nothing that makes you want to go aaah! If they're not slimy, they're creepy; if they're not oozy, they're crawly - but, amazingly, Life in the Undergrowth gives them characters of their own, although it stops short of making them loveable.

Best of all was the huntsman, a relative of the spider. The male huntsman tends his nest in much the same way as Arthur Fowler looked after his allotment, in the hope a passing female will come along and like what she sees and tip him the wink. As he scurried about, picking up each egg and cleaning it, you half expected him to smooth in the Brylcreem and give himself a cheeky wink in the mirror.

There was more animal sex in Octopus Odyssey, a fascinating exploration of one of the most elusive marine creatures. A male octopus - which has a mouth where its private parts should be, in case you were interested - has a special arm equipped with little packets full of sperm. Chancing on a willing female, the male inflates the arm inside the female and pumps away.

This can take hours, and as any gentleman knows, it can be hard to retain the female's interest. Sometimes she gets a bit bored, and wanders off looking for food, dragging the poor male behind her until his grip is broken. It's a scene you come across every Saturday night in the Bigg Market, but somehow it's a little more beautiful when octopuses are involved.