Deep in the bowels of Britain are men up to their knees in our waste. Wading through rats, fats and poo, these fine chaps are making sure the arteries of our sewers don't get clogged. We all owe these boys a pint. The Boys From The Brown Stuff (BBC2, Bank Holiday Monday, 9pm) looked at a group of... eccentrics... who work beneath us (geographically speaking... not in status... these blokes are twice the man I am). So what's so interesting about a bunch of chaps covered in faeces? Well... you'd be surprised.

The men involved in the show feel like they been found in a time capsule (maybe they have? Maybe that's the result of working underground all the time?). There is no question that they''re all emotionally repressed and slightly backward in their attitudes toward certain things... but above all, they're all decent, upstanding blokes who are completely dedicated to their repellent job.

I've always found that real people (ie Anyone who doesn't work in media or the entertainment industry) have infinitely more interesting lives. Maybe it's their frankness? Maybe it's the fact that, if they moan about a tough time in their life, you know it's going to be something really horrendous as opposed to 'my life was really hard when I wasn't inspired anymore'. Then again, that's probably because I like Ken Loach films... and you don't get more gritty than people who actually spend their working hours in my shit.

The biggest revelation was the philosophies on life that crept through the pores of this show. Seeing one man compare his job to life and the universe was both humbling and fascinating. I can't remember the exact quote, but to paraphrase, he likened the life to a flower or a peach. You're born, then you ripen, then you mature... and then, with time, you "prune... wrinkle" and then turn to dust. It's clear to me that, in a job like this, you are afforded the time to contemplate and dream. While the world thunders above your head, you are detached and seperate, leaving you below the earth... thinking.

Of course, with a bunch of rum buggers like this, it ain't all serious. Working in the conditions that they do, you'll appreciate that a sense of humour is required. Their poo jokes are another surprising treat. When one man shows you his "Flusher Walk" - something you develop whilst on the job so you don't splash all manner of dreadful things in your own face - he gives a wry wink and starts to act like he's an entertainer from an old music hall. It's also clear that, with a job like this, bonds are made with your colleagues that last a lifetime.

One "flusher", who stills lives with his mum, goes out on a night out with his workmates (after telling the viewer that he's looking for love and thinks that he could "make someone very happy"). He gets ready and lets us in on his beautifying process which essentially means using a bit of moisturiser. "Y'know... you have to keep up with the feminine stuff... I mean... people will probably think you're a poof... (genuine blush)... sorry... gay or whatever." Later, in the pub, and talking to two (very) young girls, he is promptly rejected: "I thought I was in there, but then I started talking about sewers and that was it, game over." Even though this raises a smile, it's pure pathos.

However, the main draw of this wonderful documentary was the touching tale of best mates Vince and Martin. Both of these men have found themselves at the wrong end of divorces, past their prime and a little lost in life. Most importantly, they are both going for the same promotion which will take them out of the sewers. The brotherly bond sees them both genuinely wishing each other the best of luck, and when the less gobby one gets the job, they both share a genuinely touching moment when offering support and promising that they will still stay mates.

There's an old saying that says "Where there's muck there's brass" or, in this case, Where there's muck, there's TV gold...