The new drama series Frankie (BBC One, Tuesday, 9pm) is all about a district nurse named Frankie Maddox and, to prove what a busy, modern woman she is, the opening credits are full of clips of her doing busy, modern woman things such as answering the phone, dancing, eating and walking (walking!).

There is also a glimpse of her smiling enigmatically yet ruefully in the way actors do in the opening credits of life-affirming, non-threatening drama series (the smile is known in the business as The Martin Clunes). To top it all off, at the end of the clips, Frankie's name pops up on screen and instead of a dot over the "i" in Frankie, there is a little kiss.

I hate this woman already.

Frankie is played by Eve Myles, and in the opening minutes we are left in no doubt about what a gem she is, what a honey, what an angel, who gets on with it while others round her – usually men! – go to pieces. If a patient is difficult, she just smiles and rolls her eyes.

Her first patient needs an injection. "Thigh, tummy or bum?" she asks, doing Kenneth Williams lips at the word "bum". "You've got a funny sort of job," says the patient. "Yes, well, I'm a funny type of woman," says Frankie.

Really, I hate this woman quite a lot now.

Frankie is then heading back to the office when her phone rings. It's Ian, her boyfriend, and the ring tone is the Alesha Dixon song, The Boy Does Nothing. Ain't that the truth, thinks Frankie. Men! She does an enigmatic yet rueful yet frustrated look and allows the phone to ring out. By the time she reaches the office, the dullest crisis in the history of television drama is unfolding. Something about staples. "You're not supposed to staple these things," says one of the other nurses, holding up some letters. Frankie just rolls her eyes again. Is she the only one around here who can get things done?

Later, Frankie gets pretty annoyed at a cynical middle-class GP who just doesn't understand the real world in the way that Frankie does. She also has a chance to complain about the evil cuts introduced by the evil government. "I will get you help by hook or by crook," she says to a patient. "What kind of help are we going to get with all these cutbacks?" asks the patient. "I laugh at cutbacks, I sneer at them," says Frankie. And who do you think has introduced those cuts anyway? Men.

The programme then continues for a long, long time in this vein. It is a drama with the fascinating complexity and wit of a bus ticket. It is grossly patronising to us, and to nurses. It is like an irritating exercise video turned into a TV drama, or a character from an advert for low-fat yogurt who has been given her own show. But who wants low-fat TV? We want full-fat TV. We want TV that's complex and challenging and bad for us. We want TV that is evil.