Harry Venning

W1A lends a further comedic lease of life to Ian Fletcher (Hugh Bonneville) from the hit sitcom Twenty Twelve. The former Head of Olympic Deliverance has been appointed the BBC's Head of Values, with Twenty Twelve's PR guru Siobhan Sharpe (Jessica Hynes) trailing in his wake.

The rest of the cast and characters are all new, but the mockumentary format, inane narration, understated performances and comedy of social embarrassment are retained from Twenty Twelve.

Episode one got off to a very strong start, with Fletcher ineffectually grappling with such thorny issues as Cornish under-representation, Clare Balding dropping out of a proposed Countryfile/Bake Off hybrid show and the total absence of any desk or office to work out of. However, he hasn't tried to close BBC3 down, so at least that's in his favour.

Inside No. 9 was never less than entertaining and frequently inspired, but the series of self-contained creepy comedy dramas saved the best for last.

Guignol doesn't come much grander than The Harrowing, an everyday story of a teenage girl hired to babysit a man possessed by the devil. "He who walks backwards!" explains the girl's employer. "Michael Jackson?" exclaims our heroine's ostensibly dim best mate, supposedly along for the ride but harbouring a hidden agenda all of her own.

The Walshes are a working-class Dublin family comprising cab driver Tony (Niall Gaffney), chatterbox Carmel (Philippa Dunne) and their two grown-up children, both unemployed, all living in a house too small to accommodate four adults, plus their neighbour, who is forever round fixing things.

It is this sense of claustrophobia that gives The Walshes its comic edge. Otherwise it would be a fairly standard family sitcom, albeit one with much better jokes, given the fact that Graham Linehan of Father Ted fame is one of the writers.

TV review: Jonathan Creek

All in all, it was well made, great fun, totally implausible and quickly forgotten. Mention should be made of Sarah Alexander's heroic efforts as Creek's wife Polly. Wife, girlfriend, partner or chum, his female sidekick remains one of the most thankless roles on television.

TV review: Edge of Heaven

For all its faults, the show is strangely likeable and passes an hour pleasantly enough.

I was rather lukewarm towards the first series of Blandings, based on the books by PG Wodehouse. However, series two got off to a cracking start thanks, in no small part, to the contribution of Harry Enfield. Enfield, a man not known to underplay at the best of times, left no scenery unchewed as the apoplectically lunatic Duke of Dunstable, the most obnoxious man in the country.

It is amazing what can be achieved in half an hour with just a great script, an excellent cast and a large wardrobe. Written by and starring Reece Shearsmith and Steve Pemberton, Inside No. 9 is a series of self-contained comedy dramas set in buildings or spaces numbered nine.

Episode one set a very high standard indeed, with an exquisitely crafted tale of jealousy, revenge, ambition, snobbery and murder centred around a country house game of sardines. With each new player discovering the hiding place, the wardrobe fills not only with bodies, but also hidden agendas, strained relationships, sinister backstories and rancid sweat (one eager participant, Smelly John, hadn't washed since he was a teenager).

No review of Shearsmith and Pemberton's work is complete without the adjectives dark and comic getting a mention, and I'm not about to break with tradition. But Inside No. 9 also offered poignancy, tension, intelligence, horror and several surprises. The lean, mean narrative didn't just twist and turn, it folded back upon itself to provide a totally unexpected, profoundly disturbing and deeply satisfying denouement. Even Smelly John's personal hygiene problem was revealed to be integral to the plot, rather than a mere comedy contrivance.

The writers also put in great performances as a bickering gay couple, supported by an impressively stellar cast that included Timothy West, Anna Chancellor, Marc Wootton and Anne Reid.

Comedy of the week has to be the spoof documentary series The Life of Rock with Brian Pern. Simon Day plays the eponymous narrator - a self-regarding, pretentious prog rock legend, whose career bears more than a passing resemblance to Peter Gabriel's - eliciting contributions from genuine rock stars including Rick Wakeman, Roger Taylor and Jools Holland.

Rock music's indulgences are an easy target for parody, with the mockumentary format a far from original approach, but The Life of Rock's combination of affectionate derision, pure silliness and a non-stop array of gags is very hard to resist.

President Richard Nixon - or, to give him his full title, disgraced president Richard Nixon - recorded almost all conversations he held in the Oval Office and it is these transcripts that provide the basis of the dialogue for Sky Arts' Nixon's The One.

Harry Shearer, of The Simpsons and Spinal Tap fame, takes the lead role - one he has honed over many years for the US cult comedy show Saturday Night Live - with Henry Goodman lending support as Henry Kissinger.

Nixon brags, rambles, whines and holds forth, while Kissinger fawns, flatters and, in one memorable scene, fumbles an uncomfortable and not wholly convincing explanation as to why a foreign journalist quoted him as calling his boss "a cowboy". Such is their depth of friendship that Nixon forgives Kissinger, and then orders his entire outgoing phone calls traced.

Those who prefer their viewing a little more visual might go away disappointed - the characters are largely chair-bound, it is filmed on a single set and the only discernible action is outside the window when a gardener shambles past. But for anyone wanting a fascinating, funny and slightly disturbing insight into the mind of the former leader of the free world, Nixon's The One is the one.

Live at the Electric is neither live nor, I suspect, filmed at 'the Electric', but a studio-bound attempt to recreate the atmosphere of a late-night comedy club. It mixes stand-up, filmed excerpts, sketches, musical turns and character comedy, with the occasional Muppet Show-inspired glimpse backstage to witness techies exchanging banter.

The quality of the material was very patchy, but no acts outstayed their welcome, the bill was eclectic and the overall impression left was a positive one.

Emcee Russell Kane delivered a caustically funny routine about his late, testosterone-filled father - a man who would shout "wanker!" at any fly with the temerity to land on his dinner - but the show was stolen by Roger Showbusiness, a stage hypnotist too paralysed by nerves to perform. It is an experience many Stage readers will have suffered, but few will have eaten a block of Red Leicester cheese at the same time.