You should never watch Torchwood with anyone from Cardiff.

The series, set in the Welsh capital, is arguably the BBC's answer to a question that nobody has ever asked but, if they had, would have gone something like "what would a British X Files be like?". After watching Torchwood, one realises exactly why the question has never been on anyone's lips.

The X Files never appealed to me. I'm as much a fan of television sci-fi as the next shy, skinny male, but something about a series which relied on never having an episode ending with anything other than a pair of wide-eyed agents staring up at the sky muttering "Aliens again" in an inversion of Scooby Doo didn't appeal. But at least I can understand why it exists - the US has what is possibly a tradition of alien sightings and governmental agencies. We have a tradition of drinking too much and shouting.

The second of Torchwood estranged parents is the British traditional, Doctor Who. A show born amidst a thousand clichés back in 1963, it was recently resurrected for a new generation of TV watchers as the BBC's flagship brand. The show is linked to Torchwood by the exploits of the latter's dashing lead, Captain Jack Harkness who occasionally tags along with the good Doctor, presumably whenever the ratings dip.

The premise for Torchwood reads like a committee-written checklist - a leader with a mysterious past; of a secret government agency; comprised of sexy individuals; with guns; and nob jokes. Torchwood is apparently 'for adults'. An 'adult science fiction show'. But this doesn't explain the fact that the humour sounds like its been copied from a bunch of underage drinkers at the BBC's local, falling into the unfortunate belief that adults love innuendo more than anything else, more even than pop culture references (it's got those too).

Oh yes, and everyone is bisexual - which wouldn't be at all a problem if the various characters didn't feel the need to subtly announce this to everyone they meet. By making out with everyone they meet. The tension of a gun fight in a night club is quickly broken by one of the team pointing out that their assailant is, well, something of a cutie.

At least Doctor Who attempts to transcend its genre, with a protagonist who actively tries to move through a plot without gratuitous murder. To contrast this with Torchwood, in which one episode's star alien was put down for kicking up a fuss at the though of being, um, put down, and where an entire laboratory complex full of aliens is flooded with lethal radiation because it would take too much effort to evacuate would be as one-sided a fight as those in which the show revels.

The problem isn't that gunplay is so heavily featured – though it certainly is; rather, the show becomes awkward once it becomes obvious that no other solution to a problem is even discussed. In this, the second series, there have so far been three hostage situations, of which all were swiftly ended with a bullet from Harkness' gun. Negotiation is not on the agenda, it's not at the meeting. It's not even cleaning the room afterwards, with a teary “there should have been another way” scene - previously obligatory in this sort of show.

It becomes noticeable that Torchwood has ceased to grip the concentration when – if watching the show with a resident of Cardiff – listening to them point out landmarks seems more interesting than the adolescent flirting. And one thing the show does do particularly well is showcase Cardiff, with sweeping shots of the sparkling urban centre mixed with gritty street-pounding segments. However, with the majority of the show's audience presumably not straining the big numbers with their intellects, one wonders how well Torchwood is helping tourism. The viewers are probably too worried about the city's aliens to visit.