IF BBC presenter John Humphreys had his way there would be no such thing as BBC3.

Humphreys, a serious man in a suit who appears on the television, considers the output of the fledgling channel to be of lesser importance than that of the Radio 4 Today programme, which he happens to present, and which felt the sharp end of some recent budget cuts.

His point of view is also held by Panorama reporter John Sweeney, and Jeremy Paxman, of Newsnight fame.

This alone, for me, would be reason enough to tune in. But I would watch BBC3 anyway, simply because it tends to show programmes such as 'Mind, Body and Kick Ass Moves' which few rival channels would dare to. (That and Family Guy, which, parents, is like what the Simpsons would be like were it still funny.)

MBandKAM is presented by Chris Crudelli, a sort of Brummie Bruce Lee, who, throughout the course of the series, travels around the world learning about different martial arts. It is a fascinating show, made all the more so by Crudelli's unique presenting style and rapport with the grand masters he encounters.

Crudelli is also a proper expert himself, having studied kung fu from a young age, trained as an actor at Birmingham's Old Rep Theatre as a youth, and become a bit of a cult figure.

That much is clear as I approach the Karate Academy in Bradley Lane, Newton Abbot. There are a small number of chaps outside, looking slightly fretful as the little hand creeps its way towards three, the appointed hour of Crudelli's arrival.

He is coming to give a seminar on some of those kick ass moves and just the mention of his name has brought followers from as far away as London.

Gary, who organised the event, is perhaps the most anxious of all as he scans the road for signs of Crudelli. "I hope he turns up," he says with a nervous laugh, "there's a lot of people in there."

He's right, there are a lot of people in there. They all appear to be wearing black and look a slightly menacing bunch. I, on the other hand, have turned up in the wrong trousers (jeans) and a bright blue T-shirt.

I step back outside to audible sighs of relief. "Got a bit lost," says the man in the Range Rover. It is Chris Crudelli, and no one is about to tell him off.

As Crudelli enters the hall, he has a powerful effect. The chatting stops, and about 40 pairs of eyes follows him up the concrete ramp which leads to the upper part of the dojo. "Hello everyone," he says. "I'm Chris Crudelli. Thank you for coming."

I get the impression the feeling is entirely mutual as we assemble on a large mat, with our teacher at the front, for a few warm-up exercises.

These are quite gentle for a while, the odd leg stretch, a bit of wrist twisting, a shuttle run between the two rooms. Then we do the elephant neck.

This is not a rock n roll dance circa 1956, it is the doorway to a whole new world of pain. It involves lying on your back, arms by your side, with your head off the floor. It sounds easy. I can assure you it is not.

"This is about reaching your pain threshold and going beyond it," says Chris as he walks among us, accompanied by various yelps and howls. "Your mind will be telling you to stop."

It is indeed but I manage to hold on until we are allowed to rest. I had never realised my head was so heavy.

The rest of the class is less physically painful, but only slightly so. First we pair up for a spot of kicking practice and the closest person to me when we do so is Ann, who has come from Lydford for the seminar and is wearing a T-shirt with Hybrid written on it. She is slight and friendly, but that is about to be tested as, following a brief introduction, me and Ann take it in turns to kick each other on the thigh.

Now I might be a little old-fashioned on this score, but repeatedly kicking a lady is a new experience for me and I keep apologising every time I connect too strongly.

To her credit, Ann does likewise, but I do get the feeling she is enjoying kicking me more than I her. It's no worry, I tell her, once you've played Sunday league football your legs are impervious to pain.

Soon enough we change partners for a spot of hand work. The closest person to me this time is Jason, who could not be more different to Ann if he tried.

Jason tells me he used to be 30 stone, but has lost a lot of weight thanks largely to his learning of wing chun, a Chinese martial art of mainly close-range fighting.

Part of the next exercise involves clawing at your partner's eyes, before chopping them in the throat and pushing them backwards. Again I'm apologising a lot, and helping Jason off the floor. He's very nice about it, but can sense the reason why I would be no use whatsoever in a combat situation.

Chris continues to walk among us, offering tips and some hands-on advice. At one point he demonstrates the technique on me, and I can't help but feel honoured and terrified in equal measure.

We move on to disarming knife attackers and for this my partner is Mike, who is the IT chap here at Herald Towers. Finally, no need for apologies.

Some of the moves we practise will definitely come in handy should Mike ever creep up on me armed with a very sharp toner cartridge and every intention of using it. Could happen.

The last thing we learn is what to do if someone holds a gun to your head, other than the obvious, involuntary action which might follow.

The seminar ends with us trying to disarm Chris, who holds a BB gun to our heads. Most people manage to take the gun off him, despite a maze of scratches on the lenses of the goggles we are supplied with.

When it comes to my turn I panic, go for the gun and miss miserably. Chris takes a step back and aims for my legs. I stand, helpless and hopeless, with knowing laughs from the escaped hostages heightening my isolation. He fires, I flinch. But the gun jams, and then it misfires.

I remember what Chris said earlier about the best form of defence being your feet. So I run like a rabbit, through the crowd and out of the room and let that be a lesson to me. Fortune favours the fortunate, the brave often get shot.

To his credit Crudelli did preach this message throughout the day, but is also of the opinion that knowing what to do in a threatening situation is better than not knowing.

He certainly knows what to do when the session is over and he is set upon by the whole class, wanting no more than autographs and pictures with their idol.

"I've got some T-shirts [black ones, naturally] and some DVDs if you want to buy any," Crudelli informs us. "But to be honest you're better off buying them on Amazon. I think the box set is five-ninety-nine now."

It's a nice touch and sums up the man. But it is not simply because he is so affable and approachable that Crudelli is being swamped.

"There aren't many people like him," says Jason. "He's famous because of his programme, but he's a proper master in his own right."

Steve — another with whom I performed the push over, apologise, pick up, push over, apologise routine — sums it up. "It's been a bit surreal really. You see him on telly, and then he's here, and he's throwing you over his shoulder."

True, it has been a bit surreal, but also really interesting and entertaining. No wonder Crudelli was such a perfect fit for BBC3.