OH to be young-ish and irresponsible. TV appears to be focusing even harder lately on the pathetic plight of Britain's shiftless group aged late-20s to bordering 40 who seem to be looking for love, a home, a job, a future and, to be quite honest, a life worth living. As my wife approaches a birthday I'm not allowed to mention - think Hawaii and 'book him Danno' - she shows little enthusiasm about discovering what life is like at 70.

"Why the hell should I be interested?" she said politely. Luckily, Trading Ages (BBC2, Tuesday) produced irresponsible 32-year-old Londoner Nick Sydney who hadn't done anything since completing his A-levels at 18 and still lived at home. He agreed to be turned into a septuagenarian using make-up and a wig and joined his gran's circle of friends or "cackling old hens" as my wife quickly dubbed them. The wonders of the 5p a ticket raffle to win tins of salmon and economy beans, the annual Eastbourne coach trip and old time music hall entertainment left Nick in few doubts about his life in 40 years time. He felt his iPod generation are going to want far more than a wander along the promenade and two plain Janes struggling through an amateurish version of Riverdance.

My wife automatically warmed to layabout Nick as he fits into that category of malleable young men who need a boot up the bum in the right direction. If he'd been tattooed, lip-ringed with his socks tucked in his trousers and a Burberry-style cap jammed on his head, the entertainment value would drop to that of Ian Wright's I'd Do Anything.

The TV cameras moved closer to the region for the final episode of Property Dreams (five, last night) as Karena James from Morpeth outlined the idea of buying a party pad near the centre of Newcastle and a holiday home in Greece. About to turn 40, the head of IT at Kenton College had her entire world packed in the boot of her car and slept at her mother's house. Apparently, she likes to be spontaneous.

"What a silly bitch, it's hardly spontaneous when everything's already in the back of the car," said my granny-bashing co-commentator. In fact Miss J turned out to be highly conventional and difficult to please. She was introduced to Newcastle's weekly property auction where ageing Benwell terraced homes are being snapped up for £45,000-£55,000 - turned into two flats, you live above and rent out below for £350 a month. "No students," said the teacher uncharitably. Next came a Cephalonian apartment (inspired by Captain Corelli's Mandolin) for around £65,000. Of the £140,000 pledged to the two projects, most was coming from Miss J's "I've got the right" decision to buy her mum's council house for £19,000 and a loan taken out on its latest value of £110,000.

"What happens if she gets too spontaneous? Does her mum lose her home?" asked my practical other half.