David Stubbs (I)

A product of C4's Comedy Showcase, PhoneShop is set in the high street world of mobile phone sales. Despite its improvised feel, there is a broad anti-realist, improbable tone. Most of the characters talk in the faux patois of the wannabe black, including, curiously, the black character. This, amid the spivvy salesmanship, becomes a pretty dominant motif, and how funny you find it will determine how much you enjoy this series.

Familiar to many as the teacher who towers over the wretches of The Inbetweeners and bears an uncanny resemblance to Rik Mayall, Greg Davies returns to his native Shropshire. He takes an easy but effective pot shot at local newspaper headlines, does an extended routine about nicknames which will strike a chord with anyone who spent their teens at an all-boys school, and triumphs with an extended rant about owl cunnilingus. Guests are Roisin Conaty and Tom Deacon, who is good on the female tendency to clamber into pyjamas the moment they get home from work.

The third one-off special in this prequel series to Only Fools And Horses sees the Trotters still stuck in 1961, with Joan holding the family together as layabout husband and Grandad look on, while carrying on an affair with Rodney's dad Freddie, under the pretext of working as his charlady. Young Del, meanwhile, is wooing the daughter of a stuffy local undertaker. There's slightly more emphasis on the comedy than the drama this time but it's hardly rollicking stuff and works best as an hour or so's ambient period recreation of pre-Beatles repressed Britain.

This, perplexingly, is the ninth series of the sitcom, the purpose of which only seems to be to keep BBC3 from evaporating. This series, only six episodes long, may be the last, however. It introduces two new characters - Cassie (Georgia Henshaw), just released from a juvenile detention centre to stir things up down the pub, and Billy (Freddie Hogan), a would-be footballer who grates with Gaz on account of his mystifying cheeriness. In this respect, he'd make an ideal audience member for Two Pints.

To the near-universal bewilderment and depression of TV critics who must feel that their job is a futile one, Life of Riley returns for a third series and a run of eight episodes. The sort of sitcom you'd rather hoped they'd ceased to produce in this more naturalistic age, it sees Caroline Quentin and Neil Dudgeon preside over their combined brood of sons and daughters of varying ages and do battle with their neighbours, with substantially less than hilarious consequences. Tonight, Maddy braces herself to meet her mother's new boyfriend.

The finale of a series that's a bit broad and overdone but fills a scheduling hole amiably enough. Tonight, transvestite Les (a good turn from Tim Healy) discovers some of Donald's clothing at a nudist beach, but no Donald, who has left a note for Jacqueline. Madge is about to open her new bar, the aptly and exotically titled Batley Arms. Hilarity of sorts results from a family trip to a theme park, while Pauline, tensely awaiting news of her divorce, decides to ease matters with a drink. Same time next year, one supposes.

Set in the fictional Kirke University and revolving around the lives of members of staff, Campus was first shown as a pilot on C4 in 2009. It was greenlit for a full series and the result is a car crash. Among the writers are some of the team who worked on Green Wing and there are certainly flecks of comedy pedigree. But the maniacally ambitious vice-chancellor Jonty de Wolfe is a hopelessly misfiring caricature. Not having a laugh track is no guarantee of naturalism and there's barely an ounce of plausibility in Campus.

Much has been made of Frank Skinner's "rehabilitation" as a thoughtful talking head, as opposed to the New Lad icon of Fantasy Football, but he was never really that boorish back in the 1990s, and he's by no means so earnestly highbrow nowadays. Few details available, but this six-part run is set to follow the same format as the last, in which Skinner and guest comedians interact with audience members to ruminate amusingly, whimsically and often sharply on the detritus thrown up by current affairs.

Among the new arrivals this week are dear old Noreen, better known as Geoff's Mum before Johnny Vegas left the series. Tonight, she has in tow the obnoxious Pauline, whose accent has been mangled by residencies in South Africa and then Saudi Arabia. Meanwhile, Nick breaks the awkward silence with Madge concerning her current plight, and a not very plausible ginger-haired halfwit continues to pursue the ladies. It's not exactly Alan Bennett, but it proceeds amiably enough from one well-worn double entendre to the next - and Tim Healy's transvestite barman alone banishes the temptation to channel-hop.

This might look like yet another excuse to wallow in light entertainment's golden era and be reminded once again of Eric & Ernie, Frankie Howerd et al. But while a dire clip of Max Miller may make you wonder quite how golden this era actually was, this is largely wonderful stuff, rich with anecdotes told by veteran showbiz raconteurs. Variety didn't just involve comedy, but jugglers, musicians, hoofers, and acts who spent their entire careers doing just one turn. Among those recalling the high jinks and dismal lodgings of those bygone days are Ken Dodd, Val Doonican, Roy Hudd and Mike Winters.