Daniel Rigby

Radio Times review

Stephen Fry and Daniel Rigby return for a new series of the gay equine epistolary romance, set in the Napoleonic War. Fry's hearty voice is perfect for the French stallion Marengo, while Rigby is the more camp, hysteria-prone English steed Copenhagen.

Introduced by Tamsin Greig, this week's letters include the famous words of Abba "at Waterloo, Napoleon did surrender" spoken with knowing deadpan by Daniel Rigby, who shot to fame when he beat both Matt Smith and Benedict Cumberbatch for the 2011 best actor Bafta for his role as Eric Morecambe in the BBC drama Eric and Ernie, but is now playing the geeky Simon in the BT advertisements!

The second episode of David Walliams' easy going comedy, bringing together an ensemble of recognisable faces, including Catherine Tate as the new, 'glamorous but knows it' French teacher. That man from Ashes to Ashes (Philip Gleinster), who plays the moronic 'geezer' of a P.E. teacher. That guy from the BT adverts and Black Mirror (Daniel Rigby), as the 'real music' fanatic, and Rising Damp star, Frances de la Tour, in fine form as the hilarious drunkard of a headmistress.

Each episode plays out like a short film, with ever predictable plot twists, low points and resolution. Textbook stuff. However this is done with an unexpected charm and warmth, simply due to the character stereotypes and all of their cringe-worthy glory. This combined with the staffroom perspective is a fairly original mix, matched only by Chris Lilley's Summer Heights High (which if you haven't watched I strongly recommend).

Whether this form will get repetitive is still up to question however, as there's only so many times you can watch a short There's Something About Mary.

So if you're gouging your own eyes at the thought of having to sit through another moody police drama (even writing this fills me with dread), and long for something as light and easy as angels delight while watching Sesame Street, then tune in to BBC One at 9.

It's encouraging to see that David Walliams isn't above taking a pop at Britain's Got Talent. This week French teacher Miss Postern (Catherine Tate) decides to hold a charity talent contest for the teachers - to prove how wacky and zany she imagines she is.

It's a heaven-sent opportunity for love-struck chemistry teacher Mr Church (Walliams) to get closer to her with a duet. But as Walliams gets his oboe out, they face stiff competition from Philip Glenister's seedy gym teacher Trevor Gunn.

Big School succeeds because the cast is more than capable of ­spinning comedy gold out of some very crude elements.

Frances de La Tour as headmistress Miss Baron is magnificent tonight on the subject of Pudsey Bear. And Daniel Rigby's po-faced music teacher Mr Martin finally gets a chance to shine.

Best line of tonight's episode? It has to be Miss Postern's description of John Lennon as "one of the main ones of The Beatles".

I severely wanted to like Big School, if only to celebrate on the BBC's behalf their having launched two successful comedies in a row, the other of course continuing to be the sublime Family Tree. If so, it would have represented an almost unique triumph (yes, yes, but I've consulted my inner pedant and he reluctantly allows this) after a couple of years of embarrassing twock.

But I didn't. Despite a highly promising cast - Philip Glenister, showing he can "do" comedy; Daniel Rigby (the "annoying one" off the BT Broadband ads) showing he can actually "do" real acting, and rather good he is; the wonder that is Frances de la Tour, somehow growing increasingly sexy with age; Joanna Scanlan (the sublime Terri from The Thick of It) - it remained stubbornly written by and starring David Walliams, with all that entails.

Which is to say: too occasional mini-smiles leavening a fast succession of stereotypes, interrupted by a lazy cliche or three, shot through with embarrassing pieces of slapstick, most cringeworthy of which was the ancient teacher Mr Hubble going into an occupied classroom and opening his flies ("the loos used to be here..."). That was the savage low point; the highs were any scene involving De la Tour as the humourless alcoholic headmistress. This cast - and did I mention Catherine Tate? - surely deserves more subtle writing. But Walliams seemingly can't think but in stereotypes - I'm sure you remember even though I'm trying to forget the vile Little Britain, written in and somehow encapsulating the dark, dying days of New Labour.

Walliams has said it's "slightly subtler than Little Britain"; not the biggest of asks. So all the pupils - count them: all - are badly behaved, rude and street-smart. Mr Church, Walliams's character, drives an Austin Allegro, ho ho, and listens to Phil Collins, hoo ha. Alan Partridge it ain't.

I might watch another episode, if only because openers are notoriously ham-fisted, and there's a sparrow-flicker of interest over the Glenister/Tate/Walliams love triangle. But at this rate Walliams is in danger of being remembered only for the 167th fastest crossing of the Channel. Which would be no bad thing.

From Please Sir! to Jack Whitehall's Bad Education, schools are a magnet for the sitcom gang.

The latest to answer the ringing of the bell is David Walliams, taking half-term break from teasing Simon Cowell to play lovestruck chemistry teacher Keith Church.

The object of the bumbling Keith's affections is la belle Miss Postern (Catherine Tate), the flame-haired new French teacher who doesn't actually know much French.

With Philip Glenister as a randy PE teacher, Frances de la Tour as a mean headteacher, Joanna Scanlan as a lesbian drama teacher and a scandalously under-used Daniel Rigby, the cast is top-notch - even if the jokes are a little old school.

The public disembowelling of The Wright Way will have put a few comic heavyweights on alert about upcoming projects, but David Walliams doesn't have too much to fear where his new sitcom Big School is concerned. It may be a little light on jokes, but it's transparently good-natured, agreeably old-fashioned and with an adult cast so attention-grabbing that the pupils occasionally feel a little incidental to proceedings.

Walliams is Mr Church, the sad-sack chemistry teacher who withdraws his proposed resignation when highly desirable maverick French teacher Miss Postern (Catherine Tate) arrives to shake up Greybridge secondary school. Frances de la Tour's withering headmistress, Daniel Rigby's clueless music tutor and Philip Glenister's non-PC PE teacher all grapple over scenes to steal and prise some good laughs out of the sometimes slight material.

It's no Grade-A student, but Big School isn't expulsion fodder either - a decent achievement with so few new sitcoms worthy of a pass these days.

I've just seen... Daniel Rigby

Mark Monahan discovers one of the funniest sketch shows at the Edinburgh Fringe.

Daniel Rigby cast as lead In Dave pilot 'Undercover'

UKTV has thus far been quiet on the project (as have most of my sources) but I've now learned that Daniel Rigby, who is currently filming a major role on BBC One's Big School, was cast as the lead character in Undercover.

Strong lead performances (Hayley Atweel, Lenora Crichlow and Daniel Rigby) have made the most of the nightmartish, almost ludicrous set-ups in Charlie Brooker's latest blast of three dystopian futures. Rigby is in perhaps the best of them, as a comedian who voices a rude satirical cartoon bear that ends up standing in a by-election.

The last of Charlie Brooker's dystopian dramas is the sharpest and lightest on its feet. It's also the most nakedly political. Daniel Rigby plays a depressed comedian, Jamie, who has found success on TV as the voice of Waldo, a foul-mouthed cartoon bear. Waldo's slot taking the mickey out of politicians on a weekly satire show is so popular that his media masters dream up a new stunt: Waldo will stand at a real by-election! (The producer figure, played by Jason Flemyng, who approves this idea is a priceless media twonk of the kind Brooker has been satirising since Nathan Barley.)

But things get complicated in the course of the by-election and the drama evolves into a story of why reviling politicians gets us nowhere. The system may be rotten but, as one character observes, "It built these roads."