Gordon Ramsay

DIs Armstrong and Dixon, from the Met's light comedy/drama squad, investigate the murder of one of the contestants on a TV cookery show - the themed crime scene comes complete with a message daubed on the wall in tomato sauce. Dixon is forced to go undercover as a contestant doing battle with Gordon Ramsay-like host Robert Randall, as well the other hopefuls, ultra-competitive oddballs who would kill to get a labour-intensive job where they are shouted at all day.

The impressions show with Morgana Robinson and Terry Mynott continues. The mimicry is good, especially Mynott's, but what they've found to say about their targets is disappointingly bland. Russell Brand talks like this. Natalie Cassidy's a bit dumpy. It's not enough. And there's got to be a less clunky way of introducing impressions than: "I'm Gordon Ramsay." We know. And if we can't tell, don't do the impression. Like so much that has gone before, VIP falls into the "sometimes clever but not that funny" category.

Brilliant impressions by ace mimics Morgana Robinson and Terry Mynott on Channel 4's passable new comedy offering Very Important People.

But the dazzling duo's alleged all-out attack on celebrity culture was about as hard hitting as Daybreak.

Therefore, it wasn't very funny.

How mortified must Gordon Ramsay be that Terry has noticed he swears a lot? Wow!

And Danny Dyer will be reeling after Morgana depicted him as a bit of a Cockney. Who knew?

Why spoil Mr Mynott's seamless Bear Grylls with far-fetched tosh about him doing a George Michael in the Gents? Hee hee.

What VIP needs to do is hit 'em where it hurts. Below the hypocrisy belt.

Eg... Gord Almighty pretending he was a crack-spear fisherman when he couldn't catch a cold.

Or born contriver Grylls tucked up in a warm hotel when he was supposed to be braving the harsh conditions of the wilderness.

In fairness... don't suppose Frankie Boyle enjoyed being portrayed as a nasty little troll. And Jonathan Woss's ongoing midlife "kwisis" showed potential.

Go for jugular. Simply copying self-satisfied stars is pointless...

From Spitting Image to Dead Ringers, satirising powerful public figures through mischievous impressions has been a popular shtick among British comedians. But Channel 4's new sardonically named sketch show, led by able newcomers Morgana Robinson and Terry Mynott, subverts the familiar blueprint. Like Bo Selecta's less surreal cousin, it opts to target C to Z-listers - products of ITV2 celebrity filler, the blogosphere and reality TV.

By design, this is a dangerous game, often relying on an audience obsessed with the kind of inane "celebrity" culture it seeks to send up. So while it's just about possible to relate to a sketch involving ex-EastEnder Natalie Cassidy in a faux reality show called I'm Doing This Now - "just hosing down the bins, really" - a mocked-up musical with Joe Swash and Stacey Solomon falls flat.

Ultimately, it's the humour involving better-known subjects - including uncanny impersonations of Gordon Ramsay and David Attenborough - which keeps Very Important People afloat. It's a brave experiment, taking a deserved swipe at vacuous popular culture norms. But will people see the funny side?

Another Masterchef winner duly crowned, John Torode and Gregg Wallace make history as they become the first ever co-hosts of Have I Got News For You.

They're not the first TV chefs to present the show - Gordon Ramsay had a crack at it back in 2006. But will it be a case, we wonder, of too many cooks spoiling the broth?

Gordon Ramsey turns Alan Partridge gag in TV show

Alan Partridge will be fuming. Gordon Ramsay has nicked one of his programme ideas - Cooking In prison.

Gordon Ramsey gets red nose job for Comic Relief

He famously spent an alleged £30,000 on a hair transplant, but Gordon Ramsay has spent just £1 on his latest facial improvement - a new nose.

However, fans of the fiery chef needn't be alarmed - it's all for a good cause, as Ramsay was sporting the very latest in conk-based accessories to promote this year's Red Nose Day.

When he announced his intentions to film a suicide-bomber comedy, Chris Morris made his feature- film debut even more of a hot potato than potential investors might have expected.

Surprisingly, though, Four Lions is quite a traditional comedy. It features likeable characters who might have sprung from a quaint Seventies sitcom, the only difference being that these guys make nail bombs, hate Israel and lament the rise of Gordon Ramsay. Set in the North of England, and played by a largely British-Asian cast, Four Lions tells the story of Omar (Riz Ahmed), a security guard in a shopping mall who dreams of Mujahidin glory. Aided by a white Muslim, Barry (Nigel Lindsay), Omar recruits a sleeper cell, then goes to Pakistan to visit a training camp, where he hopes to be chosen for a mission by one of al-Qaeda's emirs. Unfortunately for him, the project goes horribly wrong, and, unwilling to lose face, he returns to the UK claiming that the mission has been approved.

Here the film becomes the stuff of tabloid headlines. Using the format of an Ealing comedy, with tinges of Seventies farce, Morris delves into the shadowy world of terrorism with extraordinary fearlessness, making these incompetent would-be killers appear daft and strangely endearing. Ahmed, in particular, gives a nuanced and sophisticated performance: his character sees his heroism in the banal terms of The Lion King, and rails against the West while living in a nice suburban home, complete with an Ikea kitchen and fittings.

Given that every bomb in this movie eventually explodes, the grotesqueness of such bad taste is in the eye of the beholder. Here in Sundance, where the reality of suicide bombings isn't quite as palpable as it is in the UK, the crowds lapped it up.

Film-maker's comment: "I sort of feel in a weird way that this is a good-hearted film. It's not a hate film."

Why it will be a hit: Morris is at his jaw-dropping best, creating a warm, likeable comedy about a Muslim terror cell that professes to hate the liberal, Mini Babybel-eating West.

Nothing's really changed on the Chatsworth Estate as the seventh series begins. Glasgow kisses are two-a-penny, as are drunkenness, rampant sex and four-letter words that would make Gordon Ramsay blush. But this time there's also a birth (on the pub floor) and a homicide (over what looks like a plate of pie and chips). It's Frank's (David Threlfall) 50th birthday but, most unlike him, he doesn't join the party organised for him down the Jockey, preferring to neck whisky in his bedroom and brood about his life. It doesn't stay loveless for long, though. While he's doing his community service as a lollipop man, Libby the librarian (Father Ted's Pauline McLynn) literally falls into his arms. Unfortunately, Libby has a passion for romantic literature and tends to drone on "Byronically", while Frank's mind is focused on much earthier topics. But no one's perfect, and certainly not on the Chatsworth Estate.

For years now television experts have been handing out advice on how to cook, decorate, garden, dress, clean, save money and make love. There is no aspect of our lives that a tacky lifestyle programme made on the cheap cannot address, and the more colourful the presenter, the more popular the series. So here is a resumé of television experts down the ages, from Fanny Craddock and Sir Patrick Moore to Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen and Gordon Ramsay. As a collection of pretty ordinary clips, it is no better or worse than the original programmes. It is made bearable by the fruity wickedness of Brian Sewell, who goes down the list of experts being deliciously rude about everyone with scant disregard for the laws of libel.