It doesn’t take a Nobel winner to identify a connection between DNA Journey (ITV1, Wednesday) and a certain BBC show in which celebrities take a clamber through their family tree. Remember the fuss when Danny Dyer, actor of this parish and the subject of a Who Do You Think You Are? was found to be a descendant of King Edward III? It turned out to be not as much of a coup as first thought, but why let science get in the way of a good story.

ITV invited Ricky Tomlinson and Sue Johnston to be driven to various locations where friendly genealogists would be waiting to spill the haricots on the actors’ ancestors. Ricky and Sue, aka Bobby and Sheila from Brookside and Jim and Barbara Royle, will be proud working class Scousers till they die, so it was a fair bet we were in for an hour of humble origins being uncovered. Nothing wrong with that, but it turned out to be wrong. The pair left Danny Dyer and his so-called royal links for dust.

The lifelong mates wandered arm in arm around the Lake District, Liverpool and other locations, charming everyone they met. None of your fancy stuff for Ricky and Sue. When they entered a room they gave anyone waiting for them the full surprised “Hello!” treatment, as if a camera crew wasn’t waiting just out of shot. Old school, we like that.

Sue found out she was one third Scottish and that a certain town in the Borders was hoaching with her ancestors. Ricky the lifelong socialist hit the jackpot too. He cried, they cried, we all cried. Of course it was manipulative. Certain stories were chosen over others because they made better telly (there were photos to show, for example), but it was the wider picture that mattered, the feeling of being part of something bigger than oneself.

The London-set drama Mr Loverman (BBC1, Monday) had more people of a certain age musing about time flying too damn fast. Barrington “Barry” Walker, 74 years on this planet and married for 50 of them, had resolved to leave his churchgoing wife to live with Morris, his lover. “I can’t keep on keeping on,” says Barry. Morris’s face tells us this isn’t the first time he has heard this promise. But there are Barry’s two daughters to consider, and the community’s reaction.

Based on the novel by Bernardine Evaristo, Mr Loverman is overfond of flashbacks and some of the characters - one daughter in particular - are painted with the broadest of brushes. But it is fresh, nicely soapy (each episode breezes by at just half an hour), and the Hackney setting looks great. Best of all there’s Lennie James leading from the front as Barry, a man who doesn’t want to live a lie any more but is terrified he will be left with nothing if he tells the truth.

There was more seizing the day going on in New Zealand’s Best Homes with Phil Spencer (Channel 4, Wednesday). Phil has struck out on his own before, but this seemed bolder, more ambitious. It involved getting on a plane for starters, and he was wearing shorts throughout.

Did his oppo Kirstie, with whom he had appeared earlier that evening in Location, Location, Location, know about this international side hustle of his? And what about Grand Designs’ Kevin McCloud, who was on after Locations and before solo Phil. Was Kev cool with Phil parking his tank on new build territory?

It’s a risky business messing around with the natural order of property shows. One soon wondered if it was worth it. The first home in Queenstown, South Island, was stunning, better than anything I’ve seen on a property show, including The Parisian Agency (Netflix). Phil’s gob was suitably smacked as he was shown round by the architect. “It is blowing my mind,” he said of the lakeside and mountain setting.

Thereafter, while the locations remained fabulous the houses started to look awfully familiar, just one big metal/wooden box after another. Seemed daft to go all that way for something you could have seen on Grand Designs.

No one spoke about the cost of the houses, which was no fun. Where will all this roaming end? I fear that Pip, his expectations heightened greatly, may never again find happiness locating a three-bed semi in Essex with room for an extension.

The Man Who Definitely Didn’t Steal Hollywood (BBC2, Friday), being the amazing but true story of the former waiter who bought MGM for $1.3 billion, was the bizarre watch of the week. Even by the end of this Arena documentary, complete with an ace running joke about the title, it was anyone’s guess where the money came from to buy the studio. Filmmaker John Dower’s biggest coup was landing an interview with the enigmatic buyer, Giancarlo Parretti, at his home in Orvieto. At the end a caption informed us that Parretti had withdrawn his co-operation from the film. No greater honour, apart from an Oscar, can be bestowed on a documentary.