Louis Theroux's Weird Weekends

By FRANCES GRANT

Dr Win, of the Leisureworld retirement community in Los Angeles, has a master plan. The sprightly, tight-bunned senior citizen and fitness guru is going to be bigger than Bill Gates.

His slogans ("Win with Win!") and inspirational messages to himself are written all over the wall of his retirement unit, even on the fridge and stove.

The key to his usurping Gates as the world's richest man is this: "Only 15 per cent of people in the world have computers. How many have a body? Around 6 billion."

Dr Win is more than willing to share his wisdom, as cultural adventurer Louis Theroux discovered in the first of his Weird Weekends last week.

He's also happy to showcase the product he hopes will prove irresistible to all those bodies on the planet - the "beautiful buns" machine.

Dr Win belongs to a special subset of the American people. Yes, he dreams of unlimited wealth, but his real dream is to be a TV infomercial king.

The details of the buns machine have yet to be engineered, but Dr Win knows what kind of image will sell: a g-string-clad "girl's butt in the air."

The infomercial maniacs were the first sub-tribe Theroux hunted down in his series on the wacky groups and individuals who exist on the fringes of mainstream American culture.

Easy pickings? Of course. But it looks like Theroux has the ability to make this more than a poke at some US folks' peculiar ability to be zealously deluded.

Despite his distinctly British accent, Theroux is the son of American travel author Paul Theroux.

Unlike his dad, Theroux jun appears to genuinely like the people he's making fun of.

He honed his skills as a writer working for the now defunct but once gloriously satirical US magazine Spy.

And he learned the art of television satire on Michael Moore's wonderfully provocative show TV Nation.

The TV Nation style - low-key, polite and utterly subversive - remains. But Theroux says his show explores subjects rather than taking aim at targets.

The charm of the show is that he seems to be agenda-free and is willing to do anything to understand those subjects.

Last week's sacrifices in the name of good television included repeatedly getting his butt smacked by the buns-obsessed Dr Win, and getting a makeover from another infomercial wannabe with a name which sounded like "Caesar."

Theroux actually managed to look pleased with the effect produced by Chasers "almost magic-like" face-shaping cosmetic stick with "macaronies minerals."

He sounded genuinely admiring of Case other revolutionary product - a two-fragrances-in-one perfume which looked like salad dressing.

If there's a flaw, it is that Theroux's faux enough act could get wearingly insincere.

But so far he's managed a pleasant mix of interest, satire and plain objectivity.

"I'm declaring war on fat kids," said Dr Win.

"Why?" asked Theroux. "They get picked on anyway."

In an interview with Salon internet magazine, Theroux admits his show is, inevitably, as much about him as his subjects.

But, ultimately, it's a British take on US foibles.

"Americans have this unusual degree of commitment to things that just don't square - they seem based on a misunderstanding of objective reality," he says.

"That isn't true of all the shows [in his series], but I think it's probably true for the best ones - the male porn stars, the born-again evangelists."

* Louis Theroux's Weird Weekends, TV One, 11 pm