The Best Man (ITV1)

Brian Sewell's Grand Tour (five)

HERE'S a little tip that might save your life one day: if you're being pursued by a psychopathic killer don't take refuge in a clifftop house with a fence in a state of disrepair.

Kate failed to heed this advice in The Best Man. She had the excuse of being in a state of shock, having heard her pet cat being tortured over the telephone. Not so much a chat line as a cat line.

The Best Man was another of ITV1's two-part psychological dramas. This one concerned best friends who shared a terrible secret from their schooldays and should not be confused with Love Lies Bleeding, shown a few weeks ago, which was about best friends who shared a terrible secret from their schooldays.

This latest benefited from a decent cast with Richard Coyle and Toby Stephens as schoolmates who looked after each other through thick and thin - and murder. "Peter looked out for me so I owe him," explained Michael.

Keeley Hawes was the poor lass who married one, putting her (and her moggy) at risk from his jealous best friend. I knew their relationship was doomed because marrying someone you meet at a rehabilitation centre, where you're recovering from a suicide bid, is never advisable.

Brian Sewell met tourists from Southport on the slopes of "the suppurating boil" that was Vesuvius during his Grand Tour. He tired quickly of their conversation and cut the encounter short, not by making an excuse to leave but by being rude about the woman's hair.

She would have been glad to see him on his trip across the Bay of Naples to the dormant volcano as rough seas caused Sewell to feel queasy. He had to lie down to avoid throwing up.

The crater of Vesuvius itself proved a big disappointment. "You can't make sublimity out of this," he declared surveying the dull landscape. "It doesn't even look as if it's hot. The thing is just mud."

He seemed happier in Naples, where sea breezes made the air fresher in summer. Grand Tourists of old would lease a house overlooking the sands where the entertainment consisted of watching naked peasants bathe every day.

Now we were getting to what those 18th century tourists really did on their holidays. "You may think the Grand Tour is about politics, culture and art, and you would be right, but it's also about gambling and drink and sex, particularly sex. They came across it everywhere."

Naples claimed to be the brothel of Europe. In the National Archaeological Museum, exhibits showed how fast and loose the Pompeians had become. There were phallic-shaped objects for every situation, including door knockers and ones used by virgins for experience in the days before battery-operated devices.

Sometimes tourists, like the writer Boswell, ended up in unexpected places. He wrote in his diary of unwittingly hooking up with a transvestite prostitute and "too late discovered she was a boy but had gone too far to disengage".

Anything Goes, Darlington Civic Theatre

THERE'S certainly more than a glimpse of stocking aboard Cole Porter's magnificent musical as two major dance numbers erupt on stage and somehow manage to float their boat on the small area not occupied by the set. Stairs, viewing deck, funnel and a spinning central area which becomes everything from a nightclub to a cell promotes the story of confident all-singing, all-dancing stowaway Billy Crocker (Chris Ellis Stanton) trying to woo his girl Hope Harcourt (Ashley Lilley) away from wonderfully bumbling fiance Lord Evelyn Oakley (Antony Reed).

Hope's horrendous mother makes an achievable musical debut for the multi-talented Angela Rippon, who displays that famous high kick to loud cheers from the capacity audience. She's comically pursued by randy old multi-millionaire Elisha Whitney (Barry Howard).

Three performers steal the show. The Bronx ball-buster Reno Sweeney displays the major talents of West End star Ria Jones, while brainless gangster's moll Erma is an eye-catching performance from Middlesbrough's own globe-trotting showgirl Dawn Spence. But the crowd-pleaser of the night is Moonface Martin, Michael Starke's gangster disguised as a tommy-gun carrying cleric. He gives few signs he's never toured an old-style show before and every word or gesture registered a laugh. A full sail success.

l Runs until Saturday. Box Office: (01325) 486555

Viv Hardwick