They would often get praise for such a "brave" role and even win awards.

That never sat well with me. It was akin to casting a white actor to play a character of another race.

If a character has a disability, why not just cast an actor with that disability in the first place?

That's what's happened here in Latecomers, a show where Angus Thompson and Hannah Diviney - both of whom have cerebral palsy - play Frank and Sarah, who meet when their carers hook up.

It's sweet, tender and very, very funny.

And if there's any justice in the world, it should win some awards.

Police-related shows like this - and you can chuck RBT into the mix - make me feel a little ashamed.

Why? Because I like them, even though I feel like I shouldn't.

I never set out to watch them. Never scan through the TV guide to find out when they're on. Never set the TV box to "series link" so as to catch any new episodes that pop up.

And yet, if I'm flicking through the channels looking for something to watch and something like this appears, I just can't help myself. I have to watch.

Now that I think about it Border Security has very much the same effect on me.

Maybe it triggers a sense of schadenfreude in me; maybe I take a bit of secret glee in seeing people doing something stupid and getting caught out.

Yeah, that's probably it. And there are quite a few of those people in this episode - people who think telling the cops "it's my mate's car" or "that's not mine" when some contraband is fished out of the boot will see them avoid a fine or jail time.

The first few seasons of the NRL women's competition came with an element of veiled sexism. Sure, there was some overt stuff too, but that's easy to spot.

The veiled stuff went along the lines of expressing surprise and admiration when a player was tackled hard and how tough the player was to get up again.

That always irritated me - they're playing a contact sport, the players know that means they're going to get hit hard. It doesn't come as a surprise to them and yet commentators and the like would react as though they were shocked it was happening to a woman.

Fortunately, we're largely beyond those days (pity it's not the same with the overt sexism) and we can now appreciate the women as players first and foremost.

That's really the approach taken here in this documentary about the Queensland team preparing for State of Origin.

A large part of the appeal of this doco is that, unlike the men's State of Origin (which gets an insane amount of coverage) the behind-the-scenes look at the women's version is very much untapped.

So that makes this show feel fresh, like you're seeing something for the first time.