Al Murray

He might be a friend of Ricky Gervais and a radio panel game regular, but Robin Ince isn't your average stand-up. He also runs a comedy institution called The Book Club, which involves him reading aloud from random second-hand tomes, and is a vocal atheist who curates gigs themed around science, Darwin and rationalism. This is a TV version of his festive variety show 9 Lessons and Carols for Godless People, which combines gags from Dara O'Briain, Al Murray, Shappi Khorsandi and Chris Addison with music, plus more intellectual fare from scientists and writers - the movement's daddy, Richard Dawkins, among them. Stimulating stuff.

Despite being a fully-fledged member of the Grumpies' fan club I bet narrator Geoffrey Palmer and his gang of grouchy celebs are the Christmas guests from hell.

Ronni Ancona will moan that your Jamie Oliver-inspired turkey and cranberry sauce is "basically chicken with jam", Al Murray will tell you to "go away" when you talk to him about the joy of giving (he actually uses stronger language but I'm starting my New Year's resolution a few days early) and Penny Smith will moan that it's all "sentimental claptrap". Donna McPhail will terrify your dog by declaring Christmas is "worse than a puppy because you can't put it in a sack and drown it." And Ozzy Osbourne will consider getting back on his quad bike to avoid the whole thing for a second time. It's "just b******s," he says. Oh damn, there goes my resolution already.

What everyone forgets about Christmas is that it's a gigantic, weird nightmare: the nation syncs up to exchange disappointing gifts and gnaw stuffing that tastes like twice-cooked cardboard. So thank Santa for these curmudgeons - and it's now a mixed-gender complaints fest - who snarl in the face of festive bounty, traditions and gift-giving.

If, like them, you're a proud Grinch, then you'll lap up their guide to all things that people of an older persuasion like to moan about at Christmas.

Sir Cliff's Mistletoe and Wine gets a toasting, as does the implausibly popular culinary combination of turkey with cranberry sauce ("basically, chicken with jam", says Ronni Ancona).

Al Murray writes off "the joys of giving", while Ozzy Osbourne says he was grateful for that near-fatal quad bike accident, because it mean that year he missed Christmas altogether: "It's not good will to all men. It's just b******s." Glad to see his injury didn't dent his legendary articulacy.

Al Murray Interview

Al Murray's Pub Landlord is one of the most successful comedy characters in "beautiful British" history. In real life, of course, the Chiswick-based drumming enthusiast is far removed from his xenophobic alter-ego.

For a simple stand-up comedy show that's extremely patchy (generally the bits with McIntyre are funny, the rest are hit and miss), this has had impressive viewing figures. Could be the pull of the impish McIntyre or just that the conveyor belt of comics rolls past so quickly, there's no time to get bored. The Roadshow is in Brighton this week, where McIntyre gleefully skips around the stage before launching into a full-throttle set of observations about the town and a spot of ad-libbing as a result of his chat with audience member Sally Gunnell. There are loads of holiday-related gags along the lines of "Why do airports have a terminal? That's not a word you want to hear when you're getting on a plane" from McIntyre and headline act Al Murray. Inspired by a physics student in the audience, the pub landlord explains why planes can't really fly - a routine that runs the gamut of aviation history from the Wright Brothers to the Battle of Britain. But best guest comic for me is Jo Caulfield whose dry take on life is wickedly funny.

The quality of the stand-up comedians in the series has been so high that it isn't a question of one being better than another - it just boils down to which one you happen to like the most. My personal favourite tonight was Jon Richardson, mocking his own nerdy appearance and funny voice. "This is not a voice that will accentuate a sexual experience," he squeaks. Jo Caulfield discusses her mates ("Every woman has a slutty friend. And if you can't think who it is, it's you"); Micky Flanagan recalls the academic shortcomings of his East End comprehensive ("No kid from this school has ever gone on to drive a van"); and Al Murray's pub landlord explains the existence of God.

Al Murray - aka The Pub Landlord - treats us to more of his new comedy creations. The Fast Show aside, sketch-based comedies tend to be hit and miss affairs. Mind you, this one certainly has more hits than BBC3's Horne and Cordless, and you can't blame Al for wanting a few nights away from his Pub Landlord.

Al Murray - the world through the bottom of a glass

All hail Al Murray: he hasn't flinched from populating his TV sketch show with folk as fruity as a gay Nazi in pink PVC - even if he has been accused of gay bashing, not least in a scathing Times review.

A hidden and unexpected gem in last year's schedules was The Convention Crasher, in which Justin Lee Collins did his best at being Louis Theroux, if Louis decided to hang out with Clowns and Magicians rather than Bloods and Crips. Surprisingly, this worked and gave JLC a little bit of cred, a little bit of "he's alright actually". So with Al Murray dipping his toe into the sharky waters of the sketch show (awful) ITV1 had room for a bit of light-hearted Friday chat. What does it tell us that Justin has been shovelled onto ITV2, on a Thursday? It means it's all back to default JLC: big beard, ironic retro t-shirt and shouting.

Bruce Dessau Review

At times it is so blatantly end-of-the-pier it seems like this kind of retro-humour must surely be being ironic and knowing. There is even a camp war reporter ("It's all kicking off. It's nuts") played by Mathew Horne, who, like Al Murray's current camp Nazi in his ITV1 sketch show is so over the top it is as if alternative comedy never happened.