Just eat your heart out, Mr Holmes.

WITH crime-scene investigator Horatio Caine around, it's a mystery why anyone attempts to get away with murder. The guilty party in this week's story, Just One Kiss, thought he'd destroyed the evidence by burning his clothes after committing rape and murder.

Then along comes Caine, whose team find minute glass fragments in the teeth of a jacket zipper. "Glass melts at twenty-seven hundred degrees Fahrenheit but wood fire only gets up to one thousand - and Hamilton couldn't have known that," he explained.

Who would? With a mind like that, criminals don't stand a chance. Even Sherlock Holmes would have been impressed by the investigator who deduced from the rash on the dead man's hands that he worked as a bartender. His was "occupational dermatitis" which you get "from squeezing a lot of lemons or limes in direct sunlight".

Add talk of the float density of glass from a champagne bottle, skin cells found in a watch band, and penile tissue (left behind in a painful accident involving a girl's dental restraint), and you have a cast iron case against the prime suspect. As Caine himself proclaimed: "The evidence, as always, will speak for itself".

CSI:Miami, like its parent CSI: Crime Scene Investigator, doesn't go in for complex characterisation. Plot and the intricacies of forensics work are everything. There was a token effort to introduce human conflict by giving Caine a previous history with the rich, influential family under suspicion. But once he had the evidence, Caine, just like the killer with a broken bottle, went straight for the jugular and brought the murderer to justice.

I'm guilty of never being a particular fan of Cold Feet. The opening episode of the fifth - and, we're promised, final series - did nothing to convince me to desert the awful trashiness of Footballers' Wives in favour of this predictable tale of six thirtysomethings with more money than sense.

The 90-minute per episode format stretched the material unduly thinly. Mike Bullen's script was sometimes smart and amusing, and performances by now-familiar faces were fine. But nobody did anything we hadn't seen dozens or times before.

Adam (James Nesbit) and Rachel (Helen Baxendale) now have a much-longed for baby. Pete (John Thomson) has a new wife (Kimberley Joseph). David (Robert Bathurst) and Karen (Hermione Norris) are planning a divorce.

Rachel was ignoring Adam in favour of the infant. She couldn't bear to leave the child alone, and imagined he was ill all the time. "So you don't think it's conjunctivitis, that yellow stuff?" she asked.

"It's just a bit of sleep, isn't it?" replied Adam, then adding: "I always fancied three in a bed" as Rachel insisted on having the baby share their sleeping space for the night.

Pete's new marriage was overcrowded too. His mother moved in after being evicted from sheltered accommodation. Soon she was Hoovering at three in the morning and smoking pot with her new daughter-in-law. How hilarious!

As for David and Karen, as soon as they agreed on a civilised divorce, you knew things would turn ugly. By the end they were competing to see who could be nastiest in a tug-of-war over their children.

The only saving grace for Adam was taking baby Matthew out for walks. He found having a nipper strapped to his chest attracted much female attention. Matthew was, literally, a babe magnet.