David Brown (I)

Terry Wogan is on the panel this evening, so you know it's only a matter of time before host Rob Brydon employs his scarily accurate impersonation of the great broadcaster. But he's not the only one present with a facility for accents, as comedian Kevin Bridges proves when he drops his Scottish brogue quicker than you can say "John Barrowman".

As ever, though, it's the forensic cross-examinations that make the show, particularly those directed at Sir Terry, who has to convince the opposing team that he performs minor acts of arson for kicks and begins his Christmas Day celebrations in a most unorthodox manner. You'll also get a strange buzz when he says the words "blank" and "blanks" again after so many years.

Nearly three years after moral opprobrium was heaped on him following the "Sachsgate" scandal and just over 12 months since his departure from the BBC, Jonathan Ross returns to the chat-show format. He has, of course, already been a part of ITV1 Saturday nights this year, having fronted Penn & Teller: Fool Us. But this is the first time he's been back behind a desk interviewing celebrities.

Guests in this opener are Formula One champ Lewis Hamilton, Sex and the City's Sarah Jessica Parker and singer/songwriter Adele. The enticing prospect though for viewers will be seeing whether Ross still has an appetite for near-the-knuckle banter in the light of past controversies.

As we're now well aware, Julie will readily grasp any chance to lord it over her colleagues, so the arrival of Valco's area manager ("we go way back") appears to be the perfect opportunity to act all superior. The trouble is that Colin Falcon turns out to be a disreputable so-and-so.

He's played by Lee Boardman (horrid Jez Quigley in Corrie). Here, Boardman's character chances his arm with Katie on the checkout and puts Julie in a very difficult situation.

The Office may now be a decade old, but its influence can certainly be felt on this workplace comedy that also features a hapless authority figure, apathetic employees and even some Tim-and-Dawn-style unrequited romance. The setting is Valco, a budget supermarket in the North West, where Jane Horrocks plays Jill, the interim deputy manager, who's the kind to open a conversation with "no offence" and then immediately go on to wound the feelings of her subordinates. You know the type - bristling with ambition, but unable to keep from cramming her foot into her mouth at every opportunity. As for the humour, well, it feels a little broad at this point, particularly the scenes involving Jill's attempts to ingratiate herself with her boss Gavin (Jason Watkins), which predictably end with her buried in social shame. But there's definite potential in the slippage between the store's happy-to-help façade and the general disillusionment of its staff, with Nick Blood and The Full Monty's Mark Addy proving to be particularly effective in this opening double bill as butchering duo Kieran and Andy.

It's the story of failed flirtations, strained marital relations and a passion for innuendo. Yes, sitcom heroes may be sexually frustrated but it seems there's a lot of laughs to be had from being unlucky in love. This examination of TV characters that have lusted and usually lost takes the likes of Hancock, Ria from Butterflies and the Men Behaving Badly and sets their behaviour into a social context. So we witness the liberation on The Liver Birds that was brought about by the introduction of the contraceptive pill and see how the gradual shedding of inhibitions resulted in the anything-goes atmosphere of Gimme Gimme Gimme. Writers Simon Nye and Jonathan Harvey are among those contributing their thoughts and there are plenty of accompanying clips to release your titters.

Chat-show hosts make great fodder for writers as it's so tempting to imagine huge egos going hand in hand with those large salaries. This comedy drama by Andy Lynch finds Clive Anderson taking a wry dig at his own CV as a self-obsessed frontman who's not impressed when his careerist producer gets herself a stalker. The all-star cast includes Martine McCutcheon, Ricky Tomlinson, Andy Parsons and Emily Head, from Channel 4''s The Inbetweeners, in her first radio role.

This stand-up show from 2007 will come as a surprise to those whose only exposure to Lee Mack is in sitcom Not Going Out or as team captain on Would I Lie to You? The physicality of his on-stage persona feels as if the comedian regularly seen behind a panel-show desk has been let off the lead for the night and the result is riotous and very funny. Early on, he borrows a pair of glasses and breaks into an impression of Eric Morecambe. But there's more here than just quick one-liners and clever wordplay. The spontaneity in his interactions with audience members is impressive ("You're a plumber? Nice of you to turn up") and somehow his sheer cheek never ends up feeling malicious.

Caroline Aherne and Craig Cash rarely give interviews, so it's a real surprise to see them talking at such length about one of TV's best-loved sitcoms. Their anecdotes are often cut short by laughter, but we do get genuine insights into the meticulous way that the series is written, filmed and even edited. Such is the love for the pair that cast members and high-profile fans including Catherine Tate and Willy Russell all line up to pay tribute, but it's Cash and Aherne themselves who emerge as the most frank. For those who feel that the added slapstick of recent Christmas specials has severed the show from its realist roots, Cash's reasoning for the shift in tone will be of particular interest.

To mark the 40th anniversary of The Goodies' television debut, Ross Noble chats to Bill Oddie, Tim Brooke-Taylor and Graeme Garden about giant cats, trandems and rampaging Dougals. Along the way we learn of the trio's superstar status in Australia and how Weymouth was able to double for the North Pole and the Moon, plus reminiscences of doing the funky gibbon on Top of the Pops. All three performers prove to be expansive interviewees, even going so far as to discuss any regrets about blacking up for certain sketches and how they felt about comedy competitors Monty Python's Flying Circus. Guest stars Patrick Moore and Michael Aspel also offer anecdotes, the former recalling his turn as a punk and the latter on being flattened by Kitten Kong.

We've had to wait 13 years for the second volume of Stephen Fry's autobiography, but thankfully this latest memoir is just as self-deprecatory and likeable as Moab is My Washpot. Here we get episodes from Fry's time at Cambridge plus his years of professional success (or "career harlotry" as he describes it) during the 1980s. As you'd expect from this period in the performer's life, the anecdotes are incredibly name-droppy. But Fry treats himself with such savagery and, at times, borderline contempt, that the result is never smug or supercilious. Which isn't to say that he stints on the laughs - indeed a passage about the pleasures of Radio 4 and going on Loose Ends with Ned Sherrin should be enough to inspire you to seek out the unabridged version.