IF you grow up on a nasty council estate, how do you know you’re growing up on a nasty council estate?

That’s not a riddle or trick question; I think that when a child is living in a deprived area, and has never known leafy streets and polished dining tables, then they won’t be aware of anything nicer until it’s finally shown to them.

I grew up in Fernhill, an estate outside Rutherglen. The swing park was crunchy with broken glass. Our flat was damp and the walls were streaky with blackness. We had no carpet in the hall and so I scattered my Ladybird books along its length and my sister and I used them as stepping stones to avoid the cold floor in winter. (And before any pedants ask why we didn’t just wear slippers, I assume the “stepping stones” approach had more appeal to us as children.) Going to the shops on a Saturday night was dangerous because of “bad boys”, and when my cousin began hanging around with said “bad boys” he ended up in the Victoria with a machete wound.

I don’t live there now, and I’m not ashamed to say I’m relieved. Thinking back to 1980s Fernhill, I shudder. Did I really live there? Did I wander around freely? Did I sleep every night with my nose inches from saggy, spongy wallpaper? Well, yes, and it was fine. It was only after I’d moved away that I realised how grim it was.

I didn’t know Fernhill was bad at the time. I actually liked growing up there. I had pals upstairs and most of the neighbours were nice, we could easily walk to school, and there was a huge empty field which was great for sledging in when it snowed. I didn’t know I was poor and living in “a bad area” until my mum married a posh dude in 1993 and he moved us all to Erskine.

So my council estate was fine – until I left. Is that how it is for all the weans across Scotland who live in deprived areas? Are they all just getting on with things, unaware of a different life, until something happens to make them see it differently? In my case it was a sudden move to Erskine, and for the people of Raploch, perhaps it was the arrival of a BBC crew.

Raploch in Stirlingshire once had a terrible reputation, with high levels of poverty, unemployment and crime, and the BBC dropped by 15 years ago to make a documentary about life there. Now the cameras have returned and in Raploch: Where Are They Now? (BBC2, Monday) we were able to catch up with the people who appeared in the original film.

It was a warm and optimistic programme, and proved my theory right: that people who’re living in poverty needn’t be stuck in it forever. Once you see a glimpse of a different life you can, with the right amount of luck and attitude, escape it.

When we first saw Ashley she was at primary school and was spending her young life in care. The stats tell us that children in the care system face often face terrible difficulties when they enter adulthood. Ashley confirmed this, saying she’d been told to quell any ambition and that university wasn’t for the likes of her – but now she’s taking an honours degree at Stirling University.

There was a similar happy story with Steven who was formerly a drug user but is now clean and spends his time helping other addicts.

The film was heart-warming, and proves again and again that people shouldn’t be written off because they’re from a bad area, or have spent their life in care, or are battling a drug addiction. There is usually always hope.

THIS week brought two new comedies to the screen. The best one was Famalam (BBC2, Wednesday) which is a pilot sketch show and I beg the BBC to give them a proper series.

The performers are black, and lots of the jokes were about African culture and traditions, so will a white woman from Glasgow find anything funny here? My God, yes!

One sketch about a black man watching porn had me in stitches. He skims through the channels featuring skinny women in lingerie and settles on footage of a fat black woman in a turban who’s stirring a pot of spicy stew. She tantalises him with talk of the many fine sons they will have and, oh, these boys will be big and strong and become doctors and lawyers! Yes! He will be respected in the village!

After the man has, er, finished, he wipes his hands and turns the TV off, only for the hefty woman to appear on his doorstep with her luggage, demanding to know why he switched off and declaring, “You are now my husband!”

Maybe I loved this so much as it felt like a glorious shove at political correctness. It’s also a poke in the eye at those who moan the BBC is having more women and ethnic minorities on TV at the expense of quality. Well if this is what we get when they open the door to black comedians then I say give us much, much more!

But not everything can be funny, as Bad Move (STV, Wednesday) demonstrated. Despite having the surly Jack Dee on board it was weak and flimsy.

A couple have left the city to live in a “dip” in the countryside, and we had lots of jokes about how they can’t get Wi-Fi in the “dip”. Dee’s character was a web designer, so why on earth would he move to an area where the internet is inaccessible? His wife fares no better as she tries to get work as a gardener but the elderly locals only want to pay her in cake.

It was so tame. If only it been gutsy and bold, like Famalam. They weren’t afraid of poking fun at black stereotypes, so why should the white cast of Bad Move be wary of mocking posh, white middle class types who live in country cottages?