Bill Bailey (I)

One good thing that came out of Bill Bailey's departure from Never Mind The Buzzcocks last year was the fact it has allowed him to concentrate on live work. This whimsical musical comedy show, recorded at Wembley in 2007, is proof of what a treat he is on his own: a set of short and devilishly sweet comic songs and stand-up that takes in everything from Immanuel Kant to a scat-jazz version of the Imperial March from Star Wars.

The line-up seems to change as often as the cast of your average soap but somehow this comedy music panel game has endured. Since the show's inception in 1996, Mark Lamarr and Simon Amstell have had spells as presenter, and Sean Hughes and Bill Bailey have both taken the role of regular team captain. Only Phill Jupitus has lasted the distance. Even the tone of the show has changed over the years - particularly after Amstell took over presenting duties. He put his own quirky, irreverent and somewhat juvenile mark on the programme and when team captain Bailey quit last year he referred to the guests as "gormless indie twerps". Now Noel Fielding (of The Mighty Boosh fame) will take the captain's seat opposite Jupitus, and Amstell will be replaced by guest presenters (beginning tonight with Gavin & Stacey's James Corden). Whether the show will survive after such a flurry of changes remains to be seen. Although Buzzcocks has long since left the illusion of improvisation behind, it has certainly become much "trendier" in recent years and, thanks mostly to the wit of Amstell and Jupitus, it has remained entertaining. Now one must hope that Jupitus can carry on that tradition alone. Joining the teams this week are the potentially dull Tom Clarke of indie band The Enemy and singer Paloma Faith but fortunately actor/comedians Ben Miller and Janeane Garofalo should help keep the proceedings lively.

No Humph, no Samantha, but plenty of quality smut

After a decent interval following the death of Humphrey Lyttelton a year ago, I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue returned with a knowing wink and a helpless giggle. It's taken three men to replace the great man, and on Monday Stephen Fry was in the Humph seat. (He'll rotate with Rob Brydon and Jack Dee, though I'd like to have seen Bill Bailey given a shot, too.)

There was a fear that reconvening without the show's spiritual leader might be like The Beatles re-forming after John Lennon died. But though Fry was berated in some quarters after his debut, the essence of the complaints was that he's not Lyttelton. He probably can't play the trumpet, either.

The Lyttelton lacuna apart, it was business as usual, with the innuendo quotient maintained at its traditionally ferocious level. The lovely Samantha has been given a rest (for newcomers, she's the non-existent scorer) in favour of "the rippling Sven", who's had the builders round: "Whenever they ask for cheese and chutney, he always palms them off with relish."

As proven by this amiable documentary, hallowed practitioners of the musical spoof include acts as diverse as Bill Bailey, The Two Ronnies, Tom Lehrer, Monty Python and Victoria Wood, who's breathlessly funny Let's Do It is one of the greatest comedy songs ever written, and I'll mud-wrestle anyone who says otherwise.

All of which poses the question: why can't all channels be as good as this?

Bill Bailey's Remarkable Guide to the Orchestra

It's a waste to have the orchestra just beefing up Bailey's mildly amusing songs. Far better when the instruments are foregrounded; when music (Rossini; the EastEnders theme) is deconstructed to comic effect, and the orchestra provides the punchlines. Sometimes that's difficult - comic timing is complicated when 72 musicians are involved. But elsewhere, it's sublime, as stately form meets daft content, and Bailey runs riot in the candy shop of his musical imagination. A four-man performance of Saint-Saëns' The Swan on Alpine cow bells shows the giddy heights of pleasure to which this curious collaboration might yet aspire.

Bill Bailey to leave Never Mind the Buzzcocks

A news article announcing that comedian Bill Bailey was leaving the music panel show after 11 series.

The Museum of Curiosity, Radio 4

Doesn't a little bit of Brian Blessed go an awfully long way? I thought of this whenever he opened his mouth on Radio 4's new, well, I suppose strictly speaking it's comedy, because it goes out at 6.30, but 'Radio 4's new comedy show' doesn't quite seem to fit. How does one describe The Museum of Curiosity? It's got guests; it has two hosts, Bill Bailey and John Lloyd, and occasionally, laughs.

Apart from Brian Blessed, of whom I have now had a sufficiency that will last me the rest of my days, the show more or less worked. Eccentricity is fine by me, as long as it's genuinely amusing. And hearing about Sean Lock's time as a goatherder - or Richard Fortey's experience of being stung by a giant Chinese hornet, or his story about the womanising museum curator who filed snippings of pubic hair from every woman he slept with - help pass the time pleasantly enough.

Why I Hate...Never Mind the Buzzcocks

Never Mind the Buzzcocks has been masquerading as comedy for more than ten years, and a brow-furrowing 21 series. They'd be better off sticking Phill Jupitus and Bill Bailey on a sofa with a couple of pints and letting them discuss 30 minutes of archive pop videos. That's where the value of the show is. Everything else is fulfilling some desperate criteria to appeal to the 15-25 demographic, while forgetting about what actually makes good telly.

There was a bad moment in the first episode of this series when it seemed as if Black Books might have lost its footing. It was loud and slapstick and too crude to be funny. But now it is right back on form, and this is one of the funniest episodes yet. Manny (Bill Bailey) places a bet on the Grand National, which turns Bernard (Dylan Moran) into a chronic gambler. Once again, it is the inmates against the world. For all that they torment each other, their pooled inadequacies act as a bulwark against customers, debt collectors - and just about everyone else.

After last week's episode, which worked hard for its laughter, tonight's is a far more relaxed and subtle affair. Bernard (Dylan Moran) and Manny (Bill Bailey) decide to write a children's book. Bernard's first attempt at entertaining four to six-year-olds consists of a 1,300-page saga about the relationship between an academic who survived the Stalinist purges and a daughter whose long and bitter marriage is collapsing. "You should never talk down to children," he says. The episode plays to one of the great strengths of the series - the antagonistic co-dependence that binds the main characters together. It is a wonderful return to form.