The In crowd

MEN behaving badly or teenagers behaving disgracefully.

Take your pick between The Invisibles and The Inbetweeners.

The former has the better pedigree with a cast led by Anthony Head, Warren Clarke and Dean Lennox Kelly. Unfortunately, The Invisibles emerges as a strange beast. One of those shows that's neither comedy nor drama, falling somewhere inbetween and satisfying the needs of neither category.

At least The Inbetweeners achieves what it sets out to do - to make us laugh at the sex, booze and acne escapades of a group of hapless, helpless, hopeless sixth form lads.

And I laughed. Okay, it was the bit where Simon projectile vomited on the seven-yearold boy he was babysitting. I found it funny, even if the little lad didn't.

But back to those Invisibles. They're a pair of ex-criminals, Maurice (Head) and his dumb mate Syd (Clarke), who give up their life of luxury on the Costa del Crime for retirement in dear old England.

"There's only so much sun, sea and sangria one can manage in one's lifetime," is the best explanation Maurice gives for returning.

His wife (Jenny Agutter) is pleased to be back home, eager for a cup of tea and a trip round M&S.

Despite their protests that "we've hung up our boots" - ie they're going straight - it's obvious that they'll be back to their old criminal ways before long. The catalyst is Syd's son getting in debt to a thug who threatens to break various limbs if the money isn't repaid.

Maurice and Syd indulge in a spot of breaking and entering to repay the money.

"The Invisibles - they're back. There's no car I can't drive, no alarm I can't silence,"

crows Syd, just before making a right mess of their comeback break-in.

Dean Lennox Kelly is on their heels as a dodgy pub landlord who knows all about their past, telling them: "You two were my guiding light". A criminal threesome must be on the cards in future episodes.

Breaking the law is difficult, especially for the four suburban teenagers at the heart of The Inbetweeners, a comedy without any pretensions of seriousness. That's best left to the likes of Skins.

Will begins by supplying a list of things he hoped wouldn't happen in his life - his dad leaving his mum, being taken out of private education and forced to go to a state school, and the school psycho taking a dislike to him.

Part of the trouble is the label he has to wear on the first day at his new school bearing the words MY NAME IS WILL, STOP ME AND SAY HELLO. It's like wearing a target on his chest. His new school mates know exactly who to ridicule and humiliate. His blazer and briefcase don't help him blend in with the crowd either.

One saving grace is his mother, who comes to pick him up in a sports car. "Your mum is so fit she could be a prostitute," someone remarks.

The first of a double helping of The Inbetweeners has Will trying to make friends. Difficult when the school bully takes a photo of you sitting on the toilet and posts it on the noticeboard. He finds a friend in Simon, who lusts after luscious Kylie, and his friends Jay and Neil. The first day at school is celebrated with a night out at the pub. Never mind that they're not old enough to buy alcohol.

Playing frisbee rather than football in the park ("not a cool place but a good place to stare at girls") doesn't work out well as Will hits a disabled girl in the face with the frisbee.

Putting on Simon's dad's suit to look older and buy booze from the off-licence works, up to a point. If only they could hold their drink, which is where Simon and the puked-upon child comes in. And should I mention Will manages to accuse Neil's dad of being both gay and a child abuser?

The Inbetweeners won't win any prizes for subtlety - it's more like American Pie than Tom Brown's Schooldays.