Nazi Pop Twins
 Channel 4, 10.30pm

We non-American anti-racists have Louis Theroux to thank for alerting us to every all-American white supremacist's favourite singing cuties, Lynx and Lamb Gaede, aka Prussian Blue. Since appearing in Louis's 2003 documentary series The Call of the Weird, the duo have grown out of being 10-year-old blue-eyed moppets trilling ditties that urge disaffected skinhead goons to wage race war on anyone whose complexion happens to be a darker than theirs.

Nowadays, as another British documentarist, James Quinn, established in Nazi Pop Twins, Lynx and Lamb are closer to being regular 14-year-olds. In other words, they're more prone to questioning things while at the same time being rather more sceptical about the answers those questions provoke.

Most pertinently, the pair would prefer not to become permanent prisoners of their Prussian Blue past. "A lot of people think we're psychos," Lynx and Lamb confided to Quinn at one point, but only when they were sure manager/mum April Gaede was out of earshot. "We have other goals and dreams. There are some songs we disagree with. We wanna take a break and cool down a little."

In addition, Lynx and Lamb's new music principally addresses adolescent matters of emotional uncertainty rather than promoting a hideous pro-Hitlerian political ideology.

Tragically, however, April Gaede remains just as warped. And dagnabbit, she has a basement full of Prussian Blue tat to flog (get your Prussian Blue T-shirts featuring the SS's groovy lightning bolt motif while stocks last!).

According to Quinn, April allowed him access to the Gaede family because she thought he'd create a wholesome, cheery advertorial for the white nationalist cause. What Quinn actually recorded was a divided family wherein unhappiness is never far from the surface. Unhappiest figure of all is Aryan April, an embittered and self-deluding woman who perceives herself stalked by racial conspiracy at every turn.

Nazi Pop Twins offered one especially stomach-turning example of how far April goes to combat this alleged threat. Would you actively encourage your teenage daughters to become phone pen-pals with a 69-year-old race supremacist serving a 190-year sentence for multiple charges pertaining to the murder of one of his critics?

April did, smilingly joining her daughters in a cosy fireside telephonic chat with imprisoned white nationalist David Lane, somehow ignoring his creepy reference to Lynx and Lamb as his "fantasy sweethearts".

Second most unhappy Gaede family member is the twins' grandmother Dianne, April's mother. This is because poor Dianne has spent a large part of her life married to April's chief brainwasher, her jovial neo-Nazi dad, Bill. "We've lived here 30 years," Dianne idly remarked on the family's California farm as, somewhere in the background, Bill went about branding his cattle with swastikas, "and I don't have a single friend because he's so hateful."

Dianne went on to state her intention to leave Bill and take the twins away from her daughter when they finish high school. Soon afterwards, April angrily abandoned Quinn and his cameras, relocating Lynx and Lamb to the "98% white" town of Kalispell in snow-bound Montana. Local residents greeted them with anti-Nazi protests.

As Nazi Pop Twins unravelled towards a messy, inconclusive end, James Quinn caught up with April, Lynx and Lamb and sought to give his documentary a climax by persuading the girls to confess that they don't share mater's belief in the principles of white nationalism.

To their credit, they didn't, quite, demonstrating touching loyalty to and love for their frightful mother. The Nazi pop twins are remarkably decent kids who show signs of saving themselves from a long-term life of hate. Unlike their irredeemable Nazi pop-monger mother.