Alexander Armstrong

They don't make eggheads like they used to. Alexander Armstrong wore his best cosmetic slaphead with distracting ginger furze in Micro Men, the story of Clive Sinclair's race with his former colleague Chris Curry (Martin Freeman) to develop the personal computer in Cambridge. There was a wilfully mischievous tone to Tony Saint's drama, which spanned the late-1970s to mid-1980s: Armstrong as Sinclair was an erratic mix of geeky idealist and corporate tyrant. One minute he would be discussing the finer points of circuitry, the next throwing a phone through a window.

Sinclair was determined to take personal computing to new frontiers: "A man's reach should exceed his grasp - or what's a heaven for?", he said, quoting Browning. But he was also shown to be a control freak, ironically, as the thing he most resented in the early days was the "Stalinist" stranglehold on his company of the National Enterprise Board. Curry jumped ship from Sinclair after Sinclair refused to let him work on computers, insisting he focus instead on Sinclair's masterplan to develop a "personalised motor vehicle".

The early personal computer was quintessentially British: amateurish, user-unfriendly and unbecoming, but also a stunning technical achievement rooted in boffinry. Once upon a time, and not so long ago, the idea of having a personal computer seemed astonishing. Saint's drama included old episodes of John Craven's Newsround and clunky TV computer shows to show how far our expectations, and technology, had progressed in such a short space of time. Sinclair began as the hare, with the ZX80, ZX81 and later the Spectrum capturing the public imagination - although he was initially annoyed that people were more keen to play games on computers than anything else.

Armstrong presented Sinclair as occasionally regretful that Curry had left him to set up Acorn Computers, but his ambition to do things for magically cheap figures - £99 for a personal computer - soon displaced wistfulness. But even the big bucks couldn't extinguish the spirit of invention and innovation, which pinged as brightly as the green neon of the early computer. The conflict in Micro Men wasn't just between Sinclair and Curry, it was between egg-headery and profit; both men had teams of impressively long-haired nerds.

Armstrong caught Sinclair's weird diffidence perfectly. Assailed by a bevy of beauties at a Mensa conference, he banged on about his ambition to put the words of every book ever written on to something the size of a sugar cube. One of the women said it was nice to put his hands on something big once in a while. He nodded, as if she were making another scientific point, and then actually got what she was suggesting and his smile widened for a millisecond.

Sinclair and Curry were ultimately thrown into competition to supply the BBC with a computer system - which, several hundred sleepless nights and many kebabs later, Acorn won. (At Sinclair HQ, another telephone was thrown.) Home computers were all over the shops, but almost as quickly Sinclair and Curry were over-reaching themselves; Sinclair by trying to drive himself upmarket (he raged that he did not want to be known as "the man who bought you Jet Set F***ing Willy"). Acorn tried to go downmarket. They were both out of step. The consumer had moved on to the first CD players.

Sinclair emerged the more moderately triumphant when he swung past Curry late one night on one of his absurd C5 vehicles: his formal attire, his ugly machine and his slap-headedness all combining to produce an immediate visual gag. An absurd fight broke out between the rival boffins in their former local with scrappy punches and feeble attempts to concuss with newspapers. Reconciled afterwards, Sinclair told Curry that he was looking into the possibility of the flying car. Both companies were sold on, but the eggheads were not sunk.

Though Micro Men won't be winning any Baftas for Best Make-Up - Alexander Armstrong's slaphead looked like it had been dabbed on in the dark - this was a terrifically entertaining romp down memory-stick lane to the days when computers were still crazy, far-out inventions, not a fixture in every home. 'Jesus - it's like trying to read Braille through a pair of gardening gloves,' was the colourful verdict on one early prototype.

Armstrong had a ball as Sir Clive Sinclair, crackpot boffin behind the ZX80 and a whole raft of equally unreliable gizmos, while Martin Freeman provided the perfect foil as Chris Curry, head of Acorn. While Acorn's products lacked the style and pizzazz of Sinclair's output, they did have the benefit of working for more than a week. By telling the story of these two pioneers - first collaborators and later rivals - Micro Men provided a hilarious insight into recent history. We were in the 1980s but it might as well have been the Dark Ages, so much has changed.

An affectionate telling of the struggle for the home computer market in Britain in the 1980s. The drama is seen through the personalities of classic egghead Sir Clive Sinclair (Alexander Armstrong) and his one-time colleague and friend Chris Curry (Martin Freeman), who originally championed the idea of a micro computer but left Sinclair Radionics when Sinclair sneered at the concept. Sinclair soon realised that computers made more sense than the electric cars he was developing and so the two went head-to-head in the market, with Sinclair's Spectrum up against Curry's BBC Micro. Early on Sinclair says that "inventors are obliged to dream", but the film shows the business world is an unforgiving place.

If you're British and over 30, try and watch Micro Men. It's the story of computers in the 80s, the days when Britain ruled the computing world, a nostalgia trip to make Siralan weep into the top of his game. Alexander Armstrong proves that he's way too good for daily quiz shows in the role of genius inventor and sort-of-idiot Clive Sinclair who ends up competing against his former colleague Chris Curry, a role that's perfectly programmed for the as-ever understated Martin Freeman, for the nascent home PC market. Period details are piled so high that they almost take detract from the main characters, but that's a minor quibble in a really good drama. Oh, and on top of all that it also features a cameo from extremely talented and lovely actress Nicola Harrison.

BBC lines up spoof web review

Comedians Alexander Armstrong and Ben Miller have revived their cultural critic characters Craig and Martin for a spoof online review show for the BBC.

Guest interview: Stuart Maconie

Regular Guest Host Alexander Armstrong is hosting tonight's show, so we decided to interview Have I Got News For You first-timer Stuart Maconie instead.

BBC axes Mutual Friends

BBC1 has axed primetime comedy-drama Mutual Friends after just one series.

The Hat Trick show, penned by Anil Gupta and Richard Pinto, was initially planned as a one-off about male friendship featuring comedians Ben Miller and Alexander Armstrong but was later commissioned for a 6 x 60-minute series.

Have I Got News internet spin-off to bridge TV run

Alexander Armstrong is to front a fortnightly web spin-off of Have I Got News For You that will bridge the gap between the next two series of the satirical BBC1 quiz.

Mutual Friends, may not be a ratings hit but I'm enjoying the talents of the two stars - the brilliant Marc Warren and the scene-stealing Alexander Armstrong. It manages to be hilariously funny and quite deep and serious in places.

Before its first screening, critics were comparing it to ITV1's Cold Feet, but Mutual Friends does have its own engrossing style and the story is very different. Warren and Armstrong bounce off each other brilliantly while there's good support from an ensemble cast including Emily Joyce as Martin's boss and Sarah Alexander.

Being very easy to watch and surprisingly very funny, it's the kind of drama only us Brits could achieve with a good mix of proper drama and human, normal characters. The only possible flaw is that I've yet to warm to Keeley Hawes's character.

This curious drama with occasional laughs is still struggling to find its feet and its identity, something that isn't helped by its underwritten, shallow and irritating female characters. This isn't really their fault, because they have almost nothing to do except whine, cling or just generally be pointless and annoying.

Poor Sarah Alexander in particular is saddled with a deadly role as Liz, ex-girlfriend of tedious lothario Patrick (Alexander Armstrong). One minute she's quite sane and sensible, the next she's behaving like a halfwit. Things are still being kept together by Marc Warren as Martin, the hopeless cuckold whose desperate attempts to win back the affections of wife Jen (Keeley Hawes) keep hitting the rocks.