Frank Skinner

The format has been revamped. Frank Skinner is in the chair and, rather than chance the quality of an edition on a single guest, they've spread their bets across a panel of three, with Skinner determining which of their peeves - growing up, film and TV, etc - will descend into Room 101. There's a less whimsical, slightly harder edge to the guests' critiques; Danny Baker rails against "cool" with a written, prepared text dripping with bile, Robert Webb lays into Jeremy Kyle with undisguised scorn and even Fern Britton has a go at the homework heaped on today's kids.

This seemingly moribund series is rebooted with a new format and host, and, on tonight's evidence, it's got fresh legs. Frank Skinner takes over as presenter; and now, instead of one celebrity naming his or her bugbears, three panellists vie for their pet peeves to be banished to oblivion. The eight-part series kicks off with Fern Britton, Danny Baker and Robert Webb naming their bêtes noires, and Skinner deciding after each round which one deserves entry into Room 101. In the past, the series sank or swam according to how entertaining the guest was - here, the banter creates sparks, as Skinner deftly orchestrates the conversation with the same verve he displays in Opinionated. Refreshingly, the panellists aren't the same old faces on the circuit, and each gets a chance to shine: Britton raises the men's ire by criticising sci-fi, and Baker provokes the others by nominating TV panel shows. Future episodes are likely to prove edgy, too, with John Prescott and Germaine Greer lined up. The schedules groan with panel shows, as Baker rightly notes, but there's room for this light-hearted offering celebrating the joy of a good old rant.

Madonna's much-trumpeted appearance last week may prove a hard act to follow, but tonight's line-up looks more down to earth at least. Frank Skinner makes his second appearance on our screens this evening, after his debut turn as host of Room 101, and Kenneth Branagh turns up after pulling out of a guest spot last month. Scrubs star Zach Braff, who's about to take his first bow on the West End stage in a play he's written, completes the line-up.

One of the small pleasures of Room 101.1 was that you learned a lot about the people who were submitting things. It was an interview by proxy. No more, though. The BBC have decided to turn it into a panel show. Why not, eh? Well, despite that annoyance, this is actually a pretty good start. Three likeable people, Danny Baker (who tries to put panel shows "a virus - Jeremy Kyle that's been to college" in and wears disturbingly bright white socks), Fern Britton and Robert Webb put their ideas to Frank Skinner, who is extremely good at this kind of thing. Be warned, however, the audience are extremely excitable and liable to applaud absolutely anything.

Room 101 is reducing the numeral of its network, moving from BBC2 to BBC1, while increasing the number of participants. Whereas previous hosts Nick Hancock and Paul Merton quizzed a single celebrity about their little list of things to be eliminated, new chairman Frank Skinner has a trio competing to delete. Friday's first panel is Fern Britton, Danny Baker and Robert Webb.

This is a big alteration - a chat-show becoming a panel game - and the presumable justification is a move to a more mainstream panel, although the obvious risk is that a show which had a distinctive premise and form has been made to look like several others. Rather inconveniently, Webb will have been seen 48 hours earlier on BBC1 in the now structurally similar Would I Lie To You?

Frank Skinner: The top ten greatest comedy double acts

From one of the most quotable funny acts of all time to a duo who loved language, Frank Skinner chooses those comedians who have most inspired him.

A superstar in the 30s and 40s, George Formby has since become a figure of mockery; a byword for fusty music hall comedy. Frank Skinner, a huge Formby fan, sets out to rehabilitate public perception of the entertainer in this documentary, originally shown earlier this year. Skinner traces Formby's career, from his time as a jockey to the boom years as a comic, where his earnings would vastly outflank those of his contemporaries. There's a sad coda to this piece; Formby died of a heart attack in his 50s, leaving an ugly legal battle over his will.

Downton Abbey, an Old Etonian government, a striking workforce and rioting on the streets - it seems that class is, once again, dominating the headlines. And class is always a fruitful subject for comedians to kick against, which is exactly what they're doing in this one-off special. Frank Skinner is joined by cockney-made-good Micky Flanagan, 'salt of the earth' Roisin Conaty and Rev's well-heeled Miles Jupp to dissect the issue with some comedy chat and experiments in front of a studio audience.

Frank Skinner takes a light-hearted look at a topic the British can never quite escape - class. He's joined by comedians Roisin Conaty, Miles Jupp and Micky Flanagan, who embark on various class-oriented missions, before bringing their findings to a studio audience. Conaty goes on a date with a man who struggles with the concept of fish fingers, Flanagan tries to get to the bottom of Modern Art, and Jupp has his home counties accent softened to see if he can fit in at the local market.

Apropos of absolutely nothing, Frank Skinner hosts a vaguely awkward cross between a televised debate and a generic comedy panel show on the subject of class. Observations are made by Skinner (not posh) and guests Miles Jupp (posh), Micky Flanagan (not posh), and Roisin Conaty (not posh, so skewing the balance quite considerably), interspersed with each guest going out and doing something that makes them feel socially awkward.