Harry Venning

Mr Sloane review

Episode one afforded a leisurely 60 minutes in which to bed in. Future episodes revert to a more frantic half-hour format, which is a shame as it is a show that demands, and rewards, patience.

Harry and Paul's Story of the 2s delivered an affectionate kick to BBC2's groin, parodying the channels output over the last 50 years. This included Boys from the Blackstuff, Monty Python, The Likely Lads, Have I Got News For You, The Ascent of Man and even some of their own contributions. The fact that several of the shows in their sights were broadcast on other BBC channels didn't seem to bother the pair at all.

The satire was of the scattergun variety, but the targets were hit far more frequently than not, and there were moments of pure comic inspiration. My own personal favourite featured the Late Night Line-Up interviewee, slack-jawed, goggle-eyed and transfixed on the legs of Joan Bakewell - or Joan Bakewell Tart, as she was rechristened for the programme.

Welcome back LA-set sitcom Episodes for a third series, once again mixing satire and soap opera to effervescent effect. In fact, Episodes is so good that it is even helping me overcome my - admittedly irrational - aversion to Tamsin Greig.

I do have two small quibbles. First is the scarcity of my favourite character, the heroically vulgar TV producer Merc (John Pankow), who lost his job, wife and mistress at the end of series two. However, I am confident Merc will soon make a triumphant return, like some foul-mouthed phoenix, before this run finishes.

The second quibble, as a concerned licence payer, is the enormous electricity bill the BBC must be running up trying to light the Brit-based interior scenes to look like sunny California.

In a quiet week for new TV shows, it is always worth checking out what CBeebies has to offer. Boj is its latest new show - a bold, charming, vibrant animation set in Australia that follows the adventures of a bilby who burrows from the outback into the town of Giggly Park.

If Boj's dad sounds familiar, it is because he is voiced - and frequently sung - by none other than Jason Donovan.

What's a bilby? Look it up on Google. I had to.

To celebrate BBC2's 50th anniversary, the channel exhumed an hour of so-called hidden treasures from The Comedy Vaults, including un-aired pilots, cult classics and first television appearances from comedy legends such as French & Saunders, Steve Coogan and Billy Connolly. There was even rare archive footage of Harry Hill with hair.

Monty Python's Eric Idle was also on hand to puncture the general air of self-congratulation, suggesting BBC2 should actually be charged with crimes against humanity for losing or wiping so many tapes containing classic comedy episodes and performances.

One tape the station would have done well to lose featured the band Madness, starring in an eponymous sitcom written for them by Ben Elton and Richard Curtis. It would be hard to pick out one band member for opprobrium, as they were all so dreadful.

The third and final show in BBC1's revived Comedy Playhouse series was an ensemble piece set in a tiny, debt-ridden monastery.

Broad doesn't even begin to describe the comedy, and the characters rarely achieve the giddy heights of two dimensions. Yet there was something eminently likeable about Monks - not least the inclusion of several funny jokes, not always a given in a new sitcom.

However, the show is scuppered by the casting of stand-up comedian Seann Walsh as layabout, fixer and benefits cheat Gary. Put bluntly, he cannot act. Stilted in delivery and underpowered in performance, Walsh is asked to drive the several plot lines and just isn't up to the task.

The Dog Thrower misfired on almost every level. Continuing its policy of recruiting big-name actors to its small-scale dramas, the programme cast former Friends star Matthew Perry as the eponymous canine trainer/tormentor.

We first meet Perry in the park launching and catching his pet spaniel. At first, the spectacle attracts a curious and appreciative crowd, and even an imitator in the form of Tim Key and his mongrel. But an unscrupulous local journalist twists the story, turning their fame to infamy, and the pair of dog throwers quickly become social pariahs.

So full marks to writer and director Jon Ronson for originality. However, the decision to pare the dialogue down to an almost silent movie-minimum rendered the narrative incomprehensible, the humour clouded and the characters' motivations baffling. It was a gimmick that backfired disastrously, and that certainly wasted Perry's considerable screen charisma and comedy skills.

But, on a more positive note, The Dog Thrower did go some way to make amends by ending upon a very funny, and totally unexpected, visual gag.

There is just time highly to recommend Sky Living's Trying Again, a bittersweet comedy starring Chris Addison and Jo Joyner as a young couple trying to salvage their relationship following her affair with her boss.

The script is witty, the comedy is unforced, the characters are likeable and the emotions on display all ring true.

The second series of The Trip sends Rob Brydon and Steve Coogan around Italy in the footsteps of Byron and Shelley - albeit travelling by open-top Mini Cooper and luxury sailing ship crewed by shapely, twentysomething posh girls - for more semi-improvised adventures as would-be food critics.

Once I had wiped away the mist of envy from my eyes and choked back the bile of resentment that invariably rises whenever I see the licence fee used to send celebrities to exotic locations, I rather enjoyed The Trip to Italy. The concept is inherently self-indulgent, but the two stars are undeniably good company, and there is something pleasantly relaxing about the gentle pace at which it plays out.

There are moments of high comedy, as the pair play versions of themselves as incorrigible impressionist show-offs - if you ever wanted to know what Roger Moore playing Tony Blair interrogating Saddam Hussein as Frank Spencer would sound like, this is the show for you. But there are also beautifully observed exchanges from two performers far too skilled at improvisation ever to push too hard for a laugh. As a result, their onscreen comic chemistry comes over as spontaneous, authentic and rather touching.

Ostensibly writing a food column for the Observer, Brydon and Coogan travel, banter, bicker, dine, drink and trade impersonations on an endless, unhurried loop. The format hasn't changed at all from the first series, but the weather certainly has, and so has the menu. Italy, and its food, looks glorious. If, at any point, you should tire of Messrs Brydon and Coogan's babblings, you can always try watching the programme with the sound off.

Rob Brydon's legendary geniality is exploited as the host of BBC1's new Saturday-evening game show The Guess List, in which a panel of celebrities help two contestants to answer a wide variety of wacky questions. Sound familiar? It is so obviously a rehash of Blankety Blank, it is a mystery why they didn't just call it that and be done with it.

The celebrities, it has to be said, are top-notch. That is to say, I had heard of all of them. But having recruited guests of such high calibre as Jennifer Saunders, Simon Callow and James Corden, the show gave them practically nothing to do, while the host hardly let them get a word in. Brydon was manic to the point of hyperactive from the off, and never eased up for a second. It was as though he felt a single-handed responsibility to keep the programme going - yet the more frantic his efforts, the more uncomfortable the viewing experience.