David Chater

Dave Gorman asks members of the public to write in with "inspired" ideas, which he and a celebrity guest examine in depth. Some of the best ideas don't even make it onto the shortlist. Cold-air ballooning ("all the fun of hot-air ballooning for people who are afraid of heights") was rejected out of hand, as was the suggestion that everything should be made out of leaves. But three equally crazed ideas make it onto the programme, and in each case the people who dreamt them up are subjected to a rigorous cross-examination. One of the ideas is for a bus service that operates on democratic principles, going where the majority of passengers tell it to go. Or there's the taxi driver who takes his passengers' shoes as surety. It's a harmless enough show and the aspiring geniuses are an entertaining lot, but it is little more than a pub game.

Stewart Lee is a stand-up comedian who specialises in telling unfashionable truths. He has the manner of Gordon Brown at his glummest, but instead of being downbeat, this is comedy so accurate and courageous that its effect is exhilarating. His target tonight is the debased world of book publishing. "Did William Tyndale," he wonders miserably, "burn at the stake in 1536 in the cause of vernacular English literature so that you could read The Gospel According to Chris Moyles?"; He demolishes Dan Brown, explains why he has never read J. K. Rowling and disrespects the rapper Asher D's autobiography. "I like this book," he says, "because when I read a book, I don't like there to be too many words in it. What I prefer is for it to be pictures of the same man, over and over again, in a variety of different hats." It's the comic highlight of the week.

Two stars of Gavin and Stacey, Mathew Horne and James Corden, now have a show of their own. Like so many sketch shows, it is a wildly mixed affair. The best of it is the quality and variety of their acting, which is spectacularly accomplished - these guys are very, very good. One sketch in particular, in which Corden plays a seedy, down-at-heel wastrel who embarrasses an old schoolfriend in front of his family, is a masterpiece of loathsome observation. The downside is that much of the material is crude and horribly unfunny. It is no surprise to discover that the series was directed by Kathy Burke, who was never likely to add a lightness of touch. In one sketch, two teachers give a joint lesson to a class on how to draw penises; in another we meet a gay news reporter; elsewhere, Corden pulls up his shirt and rolls his stomach in front of a burger bar as a form of consumer complaint. Nice.

Friday-night comedies are on a winning streak at the moment, thanks in large part to a move away from those dire gag-driven sitcoms with their deafening laughter tracks that are so beloved at the BBC. Tonight's episode of Moving Wallpaper is as funny as ever, with the producer (Ben Miller) trying to convince American moneymen to co-fund ITV's first-ever zombie series.

Back for a new series, Moving Wallpaper is joyously and uproariously funny. Its companion piece, the soap opera Echo Beach, has been axed because the fictional head of ITV drama (played by Raquel Cassidy) said: "It was shit and no one watched it." Faced with the prospect of unemployment, the unhinged producer (Ben Miller) turns to the writer for inspiration.

Having lectured him on the realities of the marketplace ("It's the Simon Cowell era! You either hitch up those trousers and get on board or you ship on out!") he proceeds to kill him, stuff him in the lavatory and steal his idea. At ITV, this creative process is known as banging heads against a wall, blue-sky thinking, running things up flagpoles and shaking dramatic trees. And the idea for the pilot, which will star Kelly Brook, is about zombies. Rarely are viewers given such a privileged insight into the workings of television.

Al Murray is so convincing as the Pub Landlord that, like Ricky Gervais, you start to worry where the actor ends and the role begins. That's why it is such a wonderful surprise to see him playing so many different characters in this new sketch show. One of the best is the gentleman safe breaker who, having been caught, talks his way out of arrest. Better still is the airline pilot who rambles on over the intercom about his sex-change operation. A couple of sketches are based on great ideas - one being the trailer for an ITV drama starring Ray Winstone as Ghandi. And for lovers of old-fashioned vaudeville who yearn for the days of Dick Emery, Murray plays a Nazi dressed in pink who can't wait to get down to some serious interrogating.

Coming hot on the heels of Plus One, Free Agents is Channel 4's second Friday night homegrown comedy series that is fun to watch. And that has got to be some sort of record. The success of Free Agents is entirely down to the strange love story at its heart. "I need a stable environment in which to get better," says the Stephen Mangan character to the girlfriend who isn't his girlfriend (Sharon Horgan). "And if I stay in your stable environment, then we can get better together."

In tonight's episode, the pair head off to a funeral to try and steal the clients of a dead agent, like a couple of wounded sparrows pretending to be vultures.

Free Agents is a new romantic comedyseries, wallowing in obscenity, about a dysfunctional couple failing to have an affair. Personally I enjoyed it a lot, although I probably wouldn't recommend it to my 84-year-old mother. The couple concerned are a divorced father-of-two (Stephen Mangan) and a work colleague (Sharon Horgan) whose fiance dropped dead at the age of 34.

The Mangan character is broke, homeless and about as sexually sophisticated as a 15-year-old born-again Christian, while his nongirlfriend is suffering from posttraumatic death disorder. They work together in an actors agency run by a cynical old goat (Anthony Head), out of whose mouth poursa stream of uncensored filth. It works because, deep beneath the brittle layer of self-conscious trendiness, it is an old-fashioned love story with its own perverse brand of charm.

Free Agents is a new romantic comedy series, wallowing in obscenity, about a dysfunctional couple failing to have an affair. Personally I enjoyed it a lot, although I probably wouldn't recommend it to my 84-year-old mother. The couple concerned are a divorced father-of-two (Stephen Mangan) and a work colleague (Sharon Horgan) whose fiancé dropped dead at the age of 34.

The Mangan character is broke, homeless and about as sexually sophisticated as a 15-year-old born-again Christian, while his nongirlfriend is suffering from posttraumatic death disorder. They work together in an actors agency run by a cynical old goat (Anthony Head), out of whose mouth pours a stream of uncensored filth. It works because, deep beneath the brittle layer of self-conscious trendiness, it is an old-fashioned love story with its own perverse brand of charm.

It is always a relief to come across a comedy that is fun to watch. And bearing in mind how much gloom is spread by unfunny comedies, it is doubly sad that this is the last in the series. Rob (Daniel Mays) has decided to release the poison in his soul by ditching his plan to upstage his former girlfriend (Miranda Raison) on her wedding day. Until, that is, he meets a girl who is capable of doing the upstaging with a vengeance. She's a multi-millionairess and a former model with a PhD in biochemistry, whose father invented Toilet Duck. When she says she'd like to sleep with him, he can't believe his luck. His eyes widen. He gulps. "That would be really... kind," he says. But if something seems too good to be true, it often is.