Clive James

The first in LWT's new series of Alan Bennett plays, Me! I'm Afraid of Virginia Woolf, was one word too long in its tide but otherwise perfectly judged.

One has been kept from previous series of Some Mothers Do 'Ave 'Em (BBC1) by its awful title, but it is time to say what everybody else is saying - that the show is a must. Largely due to Michael Crawford's pertinacity in setting up his stunts and special effects, the slapstick is almost invariably funny.

Brucie could hardly lose. For one thing, he was appearing in a new format, so if anything went wrong he could always blame the format. Meanwhile, over on BBC1, Grayson goes on having to cope with the unpalatable fact that the audience knows exactly what to compare him with - Brucie.

There has been nothing like Cooper's verbal style since W.C. Fields. He talks in an impressionistic blur that makes Eddie Waring sound like Julie Andrews. [...] Dressed in his evening fez, the one with the sequins, Cooper barges elegantly about, avoiding ducks, clearly unaware that somewhere far away, among his millions of grateful viewers, at least one jaded television critic is in hysterics.

But this is still the most inventive pop series on television. To some extent Everett is too good, or at any rate too mature, for what is happening in current pop. A Brian Ferry number featured a lot of para-military prancing. Everett should need no reminding of the fact that flirting with fascism is fascism. But some of the other numbers have been wonderfully well staged, and there is a disco-dancing outfit called Hot Gossip whose female members will get you fantasisin' like mad.

'Going Straight' is the worthy successor of 'Porridge.' Norman Fletcher, still played by Ronnie Barker, is out of the nick and cleaving to the straight and narrer. His dialogue, like everybody else's in the show, is still supplied by Dick Clement and Ian La Frenais. Every line they write is at least twice as good as anything in the average West End play.

Not all trivia are bad, of course. Spike Milligan's Q7 (BBC2), which has now come to a lamented end, was probably the most trivial TV series of all time, but it had at least one sublimely inventive moment per episode. In the second-last instalment there was the body-builder's rosary (it had beads like cannon-balls) and in the last instalment there was a brilliantly funny interview with the Queen's chicken, featuring John Bluthal as Huw Weldon and Spike as the chickenmaster. Such flights of inspiration make the common run of light ent. look hopelessly ponderous.

The Best of Benny Hill (Thames) showed no more signs than usual of being significantly different from the worst. The trailer was all I could stand.

From Stanley Baxter we expect something more adventurous, but The Best of Stanley Baxter (LWT) unintentionally reinforced the impression that he is happiest as a female impersonator. Nor does he seem particularly concerned about which female he impersonates, as long as the costume gives him a chance to show off his legs.

The Two Ronnies (BBC1) tried hard. Apart from the regular Piggy Malone number - which never works, but gives the boys a chance to grope a scantily clad damsel - the show was reasonably diverting, and for a wonder it was not until the last item that the stars appeared in female attire.