AGAINST my better judgement, I began to watch an American film on TV the other night.

It was about a mountaineering expedition to K2, the second highest peak in the world, and notorious for being probably the most dangerous to climb.

True to form with Hollywood, the dialogue contained more cliches than a post-match soccer interview - "I'm going to save your life and get you off this mountain, Goddamit" - and the plot was not to put to finer point on it, rather puerile.

At one point, two members of the expedition began to beat each other up and the obvious stereotype 'bad guy' later froze to death, as all bad guys who climb mountains should do, according to Hollywood directors.

The portrayal of the native porters, who incidentally were from the wrong country, was only a slight improvement on the way red indians used to be portrayed in cowboy films - ie surly, ignorant, greedy and doomed unless saved by patronising white men.

How much money was spent on the film I'm not sure, but no expense could have been unspared on the scenery.

At one point the Himalayas completely lost their covering of snow, exposing a sandstone cliff on a sunny day as one climber lowered his injured 'best buddy' down the studio mountain to safety, both dressed for sub-zero temperatures and sporting iced-up beards and moustaches.

Needless to say, I did not continue watching to find out whether the two actually made it down the mountain and home without further mishaps because I have a low drivel threshold, but it did start me thinking about why supposedly sane men climb dangerous mountains in the first place.

Another recent TV programme, this time a documentary, concentrated in exploring the effects of high altitude on a team of Americans climbing Everest - a doddle compared to K2.

Although it was mildly interesting to watch the climbers straining to add two and two correctly at 29,000 feet in temperatures of countless degrees below freezing, I was more struck by the chilling encounters they made on their way up the mountain.

Every now and again at high level, they would stumble across bodies lying unmoved from where they either dropped dead or fell during previous expeditions.

It may seem rather callous for climbers to simply step over dead people on their way up to the summit, but one of them explained that nothing could be done if their own expedition was to stand a chance of success.

The climbers were so weak from the effects of altitude, freezing weather and the numbing exertion of moving upwards through snow and ice, if they tried to recover dead people as well they would not have enough strength left to get to the top.

Perhaps it's time someone made a request for a new expedition with the sole task of carrying away bodies from the slopes of Everest.

After all, so many people get to the top nowadays, climbing Everest is hardly counted as an achievement worth placing on your CV.

It would be much more impressive if you came back from the Himalayas with a cartload of frozen climbers to receive a proper burial by their loved ones.

Just thinking about the poor beggars lying stiff in the snow must upset their families almost as much as discovering their loss in the first place.

If anyone wants to finance the expedition I'd be happy to join them if I can get a sabbatical from this newspaper.

For once Sherpa porters would be carrying heavy loads down from base camp instead of up.

And, if the same expedition also began to collect rubbish bags full of discarded expensive mountaineering paraphernalia to sell back home, then the whole enterprise might even make a profit.

On the other hand, volunteers might be put off by some of the more debilitating effects of high altitude on the human body.

In the thin air at more than 20,000 feet or so, air pockets in tooth fillings can expand to uncontainable pressure, causing your teeth to literally explode.

Perhaps this painful and, I imagine, somewhat surprising, phenomena would prevent members of the Everest Corpse Collection Expedition uttering silly cliches such as: "I'm going to get you down this mountain, Goddamit."

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.