Fiona Bruce (I)

Comic Relief Dibley punch was Dawn French's idea

Fiona Bruce has admitted that the punch wasn't in the script but Dawn just did it during rehearsals for the comedy.

Radio Times review

Ray Mears walks straight into Frank Skinner's comedy trap when he suggests that fakes should be consigned to Room 101. He always wants to have the real thing. "I agree. We tried to get Bear Grylls rather than you. But he cost ten grand!" is Skinner's response.

Ray brings a certain gravitas to the show, while fellow panellists Fiona Bruce and Canadian comedian Katherine Ryan keep it light. Actually, Ryan has some extraordinary dance moves and even more unusual pet peeves. She believes nappies should only be available on prescription, and that Cheryl Fernandez-Versini is not only part of a government conspiracy but also a robot.

Mackenzie Crook's understated comedy Detectorists sees he and Toby Jones play metal detector enthusiasts whose finds rarely amount to more than a vintage biscuit wrapper ("mint Viscount, '75") or ring-pulls ("'83 Tizer"). As you might expect from an actor who graduated from The Office, there is a hint of Ricky Gervais in the writing, most notably in Jones's delusional loser Lance, but there's no cruelty. Mostly, the humour is located in boredom, though there is a good joke about Fiona Bruce and a brief turn by an agreeably eccentric farmer, who seems to have wandered in from Withnail & I.

The tall stories (some true, some not) comedy panel show returns for an eighth series. Its longevity has much to do with the way host Rob Brydon, plus team captains Lee Mack and David Mitchell, get close to the knuckle without taking things too far for primetime, a tricky balancing act when Mitchell discusses the lead-up to an alleged vomiting incident ("There was definitely drinking, I think there might have been crisps ... "). First guests are Fiona Bruce, Micky Flanagan, Steve Jones and Claudia Winkleman.

Radio Times review

Host Rob Brydon and team captains David Mitchell and Lee Mack return for series eight of the jolly panel show that tests the fibbing skills of celebrity teams. In this opening episode Micky Flanagan is the sole comedian guest, alongside TV presenters (of one form or other) Fiona Bruce, Claudia Winkleman and Steve Jones.

Did Flanagan liven up a hen do by taking his clothes off? Does Fiona Bruce dream about monkeys? And did Steve Jones once save rapper P Diddy's life? It may be inspired by elements from other panel shows (Call My Bluff and the mystery guest element from They Think It's All Over being the most obvious), but thanks in large part to the wit and repartee of the three regulars, the fun is infectious.

The newest thing in comedy sketch shows - and doesn't that very phrase feel antediluvian? - is Watson & Oliver, well known to Edinburgh Fringe audiences. They're an appealing duo. Ingrid Oliver has a thrillingly low voice - Fiona Bruce meets Victoria Coren - she's a dead ringer for Myleene Klass (who is duly ridiculed), and she can really act. Lorna Watson is blond, brittle and has to work harder for laughs. Their opening gambit was a direly old-fashioned bit of sub-Morecambe & Wise before-the-show backchat, but, once they settled down, their sketches were inventive and unusual. In a spoof of a TV Jane Austen serial, the mob-capped duo tittered like six-year-olds about pin cushions to a pair of bored Mr Darcys, then switched abruptly to double entendre. ("Our dance cards - we eagerly await the filling of our slots by two special gentlemen.") A Victoria Wood-style pastiche of 1950s ladies' kitchen conversation - all pinnies and hair-rollers - was surreally punctuated by Watson's response-appropriate eyebrows. A greasy-spoon café became a symphony of shouts and orders in which everyone called everyone else "darling" - "Cup o'tea, darlin'?" "Keep the change, my darlin'" - until someone silenced the room by saying "Love". In what is clearly meant to be the show's signature sketch, the girls do their impression of Prince William and Kate tucked up in bed, unable to find anything to talk about except their wedding day. But couldn't they have found a better punchline subject than Pippa Middleton's over-prodded rump?

The best sketch imagined two Playboy bunnies squeaking competitively about how pink their living quarters were, how appealing their fake boobs, how delightful their lives, until they were summoned to cuddle up to the saurian Hefner. Between retchings, they competed as to which had a better excuse not to fulfil this noisome duty. It was a gift of a subject to these two funny, appealing women, and they seized it with unladylike glee. I look forward to seeing a lot more of them.

The Impressions Show saw Debra Stephenson miss two open goals with Hilary Devey and Tulisa. But with her physique, her Mary Portas, Claudia Winkleman and Fiona Bruce were exactly like the real thing - only foxier.

Jon Culshaw on the other hand was such a car crash his impersonations were more fascinating. His 'Bruce Forsyth' was bang on - if it had been Alex Ferguson, while his 'John Bishop', was the spit of Laurence Llewelyn Bowen. Final score? Debra Stephenson 5 - Jon Culshaw 0.