Anna Lowman

Like many, it took me a while to get into The Mighty Boosh, but now I'm one of those people that gets into tetchy arguments while defending it against charges of gross hipsterism. So as a committed fan, I was fascinated to see what Noel Fielding's solo project, Channel 4′s Luxury Comedy, would be like...

Despite my love for Noel's work with Julian Barratt, I have to say I approached his new sketch show with a little trepidation. What really grabbed me about the Boosh wasn't the surreal characters and lo-fi, hand-made visuals, it was just Noel and Julian sat on a bench bickering like an old married couple. I embraced the oddness, but it was the traditional double-act stuff that grounded the show.

From the publicity, though, Noel Fielding's Luxury Comedy appeared to be 100% surreal characters and lo-fi, hand-made visuals. They were always Noel's domain - he's had several art exhibitions around London - and without his verbal sparring partner, it seemed that 'grounding the show' was about as far from his mind as observational skits about aeroplane food.

After the first episode, I was left feeling a little flat. I'd chuckled, and the show did indeed look great thanks to the fantastic hand-painted sets and costumes, but the sketches didn't seem to hang together particularly well, and I didn't feel I'd quite got a handle on what Noel was trying to achieve yet.

Thank goodness I followed my own advice and gave a new comedy series a second chance then, as the second episode was a whole lot more enjoyable. Themed around art - with appearances from Andy Warhol and discussions about whether dressing up as a 'fireman baby' is a concept or a joke - the second episode had a satisfying cohesion that was lacking from the first. Is Noel Fielding's Luxury Comedy laugh out loud funny? No. Is it interesting, cleverer than it likes to make out and, most importantly, going somewhere? Looks that way...

When the Brockman family first appeared, the thing that made Outnumbered so special was the apparent spontaneity of the then very, very young children. Over the past few years, the child actors have clearly become a lot more self-aware, and while it's always been enjoyable, it's also been a bit of a bumpy transition.

This Christmas (Eve) special, however, was one of the best episodes I've seen in ages. Putting the emphasis of this comedy-drama squarely on the drama, there were some lovely moments, in particular the usually foot-in-mouth merchant Ben knowing exactly what to say to a man feeling rather lonely this Christmas. I thought Outnumbered had run its course; this episode suggests that doesn't have to be the case.

One of the first proper Christmas specials to be shown this year was The Bleak Old Shop Of Stuff - a television "reimagining" of writer Mark Evans's BBC Radio 4 comedy series Bleak Expectations. Despite being totally up my street, I've never properly caught this Dickensian spoof in its audio form, but with the likes of Stephen Fry and Robert Webb on board, I wasn't about to miss the TV version.

And I tell you want, it's a hell of lot weirder than I thought it would be. When Jedrington Secret-Past (Webb) closes up shop for the festive period, his little daughter gives him a Jam Spaniel (a tiny dog-shaped jam roly poly pudding...) as a Christmas present, and when he goes off to get ingredients for the Christmas feast, he's given a brace of "Tinsel-Tits".

Odd. But really good. This was silly stuff that was both broad and surreal and there were some brilliant cameos - especially from the wonderful Celia Imrie.

We all know that Charlie Brooker is one hell of a columnist and critic, but he's also barely put a foot wrong when it comes to fiction. Sitcom Nathan Barley - which satirised Hoxton media twits - was not, it's fair to say, a critical success, but one of the main complaints was that it satirised something that was already out of date. If anything, it now feels ahead of its time; I for one would love to see what Ashcroft makes of the Twitterati.

Dead Set (zombies in the Big Brother house) fared rather better, and now there's The National Anthem, the first of a three part mini-series of Twilight Zone-inspired sci-fi satires called Black Mirror. This has been hugely lauded, and rightly so - well cast, well written and with a premise to make your stomach turn, it was something genuinely different from the genuinely different mind of Mr Brooker.

There were a few funny lines along the way (I loved the TV news editor telling his graphics guys to "keep it functional, no Peppa Pig") but this was no comedy; indeed it was played dead straight by the excellent cast which included Rory Kinnear, Lindsay Duncan and Tom Goodman-Hill. And the reaction to the bizarre ransom demand on social networks, on TV and in homes around the country was pitched perfectly - outrage, disgust, jokes and, ultimately, morbid fascination.

If anything, it was all too real for 45 minutes to carry off the "denouement", shall we call it. Every other element of this drama was so realistic that for the PM to actually go through with it for the sake of public opinion...? It was a bit too much to take, in a couple of senses. But in the main, The National Anthem is to be applauded: brave, well-made, and it made its point clearly, concisely and very creatively.

I really loved it. I know, a Sky One comedy! (It's fine, we're all telly snobs here.) Darren Boyd has been around for years - you'll know his face, if not the name, from Green Wing and Whites - but I have to say I've never taken much notice of him before. But I'm happy to say that he's genuinely brilliant here as an under-achieving divorcee dad Tim who stumbls into a job with MI5. His pious, genius son is a great character, and Horrible Histories' Matthew Baynton is really funny and very well cast as Tim's weird best friend.

It has to be said that elements of this felt familiar - I suspect writer/creator Simeon Goulden is a big Spaced fan, and the scene in which Tim disrupts the entrance exam is pure Men In Black. But none of that lessened my enjoyment - Goulden is borrowing from the best there, after all - and I was chuckling throughout. Give it a go.

One new panel show that is actually championing those very same creative comedians that are so loved on the live circuit is E4′s Show & Tell. Presented by Chris Addison, it simply invites comics to bring a few things in and talk about them in a humourous way - what's unusual is that the comics aren't the familiar shiny-suit, observational types or one-liner merchants that we're used to seeing on TV.

Take last week's line-up: Maeve Higgins, Nick Helm and Elis James. Excellent comedians, but hardly household names - and for this, the show is to be applauded. Because they're great! Charming, eloquent and all thoroughly deserving of this airtime, and each contributing to a genuinely lovely show that takes its time. Let's hope for a re-commission.

Much, much more heart-warming and just plain funnier than Mock the Week, I'd say - is BBC One's Would I Lie To You?. The show gets a lovely mix of guests but at its core is the genius idea of pitting David Mitchell and Lee Mack against each other as team captains. The highbrow vs lowbrow, South vs North dynamic is endlessly entertaining, and they are so quick, so sharp. I laugh out loud every week.

And in this latest series in particular, the producers seem perfectly happy to throw in a few lies per episode that are so utterly unbelievable that the guest can just have fun with it without being shackled by the need to make it sound plausible. A well-told, utterly convincing lie is impressive; a ridiculous one can be hilarious. Enter the supreme David O'Doherty, charged with persuading the opposing team that he is seeing a hypno-therapist to get over his addiction to hypno-therapists. THIS, ladies and gentlemen, is entertainment...

I've always been a Wossy supporter. Friday Night... was great fun, and his Saturday morning Radio 2 show was superb until Sachsgate meant the Beeb stopped it going out live. What's the point if there isn't that little element of danger? Boring. So I'm very glad indeed he's back on the telly - but Jonathan Ross on ITV1? It feels odd, doesn't it? Although he does seem to enjoy saying "we'll be back after these messages", like he's some American TV anchor from the 1950s...

There are some superficial changes to the format (neither the 4 Poofs nor their piano have made it to ITV) but basically this is the same Jonathan Ross chat show we're used to, and if you liked it before and can stand the adverts, you'll still like it. He was funny, he made a few slightly naughty comments, he fawned over his guests. It was business as usual. Welcome back.

Much like Peep Show, it's understandable that some people assume that the stars of gross-out-but-sometimes-oddly-sweet teen sitcom The Inbetweeners - Simon Bird, Joe Thomas, James Buckley and Blake Harrison - actually wrote the show, as they seem to fit their characters so well. Not so, however - that honour belongs to (Damon Beesley and Iain Morris) but Bird and Thomas are in fact pretty experienced comedy writers, having performed (and impressed) at the Edinburgh Fringe with their show The Meeting, created with award-winning stand-up comic Jonny Sweet.

For Chickens, these three have got back together and produced a properly entertaining half hour pilot in which they play the only three men left in a pretty Heart-of-England village during the First World War. They each have their reasons for staying behind: Cecil (Bird) isn't allowed in the army on account of his flat feet, teacher George (Thomas) is a conscientious objector and Bert (Sweet)... well he just finds it difficult to remember there's a war on, what with all the girls (and women, and old ladies) of the village distracting him the whole time.

There was an element of farce about this - Cecil ends up accidentally peeing on a tree planted in remembrance of a dead soldier - but as with so many sitcoms, Chickens actually works best when it's just the three leads chatting and bickering. Jonny Sweet, I think, pretty much steals the show. As a self-centred lothario, he's simultaneously incredibly creepy and massively watchable - here, as with his stand-up, it's his delivery that makes him so much fun. All the best comics can make an apparently simple word sound hilarious and Sweet is no different. Just take a listen to how he says the word 'crow'.

ITV's new stand-up comedy competition Show Me The Funny is quite an odd beast. The idea of having comedians compete X Factor style is fair enough - and has been done before - but this Jason Manford-fronted show also involves the contestants doing tasks...

Manford: "I'm going to split you into pairs, and send you off with a list of things to find and people to see." What?! "And whoever wins will get to determine the running order for this big gig." Oh, I see! No, still what?! Bizarre. The notion is that helping out at a hair salon or setting up a blind date will help the comics get to know the people of the town they're gigging in, and in turn help them write some new material. We'll skip over the fact that lots of decent comedians actively avoid doing "town-specific" stuff as it's kinda cliche...

The tasks take up half of the programme, meaning Show Me The Funny is, in fact, what you find yourself shouting at the screen. There are certainly talented comedians involved - I've seen a couple of them live, and Stuart Goldsmith in particular is brilliant - but you don't get to see enough of their acts to make up your own mind.