Bob Mortimer

Johnny Vegas 'wants Shooting Stars return'

Johnny Vegas has revealed that he is keen to reunite with Shooting Stars hosts Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer.

Vic 'n Bob get a few bob less

Comics Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer have taken a pay cut worth tens of thousands of pounds to help the BBC slash costs.

Jack Dee has got what must be the easiest gig in TV at the moment. Turn up, scowl, try not to laugh. Drinks and nibbles in the green room afterwards. Car home. Thanks very much.

Meanwhile, new panelist Angelos Epithemiou is turning out to be quite a hit with his cross-eyed squint at these celebrity shenanigans. "It's all right but it's not my sort of humour," he offers tonight. You might well agree. Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer's surreal nonsense - like a hallucinogenic Morecambe and Wise - has always been an acquired taste and you either get it or you don't.

Shooting Stars is back! Show us the scores, George Dawes! Isn't that great news? I think so. As always with Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer's surreal quiz show (Tuesday, BBC Two), I found about a third of it hilarious, another third perfectly acceptable, and the final third far too weird to comprehend for even a moment. Aside from last year's Christmas Special, the show has been away since 2002. Could it really have been so long? And how would it have aged?

Um, fine. I think. Or maybe it has just aged at the same speed as I have. Vic and Bob have become less like your weirdo neighbours and more like a pair of creepy old uncles, which suits them very well. Bob suddenly seems to bear a startling resemblance to Martin Freeman, although I suppose that might also have been the case last time around, and we just wouldn't have known. Ulrikakaka is back, and Matt Lucas, incredibly, is too. Does anybody know what has happened to Mark Lamarr? Is he OK? They've given us Jack Dee instead ("a sweaty moccasin!" said Vic), which seems perfectly respectable, and also a sort of delivery-man character comic, who might be a regular feature.

In part, I suppose, Shooting Stars was such fun because it was like meeting up with some old friends and hearing them tell all the same old jokes. Will new audiences find them funny, too? Or will they just be baffled and a little scared, like Christine Bleakley was when Vic started rubbing his thighs? Not a clue. Time will tell. I'd quite like to see them hit each other with frying pans in the next episode, though. I've missed that.

Eranu! If the very sound sends giddy shivers down your surrealist spine (an exoskeleton dripping with melting clocks) then the all-old, all-new Shooting Stars would have hit your spot.
If, on the other hand, Eranu! provokes only a baffled shrug, then tuning in to this curiously pointless revival wouldn't have enlightened you as to why it's been exhumed from TV's comedy grave.

It no surprise Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer couldn't let Shooting Stars lie. It was the last hit from the one-time gods of the off-the-wall sketch show and I'll forgive a lot for all the happy times that were inspired by The Man With The Stick.

Add in the fact that Vic had become little more than a support act in the Nancy Sorrell-desperate-for-fame game and Bob was reduced to guest slots on Big Brother's Little Brother, and the chance to reboot Shooting Stars must have seemed like manna from heaven.

But they might as well have screened a repeat because Shooting Stars 2009 was the same as it ever was but not in a good way. It was like watching ageing rock stars who'd once filled stadiums still hacking out the old tunes in a grotty backstreet club. Vic and Bob had turned into their own tribute act but the dodgy stuff they once got away with by the skin of their charm now feels rather creepy.

Back in the day, Vic could carry off the thigh-rubbing perving over female guests but now having him waft his bum crack under the understandably wrinkled nose of Christine Bleakley from The One Show made him look like a candidate for the Sex Offenders Register.

There were laughs but they were drawn from comfy familiarity, not edgy wit. Vic's club singer, riffing out an impromptu chorus of Beyonce's Single Ladies, is still good value.

And Matt Lucas - an unknown in the original but now an unofficial guest star - has a baby-suited ball as scores-on-the-doors George Dawes (offspring of Marjorie?).

But the bad things about Shooting Stars, not least the unforgivable perpetuation of Ulrika-ka-ka Jonsson, made this non-revamp feel as stale as yesterday's droppings from the Dove From Above. They really, really, should have let it lie.

Shooting Stars will continue to polarise opinion more than any other show on television. Larry Hagman appeared on it once as a guest and said afterwards, "I've done some loony shows in my time..." For many viewers, this is the ultimate crazed panel show exploding with madcap, surreal humour. Others just find it irritatingly daft. The new series is back by popular demand, hosted by Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer, with Jack Dee and Ulrika Jonsson as team captains and Matt Lucas - still dressed as a baby - keeping the scores. Given the frantic energy and decibel level, it benefits enormously from the mournful presence of Jack Dee and his trademark scowl. But the highlight of the evening is Dan Skinner in the guise of a rancid Greek burger bar owner called Angelos Epithemious, who steals the show with a fully formed character and the deadest of deadpan comic performances.

Vic, Bob and George Dawes are back, older but definitely no wiser. This opener to the new series of the gloriously daft quiz has Matt Lucas singing about old people's homes, Bob Mortimer 'revealing' the name of Amy Winehouse's favourite Tube station, DJ Ironik failing to remember the breed of his dog and Christine Bleakley enduring Vic's thigh-rubbing. Plus the Dove From Above is back, as is Ulrika-kaka (pitted against other team captain Jack Dee). Wednesday nights just got a whole lot funnier.

After a one-off Christmas special, someone had the bright idea of bringing back Shooting Stars for a new series. It was an odd decision, as this surreal, not-a-panel-game feels threadbare and tired. Sadly, time has not been kind. Team captains Jack Dee and Ulrika Jonsson do their best, but they don't have much to work with. The guests, particularly The One Show's Christine Bleakley, are game and do their best but it's a slog. Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer still have their moments, of course; Reeves's impressions of an unintelligible club singer are still funny; and it's good to see Matt Lucas again as the excitable big baby George Dawes. At least he looks like he's having fun. But generally the humour is too scatological and the madness that characterised Shooting Stars in its heyday and which made the show feel fresh and unlike anything else, now feels forced.

Back in 1993, Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer cornered the market in surreal self-indulgence with their infectious take on the celebrity panel show. After a one-off special last December to mark its 15th anniversary, Shooting Stars is back again with a full series and a mix of old and new faces.

In the special, Jack Dee took over the mantle of grumpy team captain as first patented by Mark Lamarr and he returns once more opposite Ulrika Jonsson. Surprisingly perhaps, given that his own star has now eclipsed the hosts, Matt Lucas is back behind his drum kit as George Dawes with the scores.

The new, regular addition to this series is a character called Angelos Epithemiou, who's introduced as an ordinary member of the public and burger-van owner but, in reality, is comedian Dan Skinner.

Otherwise, the familiar catchphrases are dusted off, the Dove From Above flies again and The One Show's Christine Bleakley draws the short straw this week as the object of Vic Reeves' disturbing attentions.

I'll admit it. There was a point when I didn't quite 'get' ­Shooting Stars. There were so many questions. Why was a man who looks like a pickled walnut dressed as a baby? And why was he playing the drums? Why were they asking: "True or false: Bill Cosby is the world's first black man?" And why was the answer false, but only because the correct answer was "Sidney Poitier"? Why did the hosts - Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer - occasionally hit each other with comedy homemade ­objects, and make noises ­resembling a llama giving birth, as if they were talking? Just what was Mark Lamarr?

Then I saw an episode where they made Ulrika Jonsson stand in the centre of the stage and swung a stuffed bear at her. On a rope. From the ceiling. Shooting Stars made no sense but once you mentally tuned in, it was brilliant - a panel show that took surrealist comedy mainstream for the first time since Monty Python. And now, 12 years after disappearing from terrestrial TV, it's ba-ba-back. With Ulrika-ka-ka... you get the point. So, is it as good as ever?

Well, yes, because beyond the bizarre rounds (tonight: who's disguised as Hitler?), surreal questions ("name someone with a face") and off-beat skits (what Care Home: The Musical would be like), you remember the real ­reason for Shooting Stars has always been satirical. The clue's in the double-edged ­title, for the hard of thinking.

Hence, Ulrika - the kind of person who'd make love to herself and sell the kiss-and-tell to a tabloid - remains as target practice as a team captain ("You're writing a book, aren't you?" says Bob Mortimer. "The first thing you need is a pen. And some ideas. Could come together.").

But far better than the celeb guests who "got" Shooting Stars, were the ones that really didn't. Step ­forward ­tonight's guest, DJ Ironic. He dresses all in black, wears shades in the studio, has a small fluffy toy on the desk he calls his mini-me, and is called DJ Ironic. I mean, could he be any more of a tosser? Oh wait, yes. Because he spells his name DJ Ironik. THAT'S how ironic he is: incorrect, phonetic spelling. He may as well add a question mark at the end and be done with it

But here is the thing: celebrity satire, especially with people like DJ Impossibly Massive Dickhead, is all too obvious. Slugging them with surrealism they aren't smart enough to get or quick enough to parry is the sucker-punch they never saw ­coming, and is very funny indeed.

Of course, there is a slight hitch to all this celeb-baiting fun. Namely, Vic Reeves's appearance on I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here, which could have made this the equivalent of Angus Deayton on Have I Got News for You trying to be all ­clever-clever about the excess of celebrity after a night with call-girls and Colombian bam-bam.

But somehow it doesn't - because Shooting Stars never took itself seriously in the first place. Looking silly was ­always the point.