You only get one chance to make a good first impression. It is one of those throwaway lines that litter our lives, particularly in business.

But there is certainly some truth in the cliche.

And it seems to be increasingly the case in the world of television.

TV is still a dominant force in society, but there is little doubt that its position is coming under threat from other sources of entertainment.

As more people choose to go online for their viewing, listening and reading pleasure, the pressure on TV to get it right first time is arguably greater than ever.

The viewing public is being spread around thinner and thinner these days and in order to attract and more importantly retain their attention programme-makers need to get it right and do it quickly. 

I’ve got sympathy with Graham Linehan’s views on those who criticise the first episodes of new series. He recalls how two of his biggest successes, Father Ted and The IT Crowd, got panned by a few critics during their first few episodes.

Both those series developed into big hits and he suggests new series deserve a more considered appraisal than they get from those who “dash off your sixty words about something that took someone a year to develop”.

It is a fair point, but (there’s always a but) is there any room left for slow burners these days?

So I decided to give both Bonekickers and Lab Rats a second chance after less than auspicious debut episodes.

Now Bonekickers is a case apart and considering the budget for this BBC flagship there is absolutely no excuses for such a hideous waste of money, time and talent.

But Lab Rats is a good case in point.

Having watched the trailers, ahead of the start of the series last week, I was optimistic. But after the first episode had aired I felt some of the best lines had been trailed to death in the days before broadcast and the rest of the show failed to live up to the promise the promos had suggested.

But because the trailers had been on so often, even those scenes weren’t as funny 4th, 5th or 6th time around.

There were some genuinely funny moments, most of them coming from diminutive Brummie Cara (Jo Enright), there were also some splendidly daft moments - the light bulb kept in the tin on the desk, for example.

And yet the overall impression was that Chris Addison (the star and co-writer) and the rest were trying too hard to inject the required silliness into the piece.

It wasn’t the greatest first impression, but I tuned in again last night (and slept on it before writing) and I’m still in the same place as last week. Aside from the odd flash of inspiration, it feels too forced to be funny.

Lab Rats is scheduled for a six-part run and we’re already two epsiodes down. I’m not sure how long viewers can wait before it starts getting it right.

Indeed, BBC2’s questionable boast that “Thursdays are funny” is continuing to look very shaky given the fact that Mock The Week is looking every inch the tired old formula and Still Game just doesn’t push any of my buttons.

If such programmes do take so long to develop, shouldn’t we expect something a lot more when they do finally get broadcast?

And these days, with most of us able to access the sort of entertainment we crave just about anytime, anyplace and anywhere, our expectation of instant gratification doesn’t fit too well with the concept of the slow burner.

I’m not saying that is right. I would dearly love the world to slow down a bit.

But there are harsh lessons to be learned by so-called old or big media about how we, as consumers, are changing and how they need to start keeping up with us.

These lessons are being absorbed the hard way by newspapers.

Those involved in TV need to start understanding they are directly impacting on them too.

It is shameless plug time again.

The wife has created a book from the 366-day self-portrait photography project she completed in May.

It was never Rachel’s original intention, but the project chronicles her struggle to cope with her illness and all its implications over the course of the year.

I’m obviously completely and utterly biased when I say it is an amazing project and an amazing book, but to add a note of impartiality one of the Beeb’s Ouch! bloggers thinks it is worthy of a mention too.

Although the esteemed Le Craic is taking a blogging break, he’s still coming up with a few gems via Twitter. So thanks to him for pointing me in the direction of a company who can turn you into an action doll figure.

I wonder if they could do an all-action Penfold-type figure of me?

EyeCube picks up on a debate latched onto by a fellow WMBN member Matt Hames about the pressure to blog and do so both well and consistently.

Rick’s views on the issue takes the discussion developed by Matt on the Share Marketing blog a few steps further.

And BiNS, courtesy of Paul Dale on The Birmingham Post, highlights Birmingham City Council’s list of websites employees are not allowed to access during work time and those they may surf during their lunch-break.

A sensible course of action for any employer these days.

Just for the record, the likes of cannibalism, magic powers and atheistic views are big no-no’s when its comes to internet searches, but sites that might include “jokes of an adult nature” can be viewed between 12pm and 2pm.

My second, more considered opinion about Bonekickers is pretty much the same as my first - this is the worst programme currently on TV - albeit with a few tweaks.

Everything that was bad about the debut episode was evident again - over-acting, slack direction, but above all some absolutely appalling writing and a laughably contrived plot.

The tweaks to my initial opinion come in the BBC’s assertion that this is a cross between Time Team, the Indiana Jones films and the Da Vinci Code.

I was willing to give them a bit of leeway first time around, but not any more.

Bonekickers is none of these, rather it draws its inspiration from elsewhere.

So the plot and dialogue is straight out of Scooby-Doo, only not nearly as sharply observed and with a set of characters that aren’t anywhere as believable as the cartoon.

The suspense and thrills are clearly a homage to Murder, She Wrote, but lacks the gritty realism and out and out edge of your seat quality of the popular Angela Lansbury vehicle.

And the convoluted trail of clues is undoubtedly inspired by 3-2-1, only the much-loved gameshow’s contrived riddles were far easier to follow than Bonekickers.

The reason Bonekickers fails so badly is that it isn’t even a pale shadow of the stuff it is inspired by.

I think the BBC has invested far too much of our money in Bonekickers to pull the series before it finishes its six-part run.

However, there is no doubt that it is responsible for wasting a great deal - from licence payers’ money to viewers loyalty - on such a woeful drama series.

My biggest concern is that Bonekickers is so bad it becomes some sort of future cult hit.

It doesn’t even deserve that particular honour.

The New Yorker has kicked up a storm with the cover for its July 21 issue.

Cartoonist Barry Blitt has depicted Barack Obama in traditional Muslim dress and his wife Michelle as a terrorist in what the magazine says is a satirical swipe at the increasingly hysterical right-wing reaction to the Democrats’ presidential candidate.

Obama’s team doesn’t share the joke, however, and have described the cartoon as “tasteless and offensive”.

At first glance they might well have a point.

But in the context of that particular issue of The New Yorker, called “The Politics of Fear”, then the cartoon works perfectly.

Also, if you view the slideshow of Blitt’s political cartoons, then the Obama image fits in with the satirical edge the magazine was hoping to achieve.

The magazine’s statement, defending itself against the Obama’s team’s criticism, sums it up as: “The burning flag, the nationalist-radical and Islamic outfits, the fist-bump, the portrait on the wall? All of them echo one attack or another.

“Satire is part of what we do, and it is meant to bring things out into the open, to hold up a mirror to prejudice, the hateful, and the absurd.

“And that’s the spirit of this cover.”

And having looked at the cover again in context and in relation to the articles inside the magazine, that is what the cartoon manages to pull off.

So have the Obama team missed a trick by criticising the cover cartoon out of hand?

Would they have been better advised to acknowledge the strength of the imagery and link it to the articles inside the magazine highlighting the right-wing’s distorted attacks on the presidential candidate?

Rather than making the debate about the numerous unfounded allegations that are being made about Obama, isn’t the focus now deflected to the magazine and a discussion on taste and possibly even censorship.

In many ways, the Obama’s team reaction could eventually become yet another contentious issue trotted out by their man’s fiercest critics in an attempt to further muddy the waters and create an atmosphere of negativity around the Democratic candidate.

And the fact that a spokesman for the Republican candidate, John McCain, has also criticised the cover is irrelevant. It ranks in the “well, he would say that, wouldn’t he?” category and I’m sure if Obama’s team had praised the magazine’s cover as a bold satire then his opponent would have followed suit.

Chances are that this will become yet another minor storm in a long-drawn out election race - one of many that are all but forgotten almost as quickly as they flared up.

But it could also rank as a missed opportunity by the Obama team. Only time will tell.

Flyman finally discovers why his water bowl is always empty.

The Mail on Sunday did a good cut and paste job, rehashing old interviews and articles, in exposing the “truth about Banksy”.

But, whether the article’s revelation about the reclusive artist is true or not, it doesn’t matter in the slightest. Does it?

He/she/they have done a pretty good job of letting the art speak for itself so far, so I don’t see any good reason for needing to know who is behind the work.

As ever regarding such a sensationalised non-story, I’ve found the response that it has generated so far is far more interesting.

The BBC’s online coverage takes a typically po-faced approach, apart from pointing out that the so-called “real Banksy’s” mother denied even having a son.

The Guardian asks and attempts to answer the “so what?” question - and draws some mixed results in the comments section. I found Graphiquillan’s conclusion that “Banksy is, quite simply, Banksy” far more to the point.

Indeed, the “who cares? question seems to feature strongly in the reaction of most. You’d possibly expect Bristol Graffiti’s blog to defend its famous son, but they rightly point out that there are plenty of people who know the truth but who just don’t see the point in telling.

So, is it safe to suggest that the MoS non-story officially marks the start of the 2008 silly season?

If so, then we can expect plenty more over the course of the summer.

Archaeology seems to have entered my field of vision over the last week.

But it has been a case of moving from the ridiculous to the sublime.

After enduring the BBC’s new prime-time drama series last Tuesday, I then stumbled upon something from the land of my fathers that put a smile on my face.

I spent some of my childhood growing up in Caerleon, the small town (it isn’t a village!) close to Newport.

It has some spectacular Roman ruins and not surprisingly my junior school took full advantage with regular trips to the main site and the museum.

There is currently another major archaeology excavation going on in Caerleon and they’ve got a dig blog.

Its nicely written, with some interesting insights into the painstaking processes the excavation team go through and explanations of some important finds.

Good stuff and I bet none of the Caerleon team have stood over the site and said: “Give up your secrets.”

Some interesting Sunday reading around today.

Various things have caught my eye whilst having a trawl.

The story behind the biggest attempted bank fraud in British history sounds a bit like the plot for a thriller and the fact that the young bank clerk jailed for the crime won’t divulge his accomplices adds a twist that means the case is far from closed.

Was the clerk a “sleeper”, or targeted by an organised crime syndicate free to try and pull off another big hit?

Fuel theft is on the rise as prices at the pump continue to rise. Coming to a driveway outside your house soon?

The Sunday Mercury has become the latest TrinityMirror newspaper in the Midlands to relaunch its website and has recruited a small army of bloggers.

One of them is Birmingham’s home-grown culinary star, Glynn Purnell, a chef with a passion for the city, an interest in experimenting with our taste buds and a refreshing tendency to speak his mind.

In only his second blog post he sticks the knife into the city’s flagship Taste of Birmingham event with some fairly withering, but very readable criticism.

How long before he gets labelled the enfant terrible of Birmingham’s culinary scene - apart from me asking the question, obviously.

Is rugby union heading down the grubby route ploughed by football as money becomes increasingly important in the game and the media profile of some of the leading players starts to rise?

And an Italian man forced to retake his driving test because he was gay - or, as official records described it, suffering from “sexual identity disturbance” - has been awarded almost £80,000 in compensation from the Government.

Words is my life.

Its official, I’ve even got the t-shirt to prove it thanks to Rachel.

I love reading them, I enjoy writing them even more.

Blogs are brilliant as I get exposed to so many words, ideas, styles, prejudices and plenty of inspiration whenever I want it. Best of all, these words are pinging at me from far and wide, I don’t have to do too much time-consuming searching and I’m not just confined to what’s happening close to my own doorstep.

I write every day - either here, other blogs, as a freelance journalist or in a consultancy role for various clients.

And yet I often feel frustrated at my failure to write for “fun”. Why?

I’m enjoying all this other stuff. The difference is that the “fun” refers to the other stuff that continues to reside in my head and which doesn’t get typed onto the screen of my laptop.

Two years ago, when I went self-employed, I spent a few days sat in the garden with my wife and cat alongside me and actually got a fair few thousand of these words transferred from my head onto the screen.

And two years on, they’re still sat there in the folder I created for them not doing anything. I’ve returned to the folder, often, and at the end of last year when we headed over to North Norfolk for a week of relaxation I even managed to add a few more words and finesse the stuff I’d already written.

But over 6 months on from that week of revisiting the folder, it has reverted back to being the great untouched.

I’ve been wondering whether the reason for my failure to write for fun is knowing that these days I’m the sole bread winner.

Since Rachel was forced to give up work I’ve felt the need to justify everything I do, every word I write needs to have a monetary value attached to it otherwise I’m simply wasting my time - aren’t I?

But that can’t be right as the majority of blogging I do is purely personal and definitely unpaid. Besides, my failure has nothing to do with Rachel or her illness.

So what is holding me back?

Fear of failure, perhaps, or just a lack of self-confidence?

Whatever the reason, I included “writing for fun” on my 40 list purely as a kick up the arse to myself and it is about time I did something about it. I don’t want to force it, but I do need to get restarted and galvanised.

Rachel is (as always) inspiring me - despite her on-going health problems her talent is shining through and earning dosh (not quite enough for me to be a kept man, but every journey starts with a single step). At the rate she is going, she is also likely to have a book published way before I’ve finished drafting what’s in my head.

A friend - already a published author - recently suggested trying a bit of collaboration (I haven’t forgotten Nick) and maybe that will help inspire too.

I have to admit, watching TV over the last few months has also proved inspirational.

Not so much in a “I can do so much better than that” kind of way, but further confirmation that the difference between success and failure tends to come down to the writing.

In this digital age, the written word is still very powerful.

Witness the last stuttering series of Dr Who, where the writing standards seemed to slip badly.

Equally, it is clear to see that the second series of Heroes was completed during the writers’ strike in the USA as it completely lost its way and ended up a horrible mess.

This week we’ve seen two hideous examples from the BBC - I’ve already explained where I stand on Bonekickers, whilst the new comedy series Lab Rats lurched from a few sublime moments (the diminutive assistant from Erdington had all the best lines), to a general air of sixth-form revue and consisted of far too much out-and-out drivel.

My TV screen is full of wasted opportunities. Great ideas ruined by poor writing.

And yet for every Bonekickers there is a Criminal Justice. So there is inspiration of the more positive kind to be found.

But these days, most of my inspiration comes in the blogosphere and the fact so many talented writers (or even really bad writers with interesting opinions) have an outlet.

Words is my life.

Writing is fun.

So get on with it.

You have to hand it to Sepp Blatter, president of Fifa, he has almost cornered the market in ill-judged sporting soundbites.

The foot-in-mouth diseased football big-wig has waded into the preposterous saga surrounding Cristiano Ronaldo’s “will he, won’t he, who bloody cares?” transfer from Manchester United to Real Madrid.

Blatter’s unique take on the whole grubby business is that players should be free to play where they want and he goes on to compare current transfer trends to “modern slavery”.

Surely one of the guardians of the game should be more concerned with how a player like Ronaldo can sign a lucrative, long-term extension to his existing contract with one club and then seemingly go along with those acting behind-the-scenes who try to engineer an even bigger money-spinning switch to another club?

No doubt there will be large leaving and signing on bonuses included in any deal, not to mention the weekly pay cheques running into six figures.

So how exactly are modern footballers slaves to the beastly transfer system?

Sepp Blatter is as completely removed from reality as those multi-millionaire players, managers and agents soiling the so-called beautiful game.

Those in charge of Fifa’s PR must worry every time their president opens his mouth.

Of course, the stupid soundbite syndrome is not unique to the footballing fool.

Our own Prime Minister has likened himself to Heathcliff of Wuthering Heights fame - you know, that well-known violent, embittered figure who treats most others with cruelty and contempt.