I know what you're going to say - it could have been worse. Yes. Of course it could have been worse. There are some good points. Here they are.
* Gisborne (as I believe he's spelled in this version). Richard Armitage, though positively seething with the knowledge that he is not, and will never be, Sean Bean, is rather marvellous and heinously attractive in a damn-it-I-will-never-be-Sean-Bean sort of way. He's appropriately intense and less incompetent than previous incumbents of the role, and he appears to wield a hard-won authority with a vicious back-watching pride that I think is both stunning and apposite.
* Will. Already I see a matching intensity in him, even though he's barely had any lines. BBC website says that Harry Lloyd, who plays him, has thus far been in that glittering string of 'yes, but what have you done apart from that' shows that includes Holby City and The Bill, but I think he deserves greater things.
* In the midst of crap TV is incidental homosexuality. Will's brother was the funniest and most endearing thing about the whole episode; he has fucking EMO HAIR, for god's sake, and a schoolboy crush on Robin as blatant as Richard Armitage's desire to be Sean Bean. Bless.
That's honestly all I can think of. So now I'm going to rant.
* The continual flashy arrow-shot words informing us of where exactly we are. Yes, it's trivial, but you mark my words, by the time you've seen three of them you will be shouting "OH, GROW UP" at the TV, and by the end of one episode may have taped paper over the bottom of the screen so as not to be distracted by gleaming gold lettering zipping in with sound effects to tell you you are in 'Sherwood Forest'. Really? Thanks for that.
* The fucking MUSIC. What the hell possessed them to make the theme tune and incidental music sound like the soundtrack from a 1950s film in which Errol Flynn plays Superman? Come on.
* Robin. Yes, that is a blanket statement and yes, I may end up taking it back at a later date - I hope - but my god. It's not that he's bad. It's not that he's Mancunian and a bit cheeky, as we were promised. No. It's much worse than that. He is dull. He is anodyne and dull. He is the last loaf of white bread left on the shelf that you buy even though you've never heard of the maker because all the better white bread has already gone. He is totally, utterly lacking in charisma. At all times. When he is being righteous. When he is flirting. When he is commanding. Dull, dull, dull. I am unbearably disappointed.
* Marian. Oh, jesus.
Because of course, all ex-Sheriff's daughters in the 12th century spent all their time learning to perfectly apply more makeup than Joan Collins and incidentally practising KILLING GUARDS WITH THEIR JEWELLED HAIRPINS FROM A DISTANCE.
Plus her face is made of dough and her outfits are made of those blankets you get in European B&Bs. Thanks. But no thanks.
* Everything heroic Robin does. Sorry, Robin. Sorry, BBC. I will not suspend my disbelief to the point where I can watch a man shoot four arrows through thickish hanging ropes AND THEN hurl his sword at the battlements, only to have it spin in slow motion and finally concuss two guards. And then ride through a wall of arrows, all of which miss him. In slow motion. Do you not realise that the slow motion actually makes it less believable? Not that it could have got much less believable. Especially not the bit with the sword. Plus - I don't know how many times I have to explain this to people who make TV and films, honestly - if four men are already hanging and you are going to save them, please don't make a speech while you're doing it. Please. They will be dead. Mind you, so should you, because the guards should run you through, instead of listening to your speech and only then drawing their swords.
* Much. Oh, I like him. He is charming, articulate and engaging. Which is why he is all wrong. Can he lead the Dour Bastards instead of Robin, please?
* The random tart in the house that was not a house but in fact a hastily thrown-together collection of sticks with some sheets hanging off them. Who had an unlikely dress and an even more unlikely hairdo, being as how it was a) dyed blonde and b) suffering visibly from the effects of all the previous blonde dye jobs and overwork with the 12th-century electric hair-curlers.
* OH GOD THE SHERIFF. IF I START I WILL NEVER STOP. CRUCIFY HIM. BURN HIM TO DEATH. BOTH AT ONCE.
Before this, sparksoflight and I watched an episode of Robin Of Sherwood.
There are always going to be other reasons I wish I'd been 22 in 1983. But that is currently the most pressing one.