Dawn French

The alternative comedy collective could be wonderful and they could be awful, often within the same episode. These two tales, first screened in 1984, display the best and the worst of the team's endeavours. Dawn French plays the lead in the love-story parody Susie, while Rik Mayall takes centre stage (surely not?) in the spaghetti western homage A Fistful of Travellers' Cheques. Sitcom veteran Bob Spiers directs both. Patchy scripting was a curse but ambitious, cinema-style visuals and a desire to experiment made the Strip a force to be reckoned with.

Comediennes are not the most conventionally alluring creatures on television - Dawn French, Victoria Wood and Jo Brand, to name a few, have often exploited their comfortable shape to hilarious ends.

So it will come as no surprise that striking funny-girl Olivia Lee, whose one-woman sketch show - Dirty, Sexy, Funny - starts on Comedy Central next week, has struggled to marry her glamorous appearance with her comic buffoonery.

"It has been hard sometimes getting people to take me seriously as a comedienne because people look at me and think: 'She's not going to be funny', says Olivia, 29. But that's a good thing because I am changing the cliched perception and bringing a bit of glam to it. You don't have to look funny to be funny - and there are always prosthetics which I can use in some of the sketches, although that is more for disguise in the hidden-camera bits."

A verse of Cole Porter's song Be a Clown goes: "Why be a great composer with your rent in arrears/Why be a major poet and you'll owe it for years?/When crowds'll pay to giggle if you wiggle your ears?/Be a clown, be a clown, be a clown."

Miranda Hart, who plays 'herself' in the new comedy series Miranda, has studied the meaning of the song and has had the guts and the talent to follow its guidance. Guts, because the comedy centres on her ungainliness - too tall (over six feet) for modishness, not fat but too fleshy; big feet and hands; a long face made lovely only with a smile. Talent, in living up to her billing as a successor to the now middle-aged Dawn French and Jennifer Saunders, with whom she has worked and from whom, it seems, she has learned much.

And part of that learning is that clowning is a hard matter, especially if - instead of wearing flapping shoes, baggy pants and a red nose - you present yourself to the camera and say: here am I, mid-thirties, look like this, no boyfriend, what are the chances? Come and laugh at me finding out.

All this is clowning, but with sophistication. Miranda - as her name, education and mother's comportment betray - is upper middle-class, but neither she nor the class is mocked for it: the comedy lives in a world where, even in Surrey, there is a downside, as well as an upside, in being raised this way. The two friends are ghastly, not in an upper-class way but rather in seeking to live like pseudo-celebrities, all shrieks and "Omigods!" and shopping therapy. The farcical episodes - knocking over coat stands, being mistaken for a transvestite, licking a chocolate penis (part of her stock) in the street - succeed each other naturally and hilariously because they are linked back to the central character, whose brilliance shines the more in what had been something of a parched season for comedy.

Molina stars opposite Dawn French

Da Vinci Code actor Alfred Molina is to star opposite Dawn French in new BBC Two comedy series Roger and Val Have Just Got In, it has been announced.

See how Gordon Brown's mouth falls down after he speaks? See how Dawn French is fat? See how Scottish people are smack heads? What about some celebrities? Don't they get DRUNK? See children? Aren't they sexy? See cricket? Isn't it boring? See stand-ups? When they guest on Mock The Week, don't they get to choose a round that allows them to recite a big chunk of their stand-up routine?

Mock The Week grows ever more popular, being the sole mainstream comedy satire show not peopled by authority figures and old favourites whose laughs grow more grating by the week. It is The Frankie Boyle Show, of course. While the others flail around him fighting, often pointedly, for applause, he can deliver the audience into a paroxysm of frenzied self-congratulation merely by suggesting that John Prescott is fat/Gordon Brown has one eye/David Cameron is posh.

Of course, the comedians (Boyle in particular) are capable of wit. But that's not the main outcome of the show. It's not about laughs. It's a show about concision, speed and nastiness. Get a clear run on the mic before anyone else and suggest that MTW stands for Mediocre Television Spamfilter and you'd get a laugh just for having replaced an initial with a rude word.

The most telling point is the guest comedians. Whether total rubbish (Gina Yashere) average (Jon Richardson) or brilliant (Stewart Lee, who described his own appearance thus: 'I must have looked like a competition winner, who'd won a prize to sit silent on an unfunny topical quiz show') they never make any impact. They're always less important than Andy Parsons. Think about how that must feel.

Anyway, "I blame Princess Diana" said Jam & Jerusalem's quintessentially stiff-lipped Caroline (Jennifer Saunders) while talking about the prevailing mood of dreadful wetness and soppiness during last Sunday's excruciating dinner party, which was also attended by Dawn French's lady-who-doesn't, Rosie, and kindly Sal (Sue Johnston), thus turning it into a kind of oestrogen-drenched comedy masterclass, albeit writ rather small and bittersweet, rather as if Jennifer (with co-writer Abigail Wilson) has finally got all that relentless comedy shouting out of her system, and grown up.

Anyway, Caroline was so constipated by her class that she referred to her son, fighting in "the Helmand", as if he was killing time by doing something slightly irksome like pulling up weeds on the drive or putting the rubbish out. Caroline's lip was, obviously, only allowed to tremble when she assumed no one else could see it.

I don't know - perhaps this scene was all the more touching for being aired the day after the announcement of the 200th military death in Afghanistan, but actually I disagree with Caroline; let's not blame Princess Diana for becoming a nation of soppy emotional incontinents; instead let's blame her former sister-in-law, Sarah, Duchess of York instead.

Jennifer Saunders's light-hearted WI sitcom is Sunday night whimsy at its best. Tonight's episode has a touch of Miss Marple about it as Sal (Sue Johnston) decides to snoop around the construction site with a camera and notepad in the hope of finding some evidence of wrongdoing. Meanwhile, Caroline (Saunders) plans a dinner party for her husband's London friends. However, things inevitably go awry when she accidentally invites Rosie (Dawn French) and the vicar.

'I've got some crystal meth in the fridge,' piped up posh Caroline at a Women's Guild drugs talk in the village hall during the painful Jam & Jerusalem). 'I actually prefer it to Dom Perignon!' This was Jennifer Saunders saving the best joke for herself, even though Caroline is only a bit part. Yes, seriously, that was the best joke.

Jam And Jerusalem is so relentlessly rubbish it actually made me suspect that I'd been on crystal meth when finding Absolutely Fabulous so funny back in the day. Because it's almost impossible to believe this bumpkinbaiting effort, which might as well be called Aren't Country Folk Daft?, is the work of the same person. La Saunders must have been sniffing way too much manure in her country retreat to imagine that J&J is fit for anything other than mulching out as a makeweight repeat on G.O.L.D.

It's almost painful to watch the likes of Sue Johnston and David Mitchell work their socks off to inject something passing for life into their cardboard cut-out characters. And the world can surely live without Dawn French contributing yet another variation on her busty yokel simpleton routine, though admittedly she does do gumby with a certain gusto.

The WI drug lecture was easily the funniest part of Jam & Jerusalem. In a wonderfully unselfish performance, Hazel John as Pauline delivered her talk with the passion of a florist describing how to assemble a seasonal bouquet. "Jeannine from the Spar has let me have her bongo or bong, and this spoon, and there's rolling papers 'ere for us to have a go," she droned. Her audience carried on gossiping about the barn conversion at the back of Sal's garden, allegedly being carried out for Charles Dance. The name Charles Dance soon trumped every argument - he had been so good as Ivory Merchant "in the film of that name" - and no rumour about the protesting Sal was too scurrilous to be believed.

Content - ie, tales from a sluggish, genteel rural community where nothing much happens - determines this series's form and nearly seals its fate. Now stitched into a whole hour, Jam & Jerusalem on its return felt a bit long and a bit slow, but I seem to remember it did at 30 minutes too. What saves it, are the surrealist touches and, actually, Dawn French, whether she is dumbly suckling a lamb or mischievously barping out the EastEnders theme when a mini bombshell of news explodes in the pub. The question is whether Jam & Jerusalem could be funnier without looking as though it were trying to be funnier and thus spoiling the whole, nonchalant, thing.

Jennifer Saunders's cosy West Country WI sitcom returns for its third run. Tonight's series-opener sees the Clatterford Guild oppose a local barn conversion - until they hear rumours that it's to house a certain celebrity. The whimsical wit may split sofa opinion, but there's no doubting the quality of the cast, which is a Who's Who of Britcom: Sue Johnston (The Royle Family), David Mitchell (Peep Show), Sally Phillips (Smack the Pony), Pauline McLynn (Father Ted) and, of course, Saunders's comedy partner Dawn French.