ON HEARING the BBC were planning a new drama mini-series The Bodyguard, the first thought was could this be a remake of the 1992 classic movie starring Whitney Houston and Kevin Costner?”

Having watched the two openers in the series it most certainly is.

At no point does desperate-for-protection Home Secretary Julia Montegue (the irrepresible Keeley Hawes) sing I’m Every Woman, but she acts out the sentiment of the song from the outset as she asserts her formidability.

As we all know, the original Whit and Kev Bodyguard told the story of a pop diva with Caligulan tendencies who finds her life threatened (not, surprisingly, by one of the assistants whom she ritually humiliates) but by a mad fiend.

And so she calls upon the services of an ex-serviceman to protect her.

Lo and behold, this this Beeb version also features a diva who treats her staff like Sri Lankan factory workers and calls upon the services of an ex-serviceman, played by Richard Madden, to thwart a mad fiend.

As in the film, this drama sees the female rail against his extensive protection techniques and thinks him paranoid. Meanwhile, Sarge Budd, like Kev, reveals a hard-working, Sherlock-like ability to spot danger..

But all the time he works hardest at preventing even a hint of a smile from hitting his face. Just to help with character development, like Costner’s version, he too suffers from PTSD. Perfect.

Given the parallel lines, came as no surprise when we learned that what the HS really wanted was protection from her own stone-cold heart.

It was certainly no shocker to discover that Sgt Budd didn’t believe this Caligulan creature wasn’t mad enough to make her horse a senator after all.

And again, we had two damaged people who were really thinking “Ooh, I wanna dance with somebody.”

Yes, lots of kissey-kissey ensued. And it was flimsy fun. Yet, given this plot predictability, the viewer can’t keep on dancing forever.

And already two hours seems a long time.

First Dates Hotel, Channel 4.

LOTS of real kissey-kissey emerged in this return to the blind date concept,set in an idyllic Italian hotel, and as always it was engrossing.

Hope sprung eternal for the tattooed policewoman and her lovely Viking, (ah, nice) but while the two gay guys were all over each other like a rash on meeting, the next day both were swabbing themselves with the TCP of cold reality.

But each week brings new possibility, and belief that every jar really does have a lid.

The Great British Bake Off, Channel 4.

NEVER having watched this series before, the initial feeling is I’m not about to start anytime soon.

I’ve learned I don’t really care who can make the best Wagonwheel, or that one contestant with a D’Artagnan moustache can produce a cake featuring an impressionistic picture of his own coupon.

However, did have to laugh at the cake/art section when his opponent attempted to create a father-baby feature - which looked more like he was holding onto his very large fondant.

And it did seem that the lady who said she looked like Michael McInyre was talented, given her produce all looked very taste.

But this whole concept for me tastes of anxiety. Everything is about a rush, and I have to say I can’t look at Paul Hollywood without thinking about his affair with the barmaid and how delusional he is.

And I used to like Sandi Toskvig, but this little person presenter was a bit cruel in taking one fella to task for being sweaty. “You’re a bit sweaty, aren’t you?” she said in her gymkhana voice. “I suppose I am said the sweaty bloke.

What did she expect? He’s working in an oven and being told every three seconds the clock is up against him.

And don’t get me started on the the bloke from the Might Boosh with the heavy eyeliner. What is he meant to be doing?

Sadly, I can appreciate the passion of the contestants but I didn’t care about the contest. And here’s the thing; how can viewers really feel partisan when we can’t taste the product.

It all left me with the thought that cakes are best bought in a cake shop.