Armando Iannucci

It was the comic genius of Chris Morris and Armando Iannucci that was celebrated in six programmes on Radio 4 Extra commemorating the 20th anniversary of On the Hour, one of the sharpest comedies to satirise our love affair with the news media. I can hardly believe it's two decades since we heard Steve Coogan in his first incarnation as Alan Partridge and Chris Morris uttering surreal headlines with Paxmanesque urgency. "Cream is good for you if you're left-handed, according to a survey in 'Which Survey' magazine!" But the big surprise, especially given the gnat's attention span of the broadcast media, was how nothing had really dated. All the pomposities and absurdities were recognisable. Then, as now, there is much pleasure to be had from regional programme running orders. "Hopping lessons for Tim the amputee badger, and later, how news of the 17,000-megaton warhead that blew up France affects plans for a cycle path in Tarrogate city centre!"

It may be, in the age of social media and fragmenting news sources that our love affair with news will diminish. Our information addiction will perhaps, decline. So far, thankfully, there's no sign of it, but will future comedians ever tackle it so brilliantly?

Armando Iannucci: 'My 11-year-old thinks I'm cool'

The creator of The Thick of It tells Dan Sabbagh how being online has boosted his credibility and why he's gone beyond the BBC - despite being ready to man the barricades to save its digital channels.

Iannucci joins Baby Cow

Baby Cow Productions has appointed Armando Iannucci as its first Creative Director.

Armando Iannucci - the doctor of comedy

The man who's given the world Alan Partridge, The Day Today and The Thick Of It has been given an honorary doctorate from the University Of Glasgow. To celebrate this essentially meaningless triumph (he can't even write prescriptions, for heaven's sake) here's a look at some of his finest moments.

This isn't a mistake, this is my act!" Stewart Lee's self-deprecation is second nature and he remains as dry as the Atacama desert. Here, he happily tests the limits of the shambolic while pulling the rug from underneath what is now accepted as comedy. He sets out to do a musical comedy routine so as to win over the audience but can't resist a few nice barbs about Michael McIntyre's Comedy Roadshow. The risk is that he deconstructs comedy to the point of nihility - the interview scenes with Armando Iannucci are particularly grating and unnecessary - but Lee is such a pro he always let's the joke, in some form, get through.

This week saw the return of Stewart Lee's less-than-conventional stand-up show on BBC Two.

If you want to know who unconventional it is, let me put it this way - the show was meant to be about charity, but instead it consisted of Lee talking about crisps (he repeated the word "crisps" over 100 times during the show), and the programme had only four jokes which Lee deliberately deconstructed, giving advanced warning of when they were due to appear and explaining the jokes in detail.

This show is therefore not going to please everybody. Having said that I fail to understand why the BBC decided to broadcast the show at 23.20, where it would fail to get a larger audience. At least there is the iPlayer.

There were some changes to the format. Most of the sketches had gone. There was only one sketch at the end of the episode featuring Scottish comedian Arnold Brown. However, the original red button feature of the programme, in which Lee was "interviewed" by Armando Iannucci, now appears in the main show, breaking up the stand-up routines.

I am not sure whether this new format works. Maybe it is best to let it settle down for a little while, but I quite liked the original sketches, primarily because they featured comedians not usually seen on TV such as Simon Munnery and at one point Jerry Sadowitz as Jimmy Savile.

It is however a funny, interesting and above-all clever show. Lee makes you laugh and also think about the way comedy is presented. Just a shame it is on so late.

The former 41st Best Stand-Up Comedian ever (and current 12th) is back in Stoke Newington's Mildmay Club for the second outing of his Comedy Vehicle. If the first series was a test drive for Stewart Lee's suitability for television, this is him taking the wheel, ditching the rather unnecessary revving at the lights (we're talking about the sketches - this is a metaphor...) and taking us for a more assured drive through, er, Comedytown.

Even StewLee fanboys like tvBite will admit that the cut-aways in the first run didn't always hit the mark. Instead, in their place we have clips from an interview with Armando Iannucci, as found last year on the Red Button. So this second run is more stripped-down and, presumably, less expensive for the Beeb.

At the beginning, Lee explains that he intends to add more jokes to make himself more appealing to a wider public and to the BBC themselves ("They wanted me to put more jokes in as a condition of this being recommissioned."). The only joke is - there are no real jokes ("Not in this show"). They've actually allowed him to be more Stewart Lee-y; he's contrived to make himself less appealing to a wider public. So the pauses are longer, the repetitions more pronounced, the deconstruction more constant. He implores the audience to keep up and then scolds them for anticipating jokes or even laughing at them ("They're sycophants, basically. I despise them"). With the new 11.20pm time slot, it's as if the BBC are saying, "Go mad - no one'll mind."

Will you like it? Would you find a 29-minute routine about a man's grandfather eating crisps where the punchline is "the reconstruction process was time-consuming but not expensive" funny? If not, you may be best waiting for a ride in Russell Howard's Good News Party Limo, which is bigger and more comfortable, but ultimately leaves you feeling a bit cheap. This is still a metaphor.

"Alternative comedian" is a misused term, but it's one that can quite accurately be used to describe Stewart Lee. By his own admission, he doesn't really do jokes. As he starts up his Comedy for a second series, he's preoccupied by complaints about the absence of jokes in the first. So there's a deconstruction of his routine to ensure we get the comedy, and playful interludes where Armando Iannucci tries to teach him how to tell a gag. It's artful, intelligent comedy that doesn't rely on idle reminiscences for laughs, even though it mostly revolves around crisps. Lee toys brilliantly with the audience - both at home and at the Mildmay Club in north London - deploying awkward pauses so pregnant they should be drinking raspberry leaf tea.

Peter Capaldi talks Malcolm Tucker's future

When the third series of Armando Iannucci's political satire The Thick Of It ended in 2009, we feared it might be the end of the road for foul-mouthed government spin doctor Malcolm Tucker. Out of favour with a party which was subsequently chucked out of office, it was difficult to see how the rudest man in Scotland would fit back into series four.

US version of The Thick of It commissioned

The Thick of It creator Armando Iannucci has had a US version of the political satire commissioned by cable network HBO.