David Chater

Ridiculous though it may sound, it is almost a relief to watch an episode of this inspired series that doesn't knock you off your perch. At least it gives you a chance to draw breath. A neat & prissy primary school teacher (Reece Shearsmith) with aspirations to be a writer finds himself having an encounter of the most unwelcome kind with a tramp (Steve Pemberton). The tramp has an eerie resemblance to the Cowardly Lion from the Wizard of Oz - only not nearly as benign. "It's nice to talk to a fellow human", says the tramp. "It makes me feel like I exist". It is a sinister tale about the fragile nature of sanity performed by actors who are frighteningly good.

Having got off to a brilliant start last week, the latest episode in Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith's series of self-contained black comedies is so good that it may well leave you speechless. It is the funniest, cleverest, most imaginative and original television I've seen for as long as I can remember - one of those fabulous programmes where time stands still and the world around you disappears. It stars Denis Lawson and Oona Chaplin alongside Shearsmith and Pemberton, and it takes place inside one of those ultra-modern designer homes made of steel and glass that are filled with conceptual art. And that, I'm afraid, is as much as I can say without spoiling the fun.

Inside No. 9 is magnificent. It is the latest series to emerge from the dark imaginations of Reece Shearsmith and Steve Pemberton, the pair who were also responsible for Psychoville & The League of Gentlemen (with Mark Gatiss and Jeremy Dyson).

Their new series consists of six self-contained, bleakly comic dramas set in six very different No 9s, ranging from a suburban home to a country pile. Like all the best short stories or one-act plays, tonight's episode works with a deceptive and outrageous simplicity. A group of characters are playing a game of sardines. One after the other, they squeeze into a cupboard. Some are partners. Some are engaged. Some are work colleagues. Some have ugly histories in common, and one is a stranger to hygiene. Between them, they cover a wide variety of social backgrounds, sexual orientations and age groups. If a bomb dropped on the cupboard where they were hiding, a good portion of the acting talent in this country would be wiped out.

The high quality ensemble includes Anne Reid, Julian Rhind-Tutt, Katherine Parkinson, Anna Chancellor and Timothy West, all of whom squeeze in alongside Pemberton and Shearsmith. However, this isn't just an inspired set-up performed by a stellar cast, it builds to a macabre and horribly imagined climax.

Rev, the new comedy series starring Tom Hollander as a vicar struggling to cope in an inner-city parish in Hackney, East London is an absolute joy. The script was written by James Wood, the man responsible for the brilliant comedy Freezing, and it is directed by the Oscar-nominated Peter Cattaneo, of The Full Monty fame. Not only is it extremely funny, but like all the best comedy it is based on truthful observation - gleaned from the experiences of real Church of England priests. What makes it so unusual and warm-hearted is that Hollander's priest is so sincere. This is a priest who believes in God, who prays and can take on Richard Dawkins without a hint of sanctimony - and who still finds life a source of constant tribulation.

John Sullivan's 90-minute prequel to Only Fools and Horses turned out to be a wonderful surprise. With no laughter track and a minimum of slapstick, it is very different in tone to its successor. Rather than going for broad laughter it concentrates instead on an affair between the unhappily married Joan Trotter (Kellie Bright) and a local crook (Nicholas Lyndhurst). It is a simple love story played out against the backdrop of a pre-Beatles Britain, when money was short and the chance to move into a tower block was seen as the epitome of luxury. Rock & Chips works on its terms, and explains much about why Del and Rodney turned out the way they did.

By now The IT Crowd, beginning its fourth series, has a cosy familiarity. The three main actors - four if you include Matt Berry's deranged chauvinist boss - inhabit their roles so completely that there is no longer any need for them to strain for laughs. That much you would expect from a long-running series. But even so, tonight's episode is exceptionally funny. Jen (Katherine Parkinson) has decided to apply for the job of Entertainment Officer, which involves showing sexually frustrated out-of-town businessmen the sleazier side of the capital. Only on this occasion, these honking refugees from a 1970s sitcom are sucked into a game of fantasy role-play organised by the über-geek Moss (Richard Ayoade). The moral? It's OK to get in touch with your inner nerd.

The youngest son Ben (Daniel Roche) is in trouble at school for re-enacting the running of the bulls at Pamplona. Back in the relative safety of the home, he busies himself playing games inspired by Bear Grylls, one of which involves climbing up the north face of the wardrobe - until it is struck by an avalanche. Dad (Hugh Dennis), meanwhile, is still in the doghouse after the night of the bright green cocktails when he kissed a stranger. But all of this pales into insignificance when little Karen (Ramona Marquez) is hit by a car on the way to the school concert and rushed into hospital. Fortunately it isn't serious - just a few bumps and bruises. It's the unsuspecting nurse at the hospital you need to worry about.

This is one of the funniest episodes to date. Last week, you may remember, Dad (Hugh Dennis) had woken up with a crippling hangover after a night out that involved green cocktails. It gets worse. It turns out that he danced with a woman called Mimi who kissed him - and he kissed her back - and now his wife (Claire Skinner) has found out. One way and another it could hardly be a worse time for the unspeakable sister (Samantha Bond) to arrive for a visit with her new boyfriend, an American therapist with a ponytail called Brick (Douglas Hodge). They all go out for a meal and the evening degenerates into a classic middle-class bloodbath, during which little Karen (Ramona Marquez) dissects the ponytail's psychobabble with lethal precision.

The Ricky Gervais Show is an animated version of the famous podcasts that featured Gervais, Stephen Merchant and Karl Pilkington sitting in a studio having the kind of free-range conversation that friends have in pubs in the last hour before closing time. When the show, which was originally broadcast in 2001 on Xfm, was released as a podcast, it was downloaded more than 250,000 times and won a place in Guinness World Records. The animation is somewhere between The Flintstones and South Park and the subject matter ranges from chimps in space to alternative methods of human reproduction. Many people enjoy its unstructured inventiveness. Others will dismiss it - in Gervais's words - as "the ramblings of someone you'd find in a hospital by themselves eating flies".

One of the boys has been downloading "inappropriate" images of their teacher, which leads to an awkward family discussion about the meaning of inappropriate. But Dad (Hugh Dennis) tries not to worry. "They're just teenage boys," he tells his wife (Claire Skinner). "They're like baboons on heat. In school uniforms." Elsewhere in the house, five-year-old Karen (Ramona Marquez) is busy writing letters to President Obama. "I am beginning to lose my patience . . ." she begins. She is also developing a tough-love approach to prison reform. Prisoners, she says, should be put in holes in the ground. Occasionally soup should be poured in, forcing them to scoop it up in their hands. The trouble with children is that they don't appreciate the value of political correctness.