Let's not do the time warp

Speaking as someone who regards tiddlywinks as a dangerous contact sport, I feel little urge to participate in athletic pursuits.

Admittedly, it was once suggested to me by Ann Widdecombe (the pro-hanging Jeanette Krankie lookalike) that I might do very well in field sports (she doubtless had "javelin catcher" in mind), but I've never really seen the point of exercise, not only because it makes the ice jump right out of my glass, but also because of my detestation of communal games.

Not for me the homoerotic overtones that accompany them, nor the manly scrummages on the field followed by the communal naked showers in the dressing room. And as for something called "spit roasting" (which apparently takes place in hotel rooms afterwards and sounds about as much fun as a bit of heavy petting from Captain Hook), if that is what's required to stay as fit as a fiddle, then I prefer to remain shaped like a double bass.

I've long suspected that David Beckham's popularity among certain men stems not merely from his sporting prowess, but also because he appeals to their latently gay side (which they probably don't even realise they possess). They'd secretly like to see him half-naked, sweating, oiled up, and wrestling another man, and it was presumably to satisfy their tastes that BBC3 commissioned last night's ludicrous Beckham Back in Time.

This hypothetical, high-fantastical (or more appropriately high-pathetical) programme began by posing the utterly pointless question, "What would David Beckham have been if he'd been born at a different point in history?", to which the only sensible answer is surely "dead".

And given the cretinism of this basic premise (probably the worst format idea since my own suggested sitcom for Michael Barrymore, Only Pools and Corpses), I was soon wondering what the production team would have been if they'd been born in an era before low-quality multichannel television arrived on our screens, and that answer was equally obvious. Unemployed.

Given that this was the televisual equivalent of a Christmas book that expects to sell copies on its title alone (how about: Kittens of the Rich and Famous: The Britney Spears Naked Golfing Nazi Cookbook?), it seemed appropriate that it was fronted by Nick Knowles, not so much a presenter as human flypaper for defective formats.

"We're going in search of Beckham's past life," he declared, as the footballing fashion icon and his celebrity wife were whisked back in time to some randomly chosen dates in previous centuries, through the underwhelming magic of low-budget costume drama and unconvincing Posh and Becks body doubles.

"1854, Victorian Britain, that means stovepipe hats, men with massive sideburns ... morals are big news but sanitation isn't," Knowles told us (displaying a grasp of historical summary that suggests Simon Schama can sleep easy at night), before announcing that a mid-19th century Beckham would probably have earned or bought himself a commission in the Army.

But as look-vaguely-alike Paul Mansley posed for us in his expensive cavalry outfit, it transpired that Beckham would have made an extremely bad career choice, because he'd soon be sent out to the Crimea, to join the Light Brigade. So, although the uniform looked very nice, the charges would be ruinous.