TV dinners

FUNNY, aren't they, the rules on watching animals get killed. Two cockerels in a cage? Inhumane. A fox nipped by a dog? Disgusting, apparently. A deer torn apart by a tiger? No problem - so long as it's on the BBC, with a nice middle-class narrator.

Heck, we'll even whack it on before the watershed.

Mind, if you're expecting a killing spree, this documentary, filmed in central India, will disappoint. Apparently, cameras have caught a tiger catching its supper just once.

Simon King and his Indian colleague Alphonse Roy aim to double that.

Alphonse has been trying to film a tiger kill for 17 years, without success. Which isn't surprising, after seeing his methods. Does he hide cameras in coconuts? No. Does he lie in the grass, camouflage covering his crew? No.

He stalks the tigers on an elephant. Seriously.

It's hardly covert. And, of course, it's not just him on poor Nelly's back, there's the camera, the soundman, the runner. It's like three second-row forwards in the back of a Fiesta.

Simon is dismayed by Alphonse's methods and opts, instead, to watch the tigers from an old watchtower, with perfect views of the savannah.

I'm not sure why in his 17 years Alphonse didn't think of that.

S o u n d m a n : "Are you sure we wo u l d - n't be better in that watchtower? We might not scare the tigers as easily."

Alphonse: "Nonsense! Just tell the elephant to keep his head down. And fetch him some slippers at once."

Simon is pleasant, but pompous. He talks to colleagues on a walkie-talkie and ends each sentence with "over", even though no one else does. He's like a seven-year-old with a new toy from Argos. Listen, son, you're not in the Army now.

Early on, Simon sees his first wild tiger. His - supposedly unscripted - response? "That is magnificent. You think you know a tiger from watching them but I can tell you now, the first time you see one in the flesh, in the wild, it contains a majesty and power that is unsurpassed."

That's what I call spontaneous language.

There is decent footage. At one point, a tiger leaves its cubs in a cave. While it's away, a bear comes to eat the cubs. The tiger gets back in time, whacks the bear, then chases it away. It reminded me of reporting magistrates' court, watching CCTV footage of the latest lads' street brawl.

Simon talks excitedly about "predation" - killing to me and you - and, bizarrely, the "fundamental beauty of the final embrace".

If a tiger mauling a deer is his idea of a beautiful final embrace, he must have been awfully disappointed when he read Romeo and Juliet.

But, with Alphonse lumbering on his elephant, that final embrace is elusive. The tiger they have been stalking for days, Chakra, disappears.

Apparently, Simon says, she's gone to the high plateau. Not surprising, really.

Chakra's son: "Mum! Those weirdos on elephants are stalking us again."

Chakra: "Get your stuff. We'll go to the plateau for a bit. I'd like to see Nelly get up those rocks, the fat cow."

Eventually, after 17 years, Alphonse gets his final embrace. The show ends with the tiger striding through fields, the deer's neck in its teeth. Ain't that romantic.

If I had to pick one comedian for a tiger to embrace, it would be Russell Brand. I hate him, even though I've never watched one minute of his shows. And that's the thing.

You don't have to choose to watch him, he's everywhere, like muck in a field. Big Brother, St Trinian's, his book he's even got a football column in The Guardian. In fact, I read that once. Reassuringly, I hated it.

Tonight, for a change, he's on Channel Four. For an hour, he does tiresome, shrieking stand-up, and introduces new acts. Perhaps his next show could be "Russell Brand Films a Tiger Kill". Hopefully, it'll take him 17 years, too.