David Mitchell (I)

I once sat through an edition of Would I Lie to You? without laughing. No, you're right - that's a lie. You try keeping a straight face as Sarah Millican tells the story of what she did when caught short while stuck in her car in a traffic jam. Or as Jon Richardson turns into "Trevor Travel-Planner" in his attempt to discredit Frank Skinner's tale about being taken to A&E in an ice-cream van while on holiday. But it's Lee Mack and David Mitchell who steal everyone's thunder with their by now familiar posh-versus-common, southern-versus-northern tirades.

Much, much more heart-warming and just plain funnier than Mock the Week, I'd say - is BBC One's Would I Lie To You?. The show gets a lovely mix of guests but at its core is the genius idea of pitting David Mitchell and Lee Mack against each other as team captains. The highbrow vs lowbrow, South vs North dynamic is endlessly entertaining, and they are so quick, so sharp. I laugh out loud every week.

And in this latest series in particular, the producers seem perfectly happy to throw in a few lies per episode that are so utterly unbelievable that the guest can just have fun with it without being shackled by the need to make it sound plausible. A well-told, utterly convincing lie is impressive; a ridiculous one can be hilarious. Enter the supreme David O'Doherty, charged with persuading the opposing team that he is seeing a hypno-therapist to get over his addiction to hypno-therapists. THIS, ladies and gentlemen, is entertainment...

David Mitchell: David Croft came from golden age of TV

David Croft came from the golden age of television, when it was a unifying medium with enormous power.

There are times when you wonder if this show wouldn't work just as well as a head-to-head between David Mitchell and Lee Mack - everyone else is making up the numbers really, and they know it. You can imagine a programme where the two of them simply sat there and mocked each other's different worlds, and a very funny show it would be.

But probably not as funny as this is, because it's often the rogue elements that make it - such as Nigel Havers this week claiming he once went out with a flamenco dancer who turned out to be a man. Mack's flights of fancy as he interrogates that story are inspired, as is Mitchell's cross-examination of Charlie Brooker's far-fetched Valentine's Day anecdote. I mean, what kind of teenager was he?

Did ever a panel game generate so much pure, simple comedy pleasure with apparently so little effort? Tonight, most of the claims that guests are required to make are laughably implausible. But the laughable bit is what matters. As Lee Mack keeps up the pretence that he can tell someone's head size just by looking at it, or Katherine Parkinson maintains that when she was 15 she thought Wombles were real, the laughs tumble in thick and fast - particularly when David Mitchell goes off on a flight of fancy about how Uncle Bulgaria got his glasses.

Louie Spence adds a brilliantly lewd edge to proceedings, and there are unexpected twists on the usual running gags, as Mitchell accuses Mack of intellectual snobbery (yes, that way round) and Mack wonders if Mitchell might actually shop at Argos.

If you're still laughing at the memory of Rob Brydon and Nick Hewer sharing an orange cuddle jumper last week, tune in tonight for some more fibbing fun.

David Mitchell's mate Robert Webb joins the panel tonight and would have us believe he once had so many imaginary friends they formed a gang.

Also on David's team is Sir Terry Wogan, with totally absurd stories that might or might not be true. Either way, he enjoys himself telling them.

It's almost impossible NOT to grin like an idiot all the way through as everyone is having such a good time. But it's in the cross-examination where this show really takes off.

It seems that inside every panellist is a barrister dying to get out and if the comedy thing ever dries up, somewhere out there is a horsehair wig with Lee Mack's name on it.

Katy Wix, Kevin Bridges and host Rob Brydon join in tonight's gleeful grilling.

Lee Mack and David Mitchell's quick-witted cross examinations are by far the best bits of this show, and tonight they get to bounce off Terry Wogan, who claims, among other things, that he likes to fire a loaded pistol every Christmas. The broadcasting legend also gives Rob Brydon an excuse to roll out his impression.

Sir Terry Wogan joins the panel this week for the comedy game show in which celebrities tell supposedly true tales for the consideration of a rival team. Wogan claims that he begins Christmas Day by firing a loaded pistol. Plus, comedian Kevin Bridges has to explain what happened when he found a suitcase of bananas. Team captain Lee Mack is also joined by his Not Going Out co-star Katy Wix, and David Mitchell welcomes his comedy partner Robert Webb].

I really don't know what they're giving panellists before they go on this show.

The start of series five dissolves into a puddle of infectious hysteria that has more than one of the cast absolutely weeping with laughter.

I blame The Apprentice's Nick Hewer, who kicks off proceedings with a wonderfully straight-faced tale of how he and Lord Sugar like to relax after a tough day's filming in the boardroom.

He's a very welcome addition to the line-up, proving that you don't have to be a professional stand-up to get big laughs on this show.

Team captains Lee Mack and David Mitchell are also joined this week by Jack Whitehall and Rebecca Front as well as Miranda Hart.

The latter is reduced to helpless tears of mirth by her own very unlikely sounding tale about trying out for QPR's women's football team. But it's host Rob Brydon's own demonstration of a cuddle jumper that really brings the house down.

While much of Would I Lie To You? would work almost as well on radio, the cuddle jumper is an item of clothing which absolutely must be seen to be fully enjoyed.

A perfect blend of innocent silliness and razor-sharp wit, Would I Lie To You? is still the perfect way to wind down for the weekend.

And this might just be the funniest episode ever.

Size has always been central to Ronnie Corbett's fame too - or rather, the lack of it. As if to prove the point, Matt Lucas described him as "a giant" in the introductory sequence of Ronnie Corbett's Comedy Britain. That sequence made this sound like a long and slightly tedious tour of Corbett's lunch companions, with the aim of presenting him as the patron saint of British comedy. In fact, it was utterly wonderful.

Miranda Hart, Stephen Merchant, David Mitchell and John Cleese were among those who shared insights into what makes comedians tick and comedy funny. The former is mainly the potential for going from bladder-wrenching insecurity to megalomania in the blink of an eye. The latter is mainly timing.

Corbett proved a superb and humble interrogator. He didn't address the decline of the sitcom and the relative rise of sketch shows, nor did he ask why so many comedies these days centre on flocks of people, rather than families, and what that says about our society. But he did remind us that contemporary British comedy is full of great talent, a useful corrective to the nostalgic defeatism of most televisual trips down memory lane.