Turbulent television

Apart from the three-quarters of US citizens who don't have passports and have never been anywhere, the rest of us are at the mercy of the aeroplane. The aeroplane is in many ways the defining fact of modern existence. Without it, we would not have had our minds broadened by trips to foreign countries. That is unless we were explorers or soldiers and simply had to get there however long it took by boat or mule.

In the same way that the aeroplane is the defining fact of modern existence, the defining fact of our relationship with the aeroplane is one of ill-disguised terror. I have long thought that the main reason that airport bars are so revolting is to deter people from drinking in them, otherwise airports would be peopled by reeling drunks. There are people who will tell you they are not afraid of flying. They are either liars, or soldiers or explorers.

I seem to have drifted from the point somewhat, so I will return to it. Where there is a human emotion which is giving off negative vibes, such as terror, then the human impulse is to laugh in the face of it. This is the thinking behind Pam Ann's Mile High Club, the latest instalment in the series called Comedy Lab (C4). Pam Ann is in one way the quintessential air hostess, a frightening agglomeration of rock-hard hair, lipstick, eye shadow, false eyelashes and teeth. In another way, she differs from the norm in that she is going to tell us the truth about the flight we are on, whether we like it or not.

The comedic action takes place in the club-class section of the aircraft, with the passengers acting as both audience and stooges. A running gag involves Pam's complete contempt for economy-class passengers, who can see and hear what is going on, but cannot partake in the fun. Their enjoyment is further impaired by the fear that they may all be developing deepvein thrombosis.

The audience in club class - and by extension ourselves, the privileged viewers - is invited to wallow in the delights of machine-gun toting terrorist gags, and amusing mock-ups showing aircraft exploding in mid-air or flying into mountains and exploding there instead.

These are precisely the things of which we are terrified, so seeing them in a comedy context is a way of defusing that fear, while at the same time unlocking - if one can defuse and unlock at the same time - our primitive urge to shake with merry laughter. That I did not quite achieve this state is probably my fault.

Pam Ann is more successful with less shocking tactics. We all know what the Mile High Club is, and it has nothing to do with those dangerous sports fanatics. Pam Ann is, not to put too fine a point on it, a raging nymphomaniac. She might be a little overweight, but her refusal to deny herself the pleasure of a figure-hugging uniform on account of this, makes her all the more alluring.

She has a willing accomplice in what is accurately known as the cockpit, where Captain Rimming - no, of course I'm not making this up - maintains a persistent craving for martinis and oral sex. We've all wondered what goes on "up front", and I for one have long suspected that something like this scenario was being enacted, at the expense of the well-being, not to mention safety, of the passengers.

The very big plus point of watching the programme was that, by the end, I had completely overcome my fear of flying. It has to be borne in mind that I was stretched out on a sofa at the time, but I feel fairly confident that the next time I set foot on an aeroplane, I will be laughing at the very idea of terrorists and mid-air fireballs, and speculating madly about what happens in those bits of the plane that we never get to see.

If Pam Ann's Mile High Club had no other merit, then it can be counted as one of the great public service announcements.