Last night's TV

Cars do funny things to people. For example, at the moment I'm not in a car, and I believe I'm behaving in a reasonably sane and rational manner. Courteous, too, and respectful of you, dear reader. But now, just as a little experiment, I'm walking outside with my laptop, unlocking the door to my girlfriend's Volkswagen Polo, stepping into the driver's seat, closing the door ...

Oi! You! (Burp.) Yes, you! Out of my way when I'm trying to write.

(Fart) Read faster, you muppets. I bet some of you are women, I can tell.

And old. (Spit.) I knew it! Old women, combination from hell, it shouldn't be allowed. Get out of the pages of this newspaper, go home where you belong, and die. (Repeated gesturing - two-fingered, one-fingered, and a loose fist shaken rapidly to represent male self-pleasuring.)

See? (I'm out of the car now.) That's what I'm talking about. Just stepping into one of these boxes of evil can turn anyone into Matthew the HGV driver, one of the stars of Cutting Edge: Gridlock and Road Rage (Channel 4). I use the word "star" loosely, because Matthew is, to borrow his own expression, a fucking knobhead, in or out of a car. He's horrible, a racist, misogynist, nightmarish bully.

Some of the people in this worrying film seem reasonable enough outside their cars. As soon as they get in, though, something changes. They're angry that the road they're on isn't like the nice empty winding one in the car adverts; instead, it's bumper-to-bumper with bad feeling. Lots and lots of people, all preventing each other from getting anywhere.

Tony, one of the Jekyll and Hyde characters, spends six hours a day commuting. Six hours! Then, when he gets home, he's so wound up he needs another hour to get over it. That's his day, and his life. What did you do in your life, Tony? Oh, you know: sat in a car, got really angry, tried to calm down, died.

There's something wrong, isn't there? I think part of the problem is that people - and that means you, Tony - accept the way things are, and will spend their lives in their cars. Tony sells mortgages. Why does he have to drive somewhere to do that? But people think that driving a car is some kind of right, mistaking it for liberty when it's plainly the opposite.

There's no sign of a change in attitudes, though. The most depressing fact in this depressing film is that every day there are 800 more cars on our roads. That and Matthew the knobhead, who's a walking, talking depressing fact. Well, not walking, obviously. And not talking very well either. But certainly depressing.

In Painted Babies Growing Up (BBC4), Asia is trying to win herself a car - or a vee-hickle, as she's from the southern states of America. She's doing this by entering a beauty pageant, something she's been doing since 12 years ago, when Jane Treays made her original Painted Babies documentary about Asia and another little girl called Brooke. This is the follow-up. The news on Brooke is less tragic - she's now studying hard and out of the whole pageant thing. Asia's still at it, though.

I love the way they speak. "D'yawl have a peeyern?" says Asia's gran, asking if anyone has a pin. But that's about the only beauty around here.

It is, like the original, a fascinating but jaw-droppingly appalling slice of freaky America. Creepiest of all is the pageant compere, a balding man named Tim, who wanders among the contestants serenading them. Asia may be 17 now, but some of them are as young as three. They're caked in makeup, they're dressed inappropriately, they behave inappropriately, wiggling coquettishly at Tim, blowing kisses, grins bolted on to their little Barbie faces. Eurggh, it's making me shudder just thinking about it. Excellent film, but deeply disturbing. Isn't there anything less depressing around?

Ah, here we go: My Favourite Place (History Channel). No gridlock, no rage, no swearing, no makeup, no wiggling, no Matthew, no Asia. Just Peter Snow bounding round Dover Castle like a puppy straining at the leash. There are no swingometers or mind-boggling graphics for him to get excited about. Instead, we have massive walls, secret tunnels, plots, tales of bravery and French pummelling, and of big men with big swords cutting big chunks out of each other. But Peter Snow brings the same bounciness and enthusiasm to Dover Castle as he does to election nights. Lovely.

&183; What did you think? Have your say at blogs.guardian.co.uk/tv