Dick Clement

"Don't mind Eddie, he likes to call a spade a spade. It's when he calls me a spade that I mind!"

Such is the power of sitcom that those two lines from Love Thy Neighbour are still fresh in my memory after nearly 40 years. Possibly because it is such a dreadful joke, possibly because every joke in Love Thy Neighbour was a variation on it.

Back in the seventies and early eighties, the humble sitcom was the meat and potatoes of British broadcasting, providing millions with unsophisticated but satisfying fare. This was before the genre was elevated to an art form, subjected to quality control and critically scrutinised to death. Or called a genre, for that matter.

Beyond a Joke takes us back to those glory days and places classic, and not so classic, British sitcoms into their social and historical context.

Which makes Beyond a Joke sound as dry as dust, but it really isn't. For one thing, the programme takes full advantage of the archives, cherry picking all of the best moments to make its point. And in a welcome change from the usual clip show convention of recruiting unknown stand-up comedians and former children's TV presenters to blab inanities, it invites actual informed opinion from such illustrious contributors as Tony Benn, John Cleese and Dick Clement.

Episode one was all about class, a rich vein of humour that sitcoms of the period mined extensively. We saw Captain Mainwaring bristle with indignation as Sergeant Wilson joined the golf club, Basil Fawlty fawning over an aristocratic guest, Margot Ledbetter locking horns with the local council. Plus Stan from On The Buses trying to sneak a dolly bird upstairs past his disapproving extended family. Which accurately reflected the enduring post-war housing shortage, but made a less than convincing case for Reg Varney as a sex god.

All of which was linked by Dave Lamb's suitably jaunty narration.

Whatever Porridge had could not be replicated. Clement said: "The BBC invited us to a thank-you lunch, which went on till five o'clock. After the seventh large brandy, we walked out of there having agreed to do a sequel called Going Straight." It had precisely the same ingredients. It failed. So did a film. Porridge itself can be seen on Thursdays doing its characteristic impression of a daisy.

Despite the shortcomings in the plot, Auf Wiedersehen, Pet has been the best "new" British drama on TV this year. Its return, whilst critically not quite living up to its previous two series, has still been very welcome indeed.

The big TV event of the week is the return of Auf Wiedersehen, Pet (BBC1), something I'm unqualified to comment on with any degree of authority, having been too young to appreciate the original ITV series, which at the time seemed to consist entirely of slightly frightening men standing in a Portakabin, bellowing at one another in a dialect I didn't understand.

It is well worth a watch. At the worst you learn how to spell Widersehen just as that deplorable business with the Barlows taught us how to spell Dierdre. Hang on, Deirdre. No, I before E except...

'Going Straight' is the worthy successor of 'Porridge.' Norman Fletcher, still played by Ronnie Barker, is out of the nick and cleaving to the straight and narrer. His dialogue, like everybody else's in the show, is still supplied by Dick Clement and Ian La Frenais. Every line they write is at least twice as good as anything in the average West End play.

And Going Straight always has the copper-bottomed commodiously curved Ronnie Barker, looking like Father Christmas who has come to nick the toys.

For those who already know the Likely Lads, so far the radio version is sticking closely to the television scripts. However, last week when Thelma ends up accidentally in Terry's bed in the radio version it sounded as though she was naked whereas in the television version she wore a discreet petticoat. The best example I have heard of the old saw about preferring radio to television because the scenery is better.

Porridge is not particularly about prison, and if it were it might be distasteful or intolerable. It is about Barker, in shape and content an all-round bad egg, resisting to the last wriggle and wangel and back answer, the pressure of the system. So instinctively awkward that he lies about his height merely to deceive the doctor.

A rock solid script, by Clement and La Frenais. Good comic writing depends on a regular supply of real-life speech patterns - the main reason why success tends to interfere with talent, since it separates the writer from his sources.