Meerkats are just so last year. After a YouTube clip of a slow loris stretching went viral, the endangered Indonesian primate has become the new, must-have exotic cute pet. It's the big cartoon eyes that are irresistible apparently. Not that I know anyone with a slow loris – or have ever heard anyone expressing a desire for one – but Natural World – Jungle Gremlins of Java (BBC2) said it was true, so it probably is.

And that's one of the great pleasures of the Natural World strand. I find out a lot of stuff about things I know nothing about; stuff of no immediate importance to me, stuff that will probably only ever be useful as a University Challenge answer and yet stuff that leaves me feeling more enriched for knowing it. Which is more than can be said for the countless other documentaries on subjects I didn't even know I didn't know about.

So what I learned about the slow loris is that it is not as slow as all that – an adult can cover 8km a night, it produces its own insect repellent, it is the only venomous primate and struggles to survive if fed on bits of cake rather than toxic, brightly coloured creepy-crawlies. It also turns out that the slow loris gives off a repulsive smell, which might help to deter anybody thinking of getting one as a pet.

What I didn't learn, but was keen to find out, is why Dr Anna Nekaris, the slow loris expert, goes out of her way to dedicate herself to a single species. Not that I don't admire her focus, or am ungrateful for her work, it's just that I genuinely don't understand the mindset of someone whose idea of a good time is disappearing into a rainforest on her own for months at a time.

"The night is so much more peaceful," she said as she tramped through the dense Javan jungle in pursuit of a slow loris. "There's just you and the animals. There are so many possibilities." Including being attacked by a leopard, bitten by a snake and falling down a ravine. I suspect the failure of imagination is all mine, but I can't rule out the possibility that it's hers. Compared to Nekaris, the slow loris is an open book.

No such problems for Heston Blumenthal, who seems to be making a deliberate effort to become more and more blokey in How to Cook like Heston (Channel 4). Which only goes to show that too much self-revelation is probably a dangerous thing, as what made him such an attractive TV chef was his slight sense of mystery. An odd man with an odd name doing distinctly odd things with food. If you wanted to learn how to cook, you watched Delia or Jamie; if you wanted to be dazzled and entertained, you watched Heston.

So I can't help feeling that this latest series isn't playing to his strengths. I don't expect Heston to talk a hybrid of Nigella cliche and innuendo, such as "a cascade of mouthwatering pleasure" and "chicken-boosting aromas", and I certainly don't want him to do stagey blind-tastings with the Bray women's hockey team. I want him to do something transformative and totally over the top.

In any case, you can probably count on the fingers of one hand the number of people who really are going to try to cook like Heston. Let's face it, giving everyone the heads up at the beginning of the programme that all you're going to need is some dry ice and a blow torch was more than enough to encourage me to give up before I had even started. Above all, I don't watch Heston on television for the pleasure of seeing him cook a roast chicken. For while I'm sure his roast chicken is far, far better than any other I've ever tasted, I'm also fairly confident I would never clear 24 hours in my diary to brine the bird overnight before slow cooking it for 90 minutes, taking its temperature, leaving it to stand for 45 minutes and then cooking it for another 10 minutes.

If I'm going to cook to impress – a long shot I know: avoiding giving everyone food poisoning is a more realistic ambition – then I wouldn't bother cooking a roast chicken. Chicken pasta or chicken risotto, maybe, but not a roast chicken. Because even I have culinary standards. If very low ones. A roast chicken is strictly a meal for when I'm home alone with the family and no one feels much like making an effort. And though I do now know how to cook a chicken properly, I don't feel nearly as thrilled by this as I do by being able to tell you the slow loris has two tongues. Watch and learn from Dr Nekaris, Heston.