Jack Seale

Looking for a clean, warm-hearted laughs? BBC1 has made viewers work for them, scheduling this family fare in a deathly slot where you need to stay awake past 11pm to see a whole episode. It's almost as if they regret commissioning it. They needn't worry: while Being Eileen doesn't start any comedy fires, it's solid, likeable and peopled by extremely good comic actors. Sue Johnston is the titular granny, supported by Dean Andrews, Julie Graham and the terrific Elizabeth Berrington.

This sitcom about two teenagers who are parents but definitely not a couple has found its groove in Series 2. It's bawdy but not gratuitously gross; sweet at heart but not too cheesy. It might be educating a few BBC3 viewers, too. You don't often see a sitcom episode built around the difficulties of, say, breast pumps and expressed milk...

This temporarily shelved documentary series reveals a side of some famous comedians that's rarely seen, largely because they'd rather it wasn't. It peeks into the murky world of corporate events, where a big name can earn more in a night that a struggling circuit comic does in a year. The pros' wildly varying attitudes to these gigs, and to starring in adverts, are fascinating - as is how managers earn comics huge sums for their regular work. Beneath the wry tone are serious questions about how principled artists should be.

One of those Radio 4 series that's just a comedian talking to an audience for half an hour each week - Susan Calman sustains this potentially saggy format much better than most. She chooses something she's passionate about, texturing her forthright opinion with anecdotes and utilising her ability to put laughs in the places you don't quite expect.

That week on TV: Black Mirror, C4

Charlie Brooker's dystopian futures aren't piercing the heart quite yet, says Jack Seale in his weekly TV review.

The return of a series that was binned after one episode last month - up against Africa on Wednesday night, it died on its backside. Now, in a less high-profile slot, it continues its exploration of the commercial end of comedy by looking at how managers and agents ensure that the nation's top comics earn pop-star bucks. Rhod Gilbert and Jo Brand, whose extremely candid interviews helped to make the first episode so engrossing, are back along with Eddie Izzard and David Baddiel.

Brian Cox has given life to a great new comic monster here, a man who blazes through life offending everyone in his path without ever losing his enormous self-belief. Neil Forsyth's comedy features the prize idiot previously known for his letter-writing in books and on Radio 4, who's now running chaotically for Parliament: Dundee cheeseburger magnate Bob Servant. Cox brilliant makes the most of an already very funny, bewilderingly silly script. "Phone the internet" and catch up with it...

It's school reunion time in Pontyberry, an 80s-themed event that cannily flavours all this week's events with just the right tone. One of the many girls with whom Stella (Ruth Jones) feuded is back, dressed as Krystle Carrington when almost everyone else is a pop star. These snobs always come a cropper.

The fancy dress theme achieves the trademark Stella trick of tempering emotion with laughs: Dai hits a new low as his marriage to Paula fails to fix itself, but he's dressed as Adam Ant throughout so it doesn't seem so bad. Most importantly, a reunion is about longing for the past. The romance that never died between open-hearted Stella and manly, serene Rob (Mark Lewis Jones) warms up again.

Ofcom rejects Big Fat Quiz complaints

Broadcasting watchdog declines even to investigate after 180 viewers shocked by rude jokes.

Stella herself is hardly in it this week - the ensemble is good enough to take the strain. Paul Kaye joins as a Dutch new age therapist who soon has half of Pontyberry sitting in a semi-circle listening to Tubular Bells. Once Dai Davies has put his pasty away and Auntie Brenda has shut up, top of the agenda is asking the universe to put the other Dai back on terms with his disaffected wife.

As Dai, Owen Teale is brilliant at both drunken self-pity and, in the therapy session, gushy optimism.