Jack Seale

A stand-up show by the star of Grandma's House. The theme is Amstell's inability to feel emotion without analysing it to death. The resulting spiritual journey took him to an all-nude pool in Amsterdam, a shamanic retreat in Peru and hipster parties in east London.

As he obsessively turns in on himself, the serious musings on the futility of modern life could turn the comedy to mush. They don't because the one addiction the vegan, teetotal Amstell can't shake is getting the rhythm and structure of a punchline just so.

The last full series of Armando Iannucci's blistering satire brought us a coalition government, carrying an innefectual junior partner and fighting a weak, disorganised opposition. But aside from the contemporary echoes, the show stuck to what's been its central point all along: that so much modern politics is a series of PR stunts and botches, conceived not to make the world better but to get or keep power. The hour-long inquiry episode was riveting, Roger Allam shone as the newly empowered (in theory) Peter Mannion, and Peter Capaldi's fearsome spin doctor Malcolm Tucker bowed out in a final episode to rank with any sitcom finale.

Peter Capaldi broke from the venom of The Thick of It to deliver this affectionate one-off comedy, a spoof documentary about the output of a fictional British studio in the early 20th Century. Clearly a labour of love for Capaldi and his co-writer Tony Roche, Cricklewood Greats was a stuffed stocking spilling over with subtle gags and perfect miniature parodies. Aimed squarely at film and comedy buffs, this was possibly the most BBC4-ish show of the year and all the more delightful for it.

The stringently funny comedy ends its second series with an episode that, in proper Christmas-special tradition, is twice the usual length and 40 per cent sillier. Ten-year-old Marcus (the freakishly good Jude Wright) auditions fellow pupils for a seasonal musical, with customary ruthlessness: "There are prisoners in Guantánamo being waterboarded who sound better than you..." Even his dad Tim fails to win a part, despite Darren Boyd unleashing a stunning singing voice.

When MI5 agent Tim's office affair with Caitlin (Rebekah Staton) is discovered, there are guns drawn and truths told. Back at school, a talent shortage on the big night means desperate time-filling, à la gourmet night at Fawlty Towers.

The definition of a slow-burn hit, this diffident black comedy picked up another armful of admirers with its third series - at this rate it'll sweep the 2017 Baftas. Life on the geriatric NHS ward staffed by nurses Den (Joanna Scanlan) and Kim (Jo Brand) and plagued by sniffy consultant Pippa (Vicki Pepperdine) was much the same. It was slightly worsened by increased outsourcing and management-speak but was still a case of making do, looking for small victories and, in the moments that give the series its tender heart, remembering that easing patients' pain is the point. Scanlan, Brand and Pepperdine's acting and writing was more assured then ever, with nicely woven story arcs never taking away the best thing about the series: it lets its realistic, ragged characters breathe.

People who just didn't get it weren't won over in the slightest by series two of the Kilcoyne sisters' micro-comedy. Those who appreciated the virtuoso performances of Alfred Molina and Dawn French, as a breezily eccentric middle-aged couple with a terrible shared grief, got their reward. We knew that behind their fussing and affectionate bickering was the pain of having lost a child - so when a typically funny and bittersweet storyline about Roger's previously unknown adult son ended with his grandson arriving and running gaily down the hallway, it meant a lot. It was the perfect way to end a nigh-on perfect mix of comedy and drama.

Ruth Jones's first solo project as writer and star was, at first glance, basically the Welsh half of Gavin & Stacey: in the small valley town of Pontyberry, the people were caring, unpretentious, slightly mad and joyfully dirty-minded. Lots of laughs there thanks to Jones's familiar, warm writing and an unfamiliar but excellent cast - on top of that, having a long series of 60-minute episodes allowed the drama to develop, as crumpled divorcee Stella (Jones herself) juggled romance, single motherhood and impending grandmotherhood. It was a pleasure to drop in on her once a week.

A mere pilot episode, but in our list because this was the show that finally harnessed and distilled the animal comic talent of Matt Berry. Previously best known as the mad boss from The IT Crowd (where Graham Linehan wrote his lines - here they were co-written by Father Ted's other creator, Arthur Mathews), now he was fruity actor Steven Toast. Toast's humiliations included auditioning for the part of a gay, corrupt detective in a prison visiting room (because the director had been sent down for making racist remarks on his previous job) and a howlingly funny scene where a voiceover job forced Toast to spend the whole afternoon saying one word over and over. Would Toast of London make a hit series? "Yes. Yes. Yes. Yeeee-eeeees. YES! Yes. Yes."

The Buzzcocks producers atone slightly for BBC2's achingly silly decision to cancel Shooting Stars: Bob Mortimer is your host for the seasonal edition of this still-funny music quiz. You can expect... actually, I've no idea what you can expect from Mortimer, that's why he's such a good pick. Captains Phill Jupitus and Noel Fielding, are joined by drum 'n' bass producer DJ Fresh, Melanie C from the Spice Girls, Him & Her star Russell Tovey and comedian Joey Page.

Up-and-coming TV presenter Michael Grade explains the evolution of a peculiar British cultural institution, in a lightly festive hour that begins with our host in full make-up, wig and tent-like dress. We learn how 18th-century impresario John Rich discovered harlequin shows were ten times more lucrative than Shakespeare; then how the specifics of a man delivering double entendres as a deliberately unconvincing woman gradually fell into place.

Grade chats with Gyles Brandreth, Richard Briers and Matthew Kelly about the demands of damehood. But the star of the show is Berwick Kaler, writer, director and dame of York's famous panto. The future of the art form looks safe with him.