Kitsch: ain't what it used to be

Did they think we wouldn't notice? Randall and Hopkirk has been replaced by the notionally identical slice of Sixties kitsch The Champions. BBC2 imagines that we sad people who are hook to the Man from UNCLE slot will watch any old tosh al long as there's enough Pan-stick and everyone's in a single-breasted suit. Error. Randall and Hopkirk was at least entertaining in its own right, not merely nostalgia for baby boomers trainspotting the paraphernalia of their formative years. And it was funny. The Champions is not. Which is surprising given the format (a barbie and two Kens acquire super powers after crash-landing in the Lost Horizons of Tibet).

It starts off promisingly enough. All commercial adventures made a point of screening a few seconds of tantalising plot before the opening credits. And what credits they were. Randall and Hopkirk, The Persuaders and The Prisoner managed to download the entire set-up in the time it took to crack open a can of Long Life and a packet of cheese footballs. It saved time and saved boring the viewer with the same old explanation - "Leading the fight, one man Fate has made indestructible" etc. The opening episode of The Champions explains exactly how the run-resist Alexandra Bastedo is able to raise her Mini with a flick of the wrist but subsequent adventures fill you with a boring old voice-over.

Anyway. Po-faced rubbish. Will I be watching it? Do Stuart Damon's suits stay pressed?