SO, FOUR weeks into this column and, looking back, it could probably be argued I haven't taken serious telly very, well seriously.

There has been no analysis of an insightful documentary, no review of a work of high-end televisual culture and the only reference to current affairs was a reference to too much Salford on North West Tonight.

I set about to change all that last Friday night. Really, I did. With Mrs Higgerson out for the evening and baby H tucked up for the night, I began searching through the electronic programme guide for something which might be called serious. Or at least worthy.

BBC FOUR was my destination but then I hit a problem. BBC THREE pops up a channel before BBC FOUR, and there it was: Sun … Sex and Suspicious Parents (BBC 3, 10.30pm, Fridays) .

The road to hell is paved with good intentions, and in this case, Hell was served up support from the licence fee. Although, hard to admit as this is, there is something quite attention-grabbing about car crash TV – and this certainly fits that bill.

The premise is simple. Teenagers go away on holiday to somewhere hot for the first time, and get up to, well, you know. The hook is that they go away with the TV cameras and their parents are watching everything they get up to. While also on the same holiday. After a week watching their children do the sorts of things parents should perhaps never want to witness – heavy boozing, even heavier petting, for example – they confront the youngsters.

Of course, the shock of the youngsters when they realise their parents have seen everything is supposed to be the highlight of the programme. But they've just spent a week being followed around by TV cameras – what did they expect? Did Asher, a rugby player from South Wales, really expect his “what goes on abroad, stays abroad” fling to remain outside the Valleys when he had a TV camera outside his bedroom door?

Did peroxide blond teen Charlie, whose mum was proud that her boy wanted to keep his virginity for the right girl, really expect to keep playing that charade when he got home, after the cameras saw him disappear off with a young, er, lady?

The fact he was confused the next morning as to whether he was still a virgin says much for the education system in Cambridge. No surprise he ended up a hairdresser rather than a student in the city of dreaming spires.

But here's the bit I really don't get. This is the start of series two. How can they maintain the element of surprise? Did they record series one and two at once, or is it proof that, unlike Asher's affair, what goes on on BBC 3 tends to stay on BBC 3? Turn on, tune in, cop, well, you know.

OK, so here goes with a bit of serious telly then. Question Time (BBC1, 10.35pm, Thursdays) used to be about elected politicians answering questions. Last week, we had just one elected politician on the panel – Tory Philip Hammond. There was a Dame – Shirley Williams – the never-elected Alastair Campbell and the self-righteous Steve Coogan. And former Daily Mail columnist Ann Leslie.

As set-ups for guaranteed rows go, it was brilliant. As a way to guarantee political debate among those who can influence it goes, it was an utter failure.

Coogan and Campbell on the same panel in the same week they'd won payouts from the News Of The World? Anyone would think the BBC had an agenda.

This week: I'm watching Downton Abbey. Sorry, I meant Upstairs Downstairs (BBC1, 9.30pm, Sunday). I actually preferred it to Downtown when the mini series aired last year. High hopes and all that.