'When I'm feeling blue, all I have to do is take a look at you, then I'm not so blue,' bleated slap-headed crooner Phil Collins in A Groovy Kind of Love. One would suspect, however, that the former Genesis drummer's response to his blueness would have been a little different had he seen the first instalment of outbreak-based drama Medical Investigation (Star World, Wednesday at 9pm). The pilot episode begins with a mini-epidemic of blue people swamping a New York City hospital. Unfortunately for the city - and Collins' bank account - they are not merely feeling sad and in need of some formulaic love songs to comfort them, but are physically turning blue and collapsing in the street. Fortunately for them, Dr Stephen Connor (Neal McDonough, Band of Brothers) and his colleagues from the National Institutes of Health are on the case. Playing like a cross between CSI and ER, Medical Investigation centres on Connor and his team, who comprise an elite government unit specialising in mysterious and deadly medical outbreaks. Connor is the kind of short-fused maverick who breaks the rules when he has to and makes life-or-death calls based on a hunch - like CSI Gil Grissom's angrier, blonder cousin. Helping him keep those nasty bugs and poisons at bay are the tenacious Dr Natalie Durant (Kelli Williams, The Practice), rookie Dr Miles McCabe (Christopher Gorham, Out of Practice), dogged medical inspector Frank Powell (Troy Winbush, John Q) and press liaison officer Eva Rossi (Anna Belknap, CSI: NY), who uses all her feminine wiles to stop journalists from causing a panic. Their debut case, strange as it may seem, is based on a real-life incident that occurred during the second world war and leads the team to investigate a diner at which all the victims had eaten that morning. But with food poisoning ruled out as the cause and patients dropping like bluebottles, the race is on to find the source of the infection. The solution the team reaches is far more ingenious than Collins could ever have imagined. While Medical Investigation appeals in much the same way as CSI, mixing under-the-microscope detail with theoretical reconstructions and against-the-clock action, the producers seem to have painted themselves into a corner with its premise: just how many variations can one have on the 'assess the outbreak, ponder the cause, find the solution' riff? This question seems to have been answered by the show's cancellation after one season in the United States, so grab a dose while you can. Over on National Geographic, there is drama of a different sort with No Borders: The Swenkas (today at 10pm). This unique and beautifully shot documentary trails a group of Zulu men in Johannesburg, South Africa, who are known as the Swenkas. Although poor, they spend their money buying flashy suits in which to 'go swanking' on a Saturday night. This involves casting off their grimy overalls, assembling in a run-down community hall and putting on what can loosely be described as a fashion show in front of their peers, one of whom acts as a judge. The men strut around like peacocks, showing off the cuts of their jackets, their ostentatious shirts (always with matching socks), highly polished shoes and jewellery that scores highly in the bling stakes. The evening's best swanker then waltzes off with a prize, which can range from a watch to a cow, depending on the importance of the competition. Bizarre and amusing as this spectacle is, the documentary also delves into the lives of two members of the group - Sabelo and Mr Zulu - revealing a deep moral code that underpins their fancy suits and preening. Sabelo is the youngest of the Swenkas and is at a major turning point in his life after the death of his father, who was the Swenkas' leader. With his brother in prison and his wedding just a week away, Sabelo must decide if he will step up to fill his father's shoes or leave swanking behind. Zulu, meanwhile, is a veteran Swenka, with 30 years' experience. He is known to consult witch doctors before a big contest to boost his chances of victory. Zulu, along with the other Swenkas, implores Sabelo not to turn his back on the tradition as the men return to their families in the country to prepare for Sabelo's wedding. Danish director Jeppe Ronde approaches the subject with a cinematic eye, which is rare for a documentary, finding moments of beauty amid the abject poverty of Johannesburg's most rundown streets, while the music - which ranges from ragtime to 1940s-style ballads - fits the action perfectly. But it is the Swenkas who steal the show. Their desire to respect and distinguish themselves works as an allegory for post-apartheid South Africa and a genuinely touching human drama, through which you can discover why 'love is like the knotting of a tie'.