PASS me the hammer and chisel, there's a good fellow. Now, this could be dangerous, so stand well back and be prepared for a dreadful smell.

No, I'm not opening next week's EastEnders scripts, I'm reliving the moment when archaeologist Howard Carter found the fabled burial chamber of King Tutankhamun in Egypt: Howard Carter And Tutankhamun (BBC One, 9pm, Sunday).

In fact, you could barely move for sandals, amulets and unconvincing facial wiggery this week as the BBC went overboard on all things ancient.

First there was that opening episode of Egypt, a six-part drama documentary on the land of the pharoahs, with special emphasis on the famous discovery of the tomb of the boy-king.

Lavishly filmed on location with staggering backdrops such as the Valley Of The Kings and the Nile, it had bags of atmosphere and Carter, his benefactor and all-round good egg, Lord Carnarvon and most of the major characters, including Carnarvon's daughter, who Carter fancied, were convincingly played as slightly starchy and mildly mad. Crazy hats, tweed trews and silly moustaches abounded, and that was just the women!

A refreshingly slow build towards the finding of the tomb allowed us to get to know more about Carter, who despite his famous discovery, was never popular, fell out with just about everybody and even lost his beloved Miss Carnarvon to another.

Flashback clips, reminiscent of old-fashioned programmes for schools, told the true history of King Tut, including the ironic fact that despite only being a minor king who was written out of the history books on account of his old man being a heretic, he's now the most famous mummy's boy in the world (apart from Gwaaaant Mitchell, that is).

Then before you could say "take me to the vomitarium" we were in Rome (BBC Two, 9pm, Wednesday).

When the mighty HBO (responsible for the likes of Band Of Brothers, The Sopranos and Six Feet Under) joins forces with the BEEB, you just know it's going to be event telly.

When the wall-to-wall pre-publicity screams "sex and violence and, even more sex and violence!", you know everybody's going to have to watch, even if it's just to be outraged by it.

And when the actors gaze menacingly from the achingly post-modern trailers and say things like "the streets of Rome are running with blood", you know that the phone's coming off the hook.

So, did it live up to the hype?

Well, yes and no.

Yes. The calibre of the actors, the sets, and the historical detail were superb; oh, and the throat-stabbing and the bull's blood shower caused a slight raising of the eyebrow.

No. The script was surprisingly lightweight and as for the much-hyped wall-to-wall rutting, it was more a case of, "time for another sex scene, luvvie, don't you think?".

And on that subject, am I the only sad person to note that the main cast members "do it" swathed in chiffon and surrounded by fan-wielding wenches, while the poor old extras have to make do with any old wall or a tree?