IS there anything about Nigel Havers that does not purr “smoothie chops”? The last time we met he was playing Lewis Archer, a cad, in Coronation Street. Breaking ladies’ hearts and pinching their money, that was Lewis’s MO. But even when Lewis was awful, you still liked him.

Havers can use that charm of his for good or evil. I think it is the former in The Bidding Room (BBC1, Monday-Friday, above), though I may live to reconsider.

Featuring punters flogging bits and bobs to “discerning dealers”, The Bidding Room is a little bit Antiques Roadshow with a whiff of Dragons’ Den. The only possible objection you could have is that it will encourage people to acquire more tat they don’t need. They, in turn, will try to punt it on. Before you know it, the entire nation will be in a Tesco car park on a Sunday morning selling each other board games (pieces missing).

First along to the room was Paul, who had a 1930s perm machine and an old hair dryer. Both were in “display condition”, which meant they did not work. That handy piece of terminology came from Simon, a valuation specialist who gave punters an estimate of what their item was worth. In this case, said Simon, £60-£80. Armed with this intel, and encouragement from a white trainer-wearing Havers, Paul walked slo-mo down a corridor and into the titular room where he sold the items for £400.

The next lot, laboratory scales, were valued at £60-£70 and went for double that, a chest of tin drawers (£250) sold for £350, and a teddy (£70-£100) for £310. Now, either Simon was not very good at his job or the dealers were rubbish at theirs.

Either way it did not matter. Despite the increasingly desperate attempts of the background music and Havers to build tension (“The anticipation is sometimes too much to bear,” said Nige. Aye right), it was was pleasant enough daytime TV. I’d give you a fiver for it.

Value, and values, were the currency in Inside Monaco: Playground of the Rich (BBC2), a new three-part documentary about the income tax-free haven. Directed by Michael Waldman (Inside the Foreign Office, Inside Dior), it boasted, as every documentary must, of unprecedented access to places and people hitherto camera shy. In short, Prince Albert, the head of state, had let the media rabble in, but why?

The prince, let’s call him Bert since we’re all pals here, was a surprise. For some reason I did not think he would sound like an American CEO (he also spoke perfect French). The rest of it, however, was old news. Did you know that rich folk can be vulgar in their tastes, gold Ferraris and all? Or that they like their privacy? Yes, yes, yawn.

Most of Walden’s questions began with “How much …” So we learned, for example, that the penthouse suite at the Hotel de Paris costs 40,000 Euros a night. Other stuff it would have been grand to know was not forthcoming, as when Waldman asked Bert to explain how a person acquired citizenship in Monaco. “It’s too long to explain right now,” said the prince. Sorry for disturbing you, sir.

As Waldman explained, Monaco has allowed the cameras in because it is facing competition from Dubai and Singapore. Monaco is old money and, increasingly, old people. It needs to appear more hip if it is to attract the new money of tech titans and their like.

This look at the lives of the super rich could have been a televisual gewgaw, a silly distraction at a time when many folk are wondering where their next mortgage payment is coming from. Precisely because we are living in such times, Inside Monaco came across as crass, inopportune, and stunningly irrelevant.

Andrew Marr sought succour in art in The World’s Greatest Paintings (Channel 5, Saturday), beginning with an hour-long exploration of Leonardo’s Mona Lisa. “Art, not politics, is the greatest passion of my life,” said Marr, himself a dab hand with a paintbrush. Wearing his enthusiasm with pride, the Scot spoke to some excellent talking heads as well as giving his own take on matters. Unlike Inside Monaco, it was genuinely illuminating.

As a critic, Marr could be a bit of a dad dancer at times, calling the wealthy trader’s wife “The Marilyn of the early 20th century” when her image became globally famous. There are worse things than trying too hard, however. Next week it is Van Gogh’s Sunflowers.

If you have a Normal People sized gap in your life, allow me to recommend I May Destroy You (BBC1, Monday-Tuesday). Written by and starring Michaela Coel, it is the tale of an achingly hip young writer (Coel) finding out who her real friends are after after a night out goes horribly wrong.

Stuffed with drugs, sex, and Soho types, it might not seem like your cuppa green tea, but it is fresh, engaging, and in Coel a star is born. Definitely worth investing in.