Eccleston is the prince of darkness The more austere the times, the more frivolous the entertainment. That, at least, is the theory, and an example of it would be the dance hall craze that swept the nation in the early Fifties, when rationing was still in force. We should take heart, then, from Blackout (Monday, BBC One) which was the television equivalent of a Leonard Cohen album. If this dark thriller was a reliable economic indicator, the recession will soon be over. And the darkness was not only metaphorical, because it seemed to have been lit by candles, with a blue filter slipped over the lens for good measure, so that all the actors looked as if they had been dead for a few hours. Then there was the rain to consider: it shared top billing with Christopher Eccleston and appeared in nearly every scene, even, it seemed, those that were indoors. The rain has also had a starring role in this summer's sporting fixtures, and this is a good thing because it has meant more evening tennis matches from Wimbledon (BBC One). I find it hard to enjoy sport on television during the day, even at the weekend, because it comes with too much guilt. So I end up dipping in and out, which is as frustrating and meaningless as watching highlights. Just as a symphony cannot be appreciated without the dull movements, so tennis is not tennis without the boring passages where nothing seems to happen. Things are happening: in the attrition, in the focus of long rallies. You have to endure the nothing to appreciate the something. So thank you, rain. You enabled us to watch at least one of Murray's epic matches at night, as they should be watched, in their entirety, free from guilt. I came late to the feast that is Family Guy (Sunday, BBC Three) and wouldn't have turned up at all had it not been for my children. I would hear them laughing and pop my head around the door, see it was a cartoon and think: that's OK then. It was only when I overheard them quoting from it that alarm bells rang and I thought I ought to be a more responsible parent. I clicked on information and saw it came with a warning that it contains "adult humour." I sat down to watch it and was soon hooked. My wife takes a stronger line on these things than me, so my children and I have to take it in turns to be lookout, and when she is approaching we quickly swap channels. I suppose that makes me a bit like Peter Griffin, the eponymous family guy. He has no moral compass and few redeeming qualities apart from his blunt honesty about everything. Even his fatness seems to be a reflection of his utter lack of decency or shame. With a sophisticated talking dog called Brian and a cruelly intelligent baby called Stewie, Family Guy is a truly strange and addictive cartoon, like The Simpsons without brakes. The new series started with Peter, Joe, Quagmire and Cleveland joining a chain gang after a road trip to the Deep South went horribly wrong. In the car on the way there they played a game of dilemmas. "Would you rather be a hobo with a five per cent chance of gettin" inherited by a rich guy," Peter asked his friends, "or be Hitler with two years left before the end of the war? You know you're going to commit suicide, but you've still got two years left being Hitler. When Quagmire opted for being Hitler, trying to justify his choice against the counter arguments of the others, Joe asked him: "Why do you keep trying to make Hitler work?" The more I think about that line the funnier I find it.