On TV last night

My Life In Film (BBC3)

JOHN Grundy is an endangered species. Not because he spent the entire episode of Grundy's Wonders stuffing himself with cream cakes and coffee.

He's under threat as the presenter of a regional non-news programme from North-East broadcaster Tyne Tees. Plans from broadcasting regulator Ofcom could spell the end of such shows in an age when more TV channels somehow seems to mean less choice.

Series like Grundy's Wonders and Dales Diary do very well in their slots against EastEnders but ITV1 can, presumably, save money by filling the time with something else.

This is bad news for those who feel regional programmes serve a useful purpose and are a welcome respite from the London-based series that dominate the schedules. You have until the end of next week to put your views to Ofcom (which has closed most of its regional offices and retreated to its posh London HQ) and try to save regional programmes.

Meanwhile, Grundy was spending Tyne Tees' budget for probably the rest of the year, by taking tea and cakes in cafes, tea shops, snack bars, milk and coffee bars around the region.

Coffee, he explained, was a pick-me-up "discovered" by an Ethiopian goatherder. The French - "typically the French" - used coffee enemas to sweeten the lower bowel and improve the complexion. "Now there's a use for your coffee bags," said Grundy, although personally, I'd hesitate to shove one where the sun don't shine.

Coffee was the first real alternative to alcohol. Tea followed closely behind. There was no stopping Grundy now as he took tea and cakes at Betty's in Harrogate, in Valley Gardens tea room in the same town and at a country house in Alnwick.

Then he was off to Scarborough and a milk bar on the seafront. Disappointingly, he didn't have a mug of steaming Horlicks with which my childhood seaside holidays usually concluded. Grundy was busy eating ice cream and enthusing about Formica, the bright, cheap, cheerful and easy-to-clean surface used in milk bars.

The Grundy's Wonder award went to the Caf Riviera - or Caf Rivi ra, as there was a letter missing in the sign - in Newbiggin-by-the-sea. The business is up for sale and Grundy couldn't bear to think of this place going, along with the loss of a little bit of his childhood. In its own way, TV would be poorer with Grundy and his regional friends.

My Life In Film is a comedy series with a novel premise, namely that each episode about would-be film-maker Art (Kris Marshall) is done in the style of a different movie. This week, it was Fellini's Eight-And-A-Half, as Art was recruited to shoot a friend's wedding video.

He agonised over getting it right. "My work lacks substance - no depth, no meaning, no plot and ending, a lack of three dimensional characters," he said.

His friend had the answer. "Why don't you turn it into a sit-com," he suggested.

Anyone for Breakfast? Gala Theatre, Durham

DEREK Benfield's "comedy of marital mishaps" aims to be a crowd-pleaser. It fails. The announcement that popular Neighbours actor Shane Connor would not be appearing was booed, and the audience's mood did not improve. People fidgeted throughout, and some did not return for the second half. A couple in front of me opted to provide their own entertainment.

The laboured plot revolves around three couples, each person dallying with another's spouse. Such situations have great humorous potential, unfortunately not realised here. The highly predictable storyline drags, requiring heavy duty suspension of disbelief. "Oh, are you a burglar?" says one husband to the man caught in flagrante with his wife. Each opportunity for confrontation is ludicrously avoided, and the action grinds ever onward.

The best comedy is unintentional, such as the 'German' air hostess who sounds Italian or, when aggravated, Welsh. Alex Bell from Hollyoaks' appearance on stage in a dressing gown is a pleasant diversion, and his acting isn't bad either. Yet this alone cannot save the show.

The female characters conform to hackneyed stereotypes, and their voices could cut glass. Meet the dowdy wife, the neurotic married woman drooling over her toy boy, and the racy foreign bimbo. The men are no better, falling over themselves to impress, yet oblivious of their own cuckolding.

This bed-hopping burlesque is badly plotted, leading the cast to overact in an attempt to breathe life into a cringeworthy farce. It is little wonder that the implausible dialogue and forced delivery left the audience cold.

l Runs until Saturday.

Box Office: 0191-332 4041

Rachel Bignell