Jack Seale

Something of a foolproof premise that didn't take a great leap of imagination to commission: celebrities come on and read from their embarrassing teenage diaries. They're famous now so it all turned out OK, leaving them free to rip into their former selves in the company of host Rufus Hound.

First up is Robert Webb, the comedian and actor who has a sideline in sarcastic voiceovers. He uses that skill to make the most of his more than usually pretentious and doomy musings, written in a bungalow in Lincolnshire in 1989.

The present-day Webb neatly sums up the adolescent impulse to document every day of existence despite a lack of events, ascribing it to "that delightful combination of insecurity and conceit that made me think this was the best way to have a decent conversation".

Radio Times review

A guide to the "Wales of the East", Norfolk, by the man who put Norwich on the chat map. Alan Partridge takes us to his workplace, his favoured newsagents and along his regular Thetford Forest walking route. It is, as the man himself says: ‎"A Partridge pilgrimage. A Partrimage. A Pilgrimartridge. A Partrimiligrimage." But he's also keen on Norwich's rich past, including Hitler's plan to give a victory address from the town hall balcony. Imagine that...

Partridge has evolved since Steve Coogan hooked up with co-writers Neil Gibbons and Rob Gibbons, architects of Alan's sensationally funny autobiography. He can be a vehicle for spoofery - the hysterical history-in-hindsight of Schama, Marr et al gets it in the neck - and, as credited producer/director, his editing hand is now visible.

But he's still thoroughly Partridgean. There's not a weak scene in the hour and many that are worth re-playing for superb nuances of script and performance, from the simple joy of Alan almost falling off a stile to some wordless moments of pathos that remind us he is almost real. Top drawer.

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As the panel show approaches 100 episodes, the host says it's "more fun" now it's less aggressive.

An "everyone goes on holiday" episode, which, like a lot of holidays, is meant to freshen people up but mostly makes their flaws more stark. Terry and Jan (Brendan Coyle and Lesley Sharp) have a break at home alone for their anniversary - an excuse for soppy nostalgia if they didn't already go in for that every week.

Reuben and Bell are at a spa to try to overcome their weirdly trivial relationship problem, despite Bel's annoying intransigence. Everyone else goes "wild camping" with Fergie, disastrously. That's by far the most entertaining strand but, as ever, even the cheesy bits are lifted by the superb cast. As Reuben, Ukweli Roach is particularly skilled at drawing laughs and pathos from a limited role.

Radio Times review

Sharon Horgan's BBC3 comeback - the axing of Pulling still grates with fans - has her behind bars as Helen, a fretting loser wrongly convicted of murder. Can she win freedom? Or is she (and are the viewers) in for a cold, frustrating stretch at a jail full of cartoon inmates and mad staff?

A lot of sitcoms fall back on everyone except the main character being a bumbling loon, which often feels like a way to con us out of the 3D creations that are hard to write but keep us coming back. Of course it's possible to do comedy that doesn't have any truth or soul if the jokes are outlandishly good but, despite a superb cast, Dead Boss struggles to reinvent incompetent lawyers and creepy screws.

Who really killed Helen's boss? The ongoing story arc is too silly to be believable, but not silly enough for that to stop mattering.

Dead Boss, BBC3 - review

Sharon Horgan seems to have randomly plucked her new sitcom out of the air, says Jack Seale.

Nina Conti: A Ventriloquist's Story, BBC4 - review

A documentary about putting old puppets out to pasture was an extraordinary, beautiful piece of confessional TV, says Jack Seale.

Russell Kane presents the sort of show we've all been crying out for: a showcase for various up-and-coming comedians.

Kane introduces sets from Joe Wilkinson (the scruffy oddball upstairs in Him & Her), Diane Morgan, Nick Helm and the Helmettes, and Totally Tom. We're promised music, short films and sketches as well as stand-up, with sketches tonight from Lady Garden, Jigsaw, WitTank, Humphrey Ker and Hari Kondabolu. That's a lot of names to squash into half an hour, so the pace should be quick.

This episode ends with a crane-mounted camera wistfully panning up and away from the action into the sky, while Days by the Kinks plays: the sort of cheesy flourish almost no programme can get away with. But Starlings does. I'd like to climb inside and live there.

Bell (the luminous Rebecca Knight) tries going back to work but misses baby Zak too much, while Gravy gets a girlfriend and Mum tries to write a short story but keeps getting interrupted. All that is deftly observed and offset with the right amount of wackiness: Grandad may have been bitten by a spider whose venom is hallucinogenic; Loz tries to join a commune because they only want £40 a week rent. All of it is cosy and convincing.