Maybe, though maybe not, for I can remember that during the war, even as bombs could be heard falling on the approaches to London, cinemas would stop the flick and a Wurlitzer player would rise from the depths. ``Let's show Jerry we can make more noise than he can,'' he would suggest. Everybody would cheer mightily and sing along to the words of popular songs projected on the screen, each chased by a bouncing dot to show where we had got to. From this distance, it is hard for us to fathom the mood of New Yorkers, so suddenly assaulted, and interesting that such comic luminaries as Bill Cosby and Jerry Seinfeld recently staged a benefit concert to show everybody that it was still OK to laugh. Which brings us to The West Wing, which last week in the US opened its new season after a week's delay, following considerable soul searching. Nine won't be showing the new series with President Bartlett's tricky re-election campaign until the new season starts in February but, having drawn a swag of appreciative viewers to this entertaining series, is wisely reacting by showing a special episode Isaac and Ishmael written and produced within three weeks of events of September 11. In a special and very American set of introductions by the cast it is Brad Whitford, who plays White House deputy chief of staff Josh Lyman, who says: ``Don't panic, we're in show business and next week we'll get back to tending our egos in short order. But tonight we are offering a play. We suggest you don't spend a lot of time trying to fathom where this series comes in the timeline of the series. It doesn't, it is a storytelling aberration.'' Lyman is in the middle of giving a welcoming lecture to some high school students when he is interrupted by a ``crash'' White House terminology for an external crisis. What he does is offer a rationale of Islamic principles and beliefs dating back to medieval times. It is all rather pat, but behind an only moderately intriguing scenario of a newly suspect member of the White House staff, those who enjoy the flamboyance of The West Wing will gain some pleasure here. Particularly as Josh manages to thoroughly fertilise his ego in a speedily written episode that admittedly could have done with some tweaking, but offers itself as an encouraging example of American television running on the best of intentions. I enjoyed it, but I'm a fan, and for a while, as did those old-fashioned cinema organists, it offers an acceptable escape hatch from the universal din going on everywhere else. Hot Bubblegum

Martin Sheen's President Josiah Bartlet may be a Democrat and his staff solidly on the left but all opinions are given a voice and, with brilliant creator-writer Aaron Sorkin providing the words, a most articulate voice at that. This mainly bipartisan approach is one of the reasons for the show's popularity and why millions of Americans tuned into The West Wing's special episode made in response to the events of September 11 (Nine, 10.30pm). They were looking for sanity and meaning in a world seemingly gone mad. Unfortunately, this balanced, non-inflammatory approach to the terrorist attacks makes it a stillborn drama - preachy, self-important and pulling its punches so often that it's hardly surprising the episode has, ironically, angered both left and right in the US. The clumsy dramatic device of having the staff address a group of visiting high school students trapped inside The White House during a security lapse can be forgiven because this one-off episode, called Isaac and Ishmael, was made in record time after the atrocities. However, in having the students ask a series of questions - "What's the deal with everybody trying to kill you?" one youngster asks Josh Lyman - Sorkin reduces what may have been a powerful debate about the roots of terrorism, the rise of Islamic fundamentalism, America's role in the Middle-East and so forth into a social studies class for stragglers. Sure, many of these issues are covered and there is even a little sparring between Josh and the others staffers. But Sorkin is so anxious not to offend, obvious points are not made, such as the billions of dollars Washington poured into supporting the mujahedin during the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan then abandoning them once the Russians were defeated. Even more annoying is that many of the assertions, such as the claim by Rob Lowe's Sam Seaborn that terrorism has never worked, are allowed to pass unchallenged, something that would never happen in a regular season episode of The West Wing. Anyone with even the most rudimentary grasp of history would know that terrorism has been incredibly effective in achieving political ends, most notably in the foundation of Israel. Unfortunately, in attempting to salve America's wounds The West Wing has fatally compromised itself as drama. The result is a lame duck show at a time when we desperately need a little moral and intellectual leadership from our most valued artists.

The big question in tonight's episode concerns President Bartlet and his recently revealed multiple sclerosis. The question of will he or won't he seek re-election is not as important as the real concern: What will he say when he reconfirms his intentions? (Another question crossed my mind: does this President eat pretzels?) To assist him are many speechwriters who are not very good at putting words together. If they'd been at Gettysburg, the battle could never have started. Especially C.J. Cregg, the sensitively abrupt media spokespanjandrum who makes a huge error in response to an aggressive question concerning the President's abilities to properly judge a prospective invasion of Haiti: ``I think the President's relieved to concentrate on something that matters,'' says C.J., producing one of West Wing's rare moments of complete stillness and silence. Add to this, the First Lady's continuing problem with the bottle and whether or not the First Man is paying her enough attention. Then there's someone called Bruno, employed to get the President re-elected, who is just plain nasty to everyone in sight. He's going to be trouble, Bruno. Perhaps the First Lady will knock him out with an empty fifth Jack Daniels and save the rest of the cast the trouble.

In the course of one drizzly Sunday morning, Donna's spontaneous mistake leaves the West Wing vulnerable, proposed war-crimes legislation shines a light on Leo's past and, now that Timothy Busfield has gone, there's a new gonzo journalist in the press corps to flirt with CJ. There's also some light fluff for Sam concerning the worth of the penny. This minor story line is perfectly pitched for the talents of Rob Lowe. The highlight of the episode is a brilliantly scripted tete-a-tete about gun control between the shiny president and his snarky and little-seen vice-president, in which their profound distaste for each other must play second fiddle to their symbiotic grasp on power. Excitingly, this is also the episode where Toby stuffs up, when his casual in-house remark that if the president wins office again it will be ``by riding the coat-tails of the vice-president'' reaches the press. Toby being Toby, the hand-wringing Jewish mama of the West Wing, he manages to turn this into an opportunity to gather every junior staffer in the canteen and blitz them with a guilt-fest climaxing in the confession that even though one of them had shafted him, ``he would do anything for them''. Anything, that is, except deny himself a chance for a long, worthy speech that eats up plenty of screen time.

As the camera whooshes through these corridors of power, there's always a sense that if the lens turns right you'll bump into a Situation Room cliffhanger, turn left and you'll find the honest and earnest prez-assistant, Charlie, angsting over some minor protocol indiscretion. (Despite the speed of these tracking shots you need never fear the camera's going to front-end a gaggle of coffee-slurping extras - more thought appears to go into this bit-part choreography than goes into the entire writing, acting and direction of the Australian television industry.) Tonight's episode of The West Wing (Channel Nine, 10.30 pm) opens with CJ at her gawkily comic best, gyrating to the sounds of I'm too sexy. No, CJ hasn't found love because no one who works at the White House seems to have a private life (the closest we come is Donna and Josh's Tracy/Hepburn-ish flirtation). Instead, CJ gets off on the inane response a rival presidential hopeful has given to the question ``Why do you want to be president?'' But CJ, realising her own president doesn't have a pat answer to The Big Question, sees her and Josh plunge into a maelstrom of semantics as they try and come up with one: ``Something about health, blah, blah, something about the Internet, blah, blah ...'' Toby, too, gets to have his comic moment, deadpan of course, as he argues for the retention of $105 million in funding for the National Endowment for the Arts. As a prim Republican lobbyist lists the taxpayer-funded wacko artists whose work includes smearing their body in chocolate while reciting the script from The Godfather backwards, Toby fights back with noble words about the worth of the arts. So noble they could come from the mouth of President Bartlet. But Bartlet tonight is in a lighter mood. Even the possibility of losing a sub in North Korean waters doesn't take the spring out of his step as he allows jokes about his height and his fondness for Latin phrases to reflect well on him. The only sign of gathering storm clouds are the First Lady's murky involvement in keeping mum about the First Hubby's MS. It's all very Hillary, all very Whitewater.

Sheen is a small man in a tall cast, headed by Allison Janney's towering press secretary CJ Cregg. However, when the veteran actor and real-life political activist starts bellowing about democracy or the constitution or, as in tonight's Thanksgiving episode, the best way to cook a turkey, all his aides can do is hang on for dear life. Sheen's rise to power on The West Wing is ironic because his character was conceived by series creator Aaron Sorkin as a much more shadowy figure. The emphasis was on the hard-working men and women who got him elected and make sure the wheels of government are well oiled. However, Bartlet proved to be such a popular character - perhaps because he possesses all the qualities that Americans yearn for in a president but rarely get - that Sheen became The West Wing's focus. Homer Simpson did much the same thing, elbowing aside his son Bart and "Doh!" replacing "Don't have a cow, man" as the show's catch cry. This is a shame, because Bartlet striding through a celebrated drama like a colossus shifts things away from the power-broking - the fascinating, spirit-sapping struggle to get things done in the face of so many competing interest groups - toward the agony and ecstasy of being the president of the world's remaining superpower. A good example of this tendency of Bartlet to overwhelm The West Wing is in a sub-plot in tonight's episode. The president discovers that Bruno Gianelli, his equally blustery re-election campaign adviser (the marvellous Ron Silver), is planning to make political mileage out of the first family's holiday plans. Bartlet shouts his objection, Gianelli barks his reply and the matter is solved within moments. Sure, the sparks flying is great fun and it's a hoot to have the silver-tongued Silver cut the president off at the knees, but I'd much rather watch Josh agonise over where the family and CJ sweat about how to make the announcement. In other words, this is a rare instance when I'd prefer the president to be a little more hands-off. Let him go play golf or fool around with the interns while his staff gets on with the job of running a great television show.