Who gets the dog? ITV1, 9pm
Heartbeat ITV1, 8pm

THERE was much to admire in Who Gets the Dog? - not least the one-off drama's titular four-legged friend, Bounder, a classic shaggy mutt with soulful eyes. Sigh. If only I could find such a canine corker - mild-mannered and guaranteed not to chase Belcher Towers' pre-existing cat - I'd be a happy chappy. But I digress.

Genuine TV happiness stemmed from seeing the three well-kent stars of Who Gets the Dog? do more than they're usually asked to do. Playing a self-centred divorce lawyer, Green Wing's Stephen Mangan was credibly legal-eagle-esque - ie arrogant and venal - rather than wheeling out his standard zanily laddish act.

As pained hubby Jack, Kevin Whately proffered a nice line in being caring and put-upon but ultimately righteous and bold in the defence of his loved ones (as opposed to looking constipated in Lewis).

Meanwhile, Alison Steadman was neither blowsy nor shallow, roles she sadly all too often finds herself stuck with. As heartbroken wife Jenny, she oscillated convincingly between utter despair and bleak vengefulness.

Unfortunately, Ms Steadman was required to do this so often - and did it so well - that it quite upset the balance of what was meant to be a marital tragi-comedy. Jolly Laughs 0, Bitter Tears 5.

It wasn't her fault. When it came to deciding what tone it was meant to adopt, Who Gets the Dog? was rather a dog's breakfast. On the one hand, the action pitted Whately against Steadman in believably vicious husband-and-wife screaming matches as Jack and Jenny's 27-year-long marriage ripped itself apart on the sharp, unforgiving rocks of adulterous mutual infidelity.

On the other hand, we were also favoured with jaunty bursts of old-school sitcom incidental music as Whately twice firmly put his foot down - only to get it ever-so-hilariously stuck between the wooden slats of a handily misplaced stool.

On the plus side, Jack and Jenny's eventual reunion meant that various nasty, selfish lawyers (including the aforementioned S Mangan) wound up expensively out-smarted.

On the minus side, they were hoodwinked by a self-obsessed character - Jack and Jenny's student daughter - who'd unsympathetically stormed in and out of the action, snarling at everyone and changing her hair colour every five minutes. Her transformation into a sweet avenging angel simply didn't wash - just like the ridiculous closing scene in which Jack rolled around his living-room floor with his foot caught in - oh yes, missus! - the slats of yon stool.

In roughly similar fashion, Heartbeat was unbelievably bonkers from start to finish, throwing off its usual turgid air. If you ask me, ol' Beelzebub his bad self was a-stalkin' round sleepy Aidensfield, raisin' an unholy ruckus, sho' nuff.

Shee-hoot, it was obvious from the way Heartbeat kicked off to a plangent blast of Crossroads by Cream. Man, everyone do know that song be 'bout blues legend Robert Johnson sellin' his soul to the devil at them crossroads down in Rosedale, Mississipp'.

Don't believe me? Ponder what happened when Sgt Miller took his Rover P6 to Heartbeat's crossroads - or, more accurately, the roadworks at Ashfordleigh. His car done got scraped by a B-reg VW camper full of reckless Aussie fiends - sheep-shearers!

Cocking a snook at religion, the same infernal fellers finally exited Aidensfield along with its ton-up motor-bikin' vicar's popsy, Rosie, leaving the Rev to find solace in black leather garb and revving his BSA Bantam. Mercy!

On top of that, Peggy Armstrong's new washing machine jiggled wildly - as if possessed - round her kitchen to Sonny Boy Williamson's You Gotta Help Me. Heartbeat: more thrilling now it's possessed by demonic rhythm 'n' blues.