Channel 4’s The Secret Millionaire is TV that can legitimately claim to change lives. Each programme follows a millionaire as they go ‘undercover’ for two weeks, to experience life on benefit in a deprived area. During their fortnight, the millionaire seeks out volunteer opportunities with local community projects, with a view to identifying worthy causes to which they can donate cash. Each programme concludes with the millionaire returning to selected projects to express thanks and admiration, and then to reveal their true identity and hand over a cheque, often for several thousand pounds.

This week marks the 40th anniversary of Dad’s Army. It is testimony to the enduring appeal of the show that BBC2 has given over its entire evening schedule this Saturday to Dad’s Army-related programming, and that BBC1 will broadcast a special celebration on Sunday evening. And it’s not just those who saw it first time round who are fans – my 9-year-old son has been beside himself with laughter whenever he’s caught one of the recent run of repeats.

There is little that we like better, it seems, than settling down to a cosy murder.

A quick body count suggests that this is how many of us unwind – this week alone we can tune into over forty-five hours of detective drama on terrestrial television. Six of the current top ten bestselling hardbacks, and four of the top ten paperbacks, are concerned with one form of crime or another.

But why our continued attraction to, and fascination with, the ever growing corpus of the corpse? After all, despite infinite variety in locations, characters, victims, and modes of dispatch, the essential plot remains the same each time. Regardless of whether it is Sherlock Holmes, Miss Marple, or Inspectors Morse or Barnaby on the case, and of whatever particular crime is committed, the culprit will eventually – and inevitably – be discovered.

The world of detective fiction is a curious blend of the horrific and the fantastic. It’s a world where violence can break out at any time, and where anyone, even the least expected (perhaps especially the least expected), may have premeditated murder. Interestingly, though, it’s also a world that displays a strange form of optimism; perhaps we could even characterise it as hope. As the acclaimed crime writer, P.D. James, once said, ‘what the detective story is about is not murder but the restoration of order’. The deep-seated hope that these narratives continue to articulate is that truth cannot be suppressed, that evil will be thwarted, and that things happen for a reason, a reason that, even if not always understood, can at least be explained.

I must be one of the few westerners who has never watched an episode of ER. However, I recently received an email with a YouTube link to an excerpt from the latest (14th!) season.

The clip introduces a cancer and guilt-riddled ex-prison doctor (Truman) being counselled by a gentle, sincere and compassionate chaplain (Julia). One of Truman’s roles as a prison doctor had been administering lethal injections to convicted murderers. He relates how one of them was later found to have been framed for his crime, and how he believes he ignored God’s attempt to prevent him from killing an innocent man.

I sacked Simon Smith. Yep, I gave this week’s hapless contestant on The Apprentice his marching orders. OK, the TV evidence is that it was the lovable epitome of all things shrewd and opportunist, Sir Alan Sugar, who fired him – but at least I was there to back up his decision. As part of the studio audience for The Apprentice: You’re Fired!, the follow-up show that interviews each week’s victim, I got to wave my red card at Simon when the mob was asked how we’d have handled him.

I wonder if, before switching on the nightlight and retiring downstairs, the parents of the young J J Abrams told him there were monsters not only under the bed but also under the floorboards and clutching the limbs of the trees outside his window. The creative force behind TV’s Alias and Lost, Mission Impossible 3 and the current box-office hit Cloverfield has an unnerving knack for making you feel that, just off camera, just out of sight, some colossal, terrible force is about to make its presence known and change the way you think about life forever.

I’m sure it’s a consolation to all of us to learn that if we want to clamber up skyscrapers like Spiderman, or express our road rage not with rude hand signals but with the heat-ray vision of Superman, help is at hand. No longer do we have to wait for wizards, radioactive spiders or freak gamma-bomb accidents to bestow on us such unique abilities. No, nature will take its course.