Jack Dee

Radio 4's long-running The Unbelievable Truth, basically an update of Call My Bluff, seems to be the exception to the panel show rule in its capacity to entertain. This isn't surprising when you consider it was devised by the same people who dreamt up I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue. Granted, it has the same rotation of comedians - Jack Dee, Rufus Hound and Lee Mack were this week's guests - and is hosted by David Mitchell, a Stephen Fry-in-waiting who appears pathologically incapable of turning down work. But what it has going for it is an intellectual curiosity that this week turned up such invaluable facts as the radioactive properties of Brazil nuts, Florence Nightingale's love for her pet owl and Indonesia's 17 million boy scouts. The Unbelievable Truth wipes the floor with the competition. If only it could make the competition disappear altogether.

A rotating line-up of hosts used to make HIGNFY one of television's most unpredictable panel shows, but we're afraid to say that the show's become a little stale of late - as much as we love them, it'd be nice to have a break from David Mitchell, Jack Dee, Jo Brand et al. The last time we had a left-field choice of host was 2010's Damian Lewis, so we're excited to see how Downton Abbey star Dan Stevens performs in the hot seat this Friday.

Nobody adds more value to celebrity chat than Graham Norton. He creates a kind of cocktail-party feel, so his guests end up riffing off each other in unlikely ways. Anyone who saw his show where actor James McAvoy ended up in a three-way mind-reading contest with Liza Minnelli and Jack Dee will know what I mean.

McAvoy is back tonight: he tends to play sad roles (the wronged hero in Atonement, the young Charles Xavier in X-Men: First Class), but can be quick-witted on a TV sofa. He'll need to be to compete with fellow guest John Bishop. Arctic Monkeys provide the music.

The eighth series of the Reeves and Mortimer's cult panel show draws to a close tonight, having attracted respectable viewing figures of 1.5 m. Deadpan comedian Jack Dee appears to be at a disadvantage as he is joined by actress Tamzin Outhwaite and Primal Scream bassist Gary Mounfield, while Ulrika Jonsson gets stand-up Micky Flanagan and actor Charlie Higson for her team. But as the questions are nonsensical and the games bizarre, anything can happen.

Magicians pull out funny new tricks

Magic acts are reinventing the genre with show-and-tells, Facebook mind-reading and a 'young Jack Dee in a dragon suit'.

If you thought The Social Network told the definitive story of the birth of Facebook, Vic and Bob have other ideas.

Their film about Facebook's little-known roots in the 1970s is the highlight of another ­unpredictably mental half-hour.

On the receiving end of their surreal ribbing/bullying tonight are Waterloo Road's Mark Benton, the Mirror's own Tess Daly, Chris Packham and the fashionable Alexa Chung.

Conservationist Packham goes along with the joke - even after resident weirdo Angelos ­Epithemiou does ­something very unexpected to a robin.

Even team captain Jack Dee cracks a smile.

But poor Alexa looks like she wishes she'd stayed at home.

She might as well have done too - her contribution here is purely a decorative one.

Reeves and Mortimer's comedy has not dimmed with age and time - if anything, it has got more knobs and bells on than ever before, as this latest series of the surefire Shooting Stars attests. They have got the bonus of ironic-ish dancing girls this time round, as well as the familiar presences of Ulrika-ka-ka, Jack Dee and Angelos. Guests looking on in mute helplessness at the comedic fare include James "The Yorkshire Pudding" Martin and "Dennis - sorry, Brigitte" Nielsen, who, it is fair to guess, had probably not seen Shooting Stars before her participation in it.

Saturday night... The Marriage Ref. Last of the sizzling series. A landmark in television history. Will it come back? No.

But another rare chance to catch ubiquitous guest Sarah Millican and her dreaded Geordie wit. Which used to be quite funny... until she started appearing on every show in town.

"I can't believe you got divorced," gasped witless host Dermot O'Leary. I can. And I'm guessing Sarah's husband saw far too much of her. Like the rest of us.

Similarly over-exposed panel game favourite Micky Flanagan sighed: "I don't know why I'm here." Because Jimmy Carr and Jack Dee weren't around... and it was your turn on the rota. Same old faces... same old jokes.

As always, the ­contestants all loved each other deeply. But had some meaningless minor moan.

A dead show walking right from the start, this pointless pap was so ­stunningly dull it was shunted to a late night timeslot. Due to total lack of interest.

It's Friday night, the pubs have closed and you need some diversion. Nothing too taxing, mind, just a familiar treat, like a bunch of old comedy clips. And here's a cunning way to recycle classic routines and sketches: you intersperse the clips with modern comedians explaining how good they were. So Jack Dee tells us how Billy Connolly's debut on the Parkinson show in 1975 was an inspiration, not least for the tasteless joke Connolly told. The programme slightly ruins the joke by revealing the punchline at the start; and you wish it wouldn't keep cutting into Eddie Izzard's inspired 'learning French' routine so that Rhod Gilbert can enthuse. Yes, we know it's good! So let us watch it!