Key to its success has to be the easy charm of presenter John Gordillo, who’s ramshackle but relaxed presentational style is a refreshing change from the cynicism of (this programme’s most obvious antecedent) The 11 O’clock Show‘s Iain Lee. On the face of it, The RDA is an obvious, rather weary blend of boringTFI-style stunts, amusing Dennis Pennis-style showbiz reporters and C-list Jack Docherty type guests. Yet there is something subtly different about this programme that – for now – makes it a pleasant weekday, late night fixture.

Perhaps of most interest, is The RDA‘s fascination with its own existence as a television programme on a little watched digital channel. On a later show there is a reference to the fact that rehearsals have been continually interrupted by activity taking place in the adjoining studio. Not the stuff of most entertainment shows surely? However, The RDA actually elects to jettison an interview with guest Wincey Willis, in favour of sending her next door to find out what’s going on.

Tonight’s show begins by informing us that not only are we in for “28 minutes of inclusive airtime”, but that the programme is also running seven minutes late due to the culmination of the “Who shot Phil Mitchell?” episode of EastEnders. Gordillo, obviously not yet accustomed to the mores of television presenting, spends time thanking the audience for coming and fulsomely expresses his hope that we have “a great time”. With that we have the opening music, accompanied by a caption explaining that the programme has been recorded in “BBC TV Centre, Studio TC2″ and that this is “Episode IV”. The belief that we care about such details is intriguing and as such ensures that – in fact – we do. More strangeness follows with an unprompted and seemingly motiveless tribute to Trade Unionist Rodney Bickerstaff. After this, it looks as if we are heading for traditional light night fare as Gordillo presents round one of “Britain’s Gayest Man”. True to form this is pretty forgettable and only The RDA‘s willingness to disclose where they advertised for contestants being of note. This rather trivial disclosure, along with Gordillo’s admission that each of the “gay men” have their name surreptitiously written on their backs (to ensure he does not forget their names) ensure this item is not entirely forgettable.

The RDA is billed as providing a topical reaction to the day’s news, yet it is patently more concerned with its own existence then reflecting what’s going on in the outside world. The only real concession to its billed manifesto is the inclusion of a guest reviewer who is (in the fashion of these things) expected to cast a wry eye across the day’s headlines. Yet even here, the focus is not on the content but more on the method employed to deliver the message. In a few days time we are able to enjoy the thoughts of two teenage girls (who reflect with typical cynicism on the goings on in EastEnders), but tonight Gordillo’s car mechanic, Walter Cress proves an entertaining and charming amateur reporter. Assigned to cover both the Choice FM Black Music and Maxim Women of the Year awards, Cress proves himself no Dennis Pennis, but is treated with suspicion by his celebrity interviewees nonetheless. The best moments here are when Cress decides to tell a bemused Eubank a little of his life story, and when black music act Damage re-appear at the Maxim Music awards and greet Cress like a long lost friend. Cress genuinely mistakes one of the award’s waitresses as a potential nominee (such is his ignorance of popular culture) and has to ask others the names of passing celebrities. Such moments would seem to be pure RDA.

The RDA has failed to make any kind of impression in the popular media (with those few comments being mostly negative), but that’s the way the programme seems to like it. For now it works because it is “our little secret”. It will probably fizzle out in a couple of months never to return (daily topical comedy shows are notoriously hungry beasts), yet for now, it is worth your attention, even if it is just as a passing piece of flotsam which if ever chanced upon in future years will surely – due to its transience – evoke far stronger memories of spring of 2001 than either Hear’say or Foot and Mouth.

Two television genres collided on Friday night, with the welcome chance to revisit The Living Soap as part of BBC Choice’s theme week Manchester Revealed.

Theme nights and docu soaps seem to be the stuff of late ’90s TV, and The Living Soap (broadcast in 1993) represented the BBC’s first toe-dip into such murky, soapy waters. The premise was simple: inspired by the success of MTV’s Real World, BBC2 introduced us to a group of Mancunian students plucked from obscurity to share their life experiences with us.

In retrospect, very little happened when these studes stopped being polite, and started getting real, and reacquainting oneself with Dan and Spider and co. proved to be a slightly disappointing experience. The two episodes shown contained all the staple diets of the genre: the incessant attempts by the subjects not to look crap in front of the cameras, bickering and confessional, yet defensive tracts about their lifestyle. Yet the squabbling which once pleasingly set the teeth on edge, appeared tepid and tedious half a decade on. In fact only Simon’s gingerly made and hastily retracted description of Spider as “ugly” elicited any pleasure in this viewer, even if it was mainly derived from watching Dan’s vicarious squirming discomfiture.

It was as a museum piece that The Living Soap held its fascination. The programme has an underlying preoccupation about how much the presence of television cameras is distorting the subject matter. Dan was quoted as saying that filmed trips to the supermarket took on logistical complications which entirely negated the “ordinariness” of the experience. Simon would often re-instigate arguments with other members of the house (usually Spider) in order for their stupidity to be caught on camera. If he felt that he was looking like a tit, Matt would begin to swear excessively and jump around or hold commercially-branded goods up to the camera, ensuring the footage became unusable. Today, we’re not concerned with the “reality” of our docu soaps. Contrivances usually make for good telly, and at the end of the day we don’t actually watch this kind of stuff to gain an accurate insight into various strata of our society. We want good soap opera, and reality can take a flying-one if it gets in the way. That debate has run its course and no one cares anymore.

Yet there was still much to enjoy. Young adults perpetually justifying their existence is always fun to watch. Simon and Spider’s arguments represented great battles of will as each attempted to represent the other to the TV viewer as a wanker, whilst trying to ensure that they themselves were not attributed that epithet.

These two episodes were from the glory days of The Living Soap (ie. before that arse Colin joined), and the format and participants still seemed fresh and up for it. It didn’t take long for the whole thing to unravel: the subjects got pissed off with the incessant TV presence, the programme makers ran out of ideas, and the TV viewers got bored with the whole thing. Finally, the BBC showed a couple of Brian Cant narrated specials to wrap everything up and that was it. No one cried.

This is the sort of thing satellite channels should be doing: re-showing all those kinds of programmes that never get terrestrial repeats. What about: Video Diaries, United Kingdom!,Cutting Edge? Rather these then perpetual EastEnders. I couldn’t give a toss what Mary the Punk is up to now, yet I’d like to know if Spider has grown up enough to cringe at her teenage principality, or if Matt is still stacking shelves in the local supermarket (I bet he is).