Frank Skinner

The idea of a "revealing, behind-the-scenes" documentary about Russell Brand is quite an odd one - his whole persona, after all, is one of a person happy to expose and riff on, ad nauseam, his many failings. Here, Frank Skinner inter-views a post-"Sachsgate" Brand, a man who has evidently put in work recently to try to understand and intellectualise his compulsions. More interesting is Brand's sheer drive. Could it be his hair that is responsible? "Without fame," says the comic, "this haircut just looks like mental illness."

Documentary following the controversial comedian on his 2009 Scandalous tour, culminating in a sold-out gig at London's O2 Arena. There's also a candid chat with fellow comic Frank Skinner in which Brand opens up about his drug and sex addictions, and the matter of messages left on actor Andrew Sachs's answering machine.

Don't worry ladies, Russell isn't losing his largest organ. He's being interviewed by Frank Skinner and the programme makers have decided to make a past participle out of his name. Fans of comedy will enjoy the pair bonding in a room (familiar to TV Hacks as The Library at the CG Hotel) over the mechanics and art of being a comedian, but people wanting belly laughs will be disappointed.

The best moment is probably when Skinner tells Brand that he finds his womanising off-putting, because it has unpleasant results and doesn't sit well with his likeable persona. It throws Brand off his stride for an instant and that's when he becomes most interesting.

There's something of the sexy, oversized pixie about Russell Brand, a filthy imp who's infamously priapic yet desperately romantic, profoundly literate and articulate, yet mucky-mouthed. And he loves trouble. Brand hides nothing in this documentary as he talks to Frank Skinner of his former addictions to heroin, crack, cannabis and alcohol and of his realisation that they were killing him. "I used to like being smacked up, out of my mind... it was the annihilation of the self... there was nothing... [Being an addict] was demanding, debilitating and lonely."

I won't apologise for the fact that I love Brand; he's a magnetic, fearless performer with a brilliant wit. But it's when he's at his most introspective that he is at his most interesting. Revisiting his home town of Grays in Essex, he speaks for everyone who ever came from somewhere dull when he says: "My identity was formed by not being part of it."

After a certain pre-recorded Radio 2 programme generated a record amount of complaints after being eviscerated by the Daily Mail, Russell Brand jumped before he could be pushed and has been fairly quiet on British television screens since. This hour-long programme could spell the start of his rehabilitation, mixing elements of his live stand-up routine with some behind-the-scenes footage and, more importantly, a revealing interview with Frank Skinner.

Chain Reaction (Radio 4, Tuesdays, 6.30pm) has been the highlight of my late-summer listening. Through it I've come to like Frank Skinner, discovered that Eddie Izzard can still throw aside the ponderous trappings of Hollywood semi-stardom and be himself again and found, in Alastair Campbell, a charm that he managed to hide so successfully during his years as Tony Blair's minister of propaganda. And every week I've told myself that, this time, I'll resist the temptation to write about it here and focus instead on the new.

But then last week Campbell only goes and interviews Alastair McGowan and all best intentions exit stage right. Last Tuesday's Chain Reaction was probably the best of the series so far, as McGowan gave a masterclass in how he does what he does so well. Slipping from one voice to the other, frequently during a single sentence, he analysed how they came to be. The Nerd Voice, for example, which he was already using as a generic, suddenly acquired a real-life person to attach it to: John Major. "The reason why it's the Nerd Voice," he said, "is because it's completely devoid of emotion and heart.

"Technically, it derives from the back of the throat, which is also used by Brian Perkins" - changing gear ever so slightly to become the legendary Radio 4 newsreader - "but Brian has a connection with his chest, so you have this wonderful, resonant open voice, while Major" - shifting the voice a couple of inches upwards - "is stuck in the throat, so he's cut off from feeling.

"Michael Heseltine," he continued, on a roll now, "had a fabulous oratory voice. He had a trapped 'R' and he couldn't speak properly, but when he really got going he was trapped and there was a little bit of shyness there and there really was a great power to it."

And by God he was right. So simple, and yet so intricate. "There are places the voice goes to," he summed up, "and the deeper it goes, the cooler you are."

Prompted by Campbell, McGowan gave us his Tony Blair, which derives much of its authenticity from the former PM's habit of replacing his "I" sounds with "U" sounds - "Uff the Honourable Member thunks..." but confessed himself stymied by the next PM, David Cameron: "Just sound posh and whisper."

But of course, McGowan is best-known, not for his political voices - Rory Bremner has that covered - but everything else. David Beckham, for example, is an unconfident Stuart Pearce, and when McGowan segued from one to the other you saw exactly what he meant. The same voice, but with a different man behind it.

Look, the latest series of Chain Reaction will soon be naught but a beam in the eye of memory (McGowan talks to Simon Callow today; should be interesting), and I'm going to write about something else in a minute, but there was one last McGowan moment to warm our way into winter. "I've recently discovered Neil Oliver, of The One Show," McGowan said, in Scots character, "and one thing I've noticed is that he's really passionate about everything he does, but he really has to keep his passion under control, because if he ever gets carried away with it, he's just going to turn into" - mid-sentence segue - "Billy Connolly!" The mind's ear caught the connection and thought 'I could do that.' As if.

Eddie Izzard is never off the wireless lately. Last week he was interviewed by Frank Skinner, now he's quizzing Alistair Campbell, once chief spin doctor to Tony Blair and terror of the BBC, now more of a wandering minstrel. Izzard starts off with how the Clan Campbell got its appalling reputation, what it was like for a Campbell to grow upin Keighley, what differentiates a busker from a street entertainer, being a swot, going to Cambridge, trying his hand at pornography, having a nervous breakdown. I think I've heard most of this before. Too often.

Just time to revise my view on Radio 4's Chain Reaction. This week's interview with Eddie Izzard by Frank Skinner was excellent: funny and revealing. You forget that Skinner used to have a chat show. Though I'm not saying it should be brought back, mind.

And now let's recommend another comedy series that is hardly in the full blush of youth: Chain Reaction (Radio 4, Wednesdays, 6.30pm), which this week will be half-way through its second series. The format is simple: the interviewee in the first programme becomes the interviewer in the next, and so on until the interviewer in the first becomes the interviewee in the sixth. The conversation may range freely, but always starts from the same point - the comedic style of the interviewee. It works best when both are stand-ups - they're good at being automatically funny - and the series reached a peak last week, when Dave Gorman interviewed Frank Skinner.

It's easy to dislike Skinner. There's the football, the laddishness, the swearing, the pornographic stage show. Listening to Chain Reaction, though, it was just as easy to like him. This is one charming guy, as honest when discussing his financial troubles - his life savings took a bit of a hammering when the American bank in which they were residing went under - as he is frank (it's the only word) about his sex life. It takes a very un-laddish lad to admit that the disadvantage to three-in-a-bed sex is the occasional clash of heads and the constant fear, on the part of the man, that the women are whispering about him, and giggling.

He can also tell a story about his straitened upbringing without coming over all Angela's Ashes. Yes, it took some time for the Skinner family's council house to acquire an inside toilet, but when they did his father was not impressed. A toilet inside the house? That sounded unhygienic. And as for the bath, well, the young Skinner bathed only once or twice a year. "Why should I? I didn't have a sex life at the time." Tomorrow's programme is even better - Skinner interviews Eddie Izzard.

Comedy probably divides opinion like nothing else - what one generation finds rib-tickling, another can find unfunny, even distasteful. Having started his stand-up career in Edinburgh back in 1987, some might consider Frank Skinner a somewhat fossilised funster now compared to the new, young names on today's circuit. But, during Radio 4's Chain Reaction, it's clear that fellow, albeit very different, comedian and guest interviewer, Dave Gorman, has a healthy respect for the banjo-playing Brummie as he reflects on his love of live performance, football and even outdoor toilets. Dubbed a comedian of the lad culture age, Skinner admits success could have easily made him complacent now he's hit middle age and got money in the bank, but seems determined to try new avenues of comedy.

Growing up, he reveals, he wanted to be a cowboy, footballer or a pop star. Having recently rediscovered his musical bent, all he needs now is to adapt an old George Formby song and he could be storming the charts again, like when Three Lions hit number one and made him a truly household name. The next Chain Reaction sees Skinner swap chairs and interview Eddie Izzard - comedic chalk and cheese if ever there was, not least in wardrobe and make-up departments.