MORE Dust to Dust, was my take on the first series of Ashes to Ashes, the highly anticipated follow-up to the ridiculously enjoyable Life on Mars.

Apart from having a great soundtrack, it really was pants, albeit shiny, turquoise Lycra ones.

Where Life on Mars was unique, full of creative ideas and, oh how quaint, an original and bravely convoluted storyline, Ashes to Ashes was merely a poor copy, riding cockily on the giant lapels of its powerful predecessor and a perfect example of style over substance.

There was a constant, underlying sense of the-powers-that-be desperately trying to emulate past glories, but without most of the original cast and minus the sort of intelligent writing needed, it never even come close.

Oh we still had the blisteringly offensive but bizarrely vulnerable Gene Hunt (Philip Glenister), but where originally Hunt had the troubled, intense sidekick-cum-fall-guy Sam Tyler, played beautifully by a charismatic John Simm, to spar with, he now had Keeley Hawes.

Enter DI Alex Drake, a policewoman mystifyingly trapped in 1980-something and trying to return from the brink of death after being shot in the present day. I think.

Keeley who?

You know, been in Tomb Raider, Vicar of Dibley, Pie in the Sky, stuff like that.

In fairness, Ms Hawes had a massive act to follow in Simm with his easy manner, great lines and cool leather jackets.

Worse, the poor mare had to do it with permed hair, while wearing red plastic hoop earrings, giant shoulder pads and a batwing cowl neck jumper (acrylic, of course).

So, being taken seriously was never going to be easy.

And then came the script: an unconvincing time-flipping plot (been there and back, done that), laboured banter between herself and the guv, standard cop show formatting and an ’80s theme that wasn’t half as much fun, or as brown-and-beige grimly deprived, to recreate as the previous ’70s one.

In Life on Mars, not only did you get Gene and Sam, an overnight classic telly pairing, but you also had the immensely likeable WPC Annie Cartwright (Liz White), playing a will-they-won’t-they love interest for Sam and playing her male chauvinist colleagues at their own game and subtly winning much of the time. Her disappearance from the new show left almost as large a gap as Simm’s.

But we’re now on the second series, and just like her character, DI Drake or Bolly Knickers as Hunt likes to call her, Hawes has struggled bravely on against her knockers and come out fighting so, while it can’t hope to match the original it spun from, it seems to be taking on a life of its own and is miles better than the first series.

Perhaps it’s because we’ve just become used to DI Drake’s blue eye-shadow/ski-pant/ stiletto combo, or maybe she’s got more comfy in the role, or that the writing seems to suddenly have got a lot sharper, grittier even.

Whatever the reason, what was just another average cop show dressed up as Duran Duran on acid, has suddenly earned its stripes and I’m happy to admit is fun to watch.

Typical that, when it’s just about to come to an end.

Let’s just hope they don’t get carried away again, though, and that they never, ever consider, oh I don’t know, Black Tie White Noise, another sequel where they plunder the murky depths of the ’90s with the Gene Genie now banned from referring to all criminals as bastards and all women as birds and attached to a time-warping, bleached blond sidekick in faded baggy jeans, fake designer T-shirt and fringed leather jacket played by somebody like, oh, let’s think, Jason Donovan.

Come to think of it – that could be quite a show!

Not putting on enough of a show, though, was poor old Howard, long-lost twin of Gary Numan and Sirrrrralan’s latest fire-ee on The Apprentice (Wednesday, BBC1, 9pm). So, still in the Penthouse and still in the running we have James and four girls – “I’m Hugh Hefner!” he cried looking at Kate, Debra, Yasmina and Lorraine, his not-so-fluffy bunnies.

Katie looks good, but her air guitar moment will be her highlight, which sort of sums it up. Still, at least she can join her sisters in All Saints when she gets the Suga push.

Debra is secretly a droid and the boss already has enough technology to shift, so she could get canned.

James, I like. He’s the only personable one among them and although he may not come across as a firebrand leader, people like him because he seems genuine and has a sense of humour, a thing so sadly lacking in the rest of them. And in business.

Lorraine I also like, the great name aside (I often wonder if she gets called the same nicknames as I do: Lol, Lozza, Lorry – ergo Truck, Lainey, Raine and some too unsuitable to print in this fine organ), she is a bit bonkers, and therefore has character, another thing people like.

But she is, as she admits herself, a slow burner.

Oh, it’s all so deliciously unpredictable so roll on next week’s episode, the one where old crinkle-cut-chip face Sugar brings in his company henchmen to put the remaining candidates through a terrifying interviewing process that the Spanish Inquisition would be uncomfortable with.