Charlie Brooker

Also this week: Cold Feet (ITV1), which is whipping past at a bewildering rate, like a soap opera viewed from the side of a fairground ride. Worth watching to see how many additional storylines they can plough into before the whole thing collapses beneath the weight of its own angst.

His new C5 vehicle The Jerry Atrick Show is an endearingly shambolic attempt to showcase his talents. An uneasy mix of card tricks, gleefully puerile sketches, and stonefaced four-letter misanthropy, it's like an edition of the Paul Daniels Magic Show fronted by Howard Beale, the suicidal newsreader from the movie Network.

Finally, an order: watch Black Books, because it's funny. Sitting alone in a room, watching a blurry nth-generation copy of this week's opening episode on tape, I was shocked to hear myself laughing out loud twice within the first five minutes.

Once the shouting dies down (or your rising tinnitus drowns it out) it's easier to concentrate on the programme itself, which seems to have borrowed the premise from Butterflies: Dad's a dentist, Mum can't cook, and their teenage son's a half-witted layabout.