I don't understand the passion for fashion. I realise there is peer pressure as well as incitements from shops and the media, but why are some people so fixated on the latest trends in clothing? It's as much a mystery as why fashion models look so grumpy. Perhaps a couple of new BBC programmes could explain what is so special about fashion.

Twiggy's Frock Exchange (BBC2) started by saying that the average British woman spends £13,000 in her lifetime on clothes that she will never wear. What is the answer to such conspicuous consumption? Enter Twiggy, a fashion model who has "seen trends come, go, and come back again". She assembles 100 women who each give five items of clothing they don't want in exchange for pieces they want. While they swap clothes, 'experts' tell us what women should be wearing (for example: "This season it's all about the embellished party frock"). The whole thing was like one of those inexplicable (to me) parties where women try on one another's clothes.

British Style Genius (BBC2) praised Britain as the source of wonderful fashion designers — like Mary Quant, whose designs were inspired by children's clothes, which may explain why many of her outfits look frankly ridiculous today. The programme was largely an extended commercial for Topshop, which has marketed a new range of clothes from Kate Moss. Not that Kate is a designer or even a seamstress: she just has some ideas which other people turn into clothes that women are apparently desperate to buy. Marks & Spencer got plenty of plugs as well, with their designer George Davies assuring us that he knows what women want (despite news of recent falls in M & S sales). I left the programme still puzzled at people's adherence to designer labels and the quick turnover in fashion, especially now that most of us are getting poorer. 'Retail guru' Mary Portas noted that fashions now change fortnightly. Fast fashion is as unnourishing as fast food.

Something currently fashionable in television is the sketch show in which the same situation is repeated week after week with a few minor changes. This is the format for Harry and Paul (BBC1), the new series from Harry Enfield and Paul Whitehouse. Every week the bulk of the show consists of the same characters in roughly the same situations: the two builders discussing culture but then shouting ruderies at women passers-by; the ageing disc jockeys; the annoying American couple; the shopkeeper selling rubbish and insulting the customers. Once you've seen one episode, you've seen most of them.

Little Britain USA (BBC1) transported David Walliams and Matt Lucas to the States but the programme hardly differed from the British version. The familiar characters reappeared, doing what they always did. Andy is still jumping out of his wheelchair while his friend Lou's attention is distracted; there is still an unhelpful woman who tells every customer "Computer says no!"; and there are still the same childish bodily-function jokes. The funniest part of the show was when the wrong subtitles came on during the final scene.

There's nothing much to laugh at in Sunshine (BBC1), despite its title and its label of 'comedy drama'. It is actually a three-part series about gritty northerners (in Manchester — where else?), focusing on a compulsive gambler played by Steve Coogan. Sure, he has a problem — which is that he's not as lovable as he or the scriptwriters think. Coogan has played so many unsympathetic roles that it's hard to accept him as endearing.

The press release says the programme is "suffused with warmth and laughter" although Coogan's character plays cards while his wife is in labour, and gambles away his family's holiday money. When his wife announces she is pregnant, he triumphantly shouts: "I'm not firing blanks!" Every plot twist is signalled well in advance. As Coogan's father, Bernard Hill has some dizzy spells, so I bet he'll die in episode two or three.

This betting lark is infectious!