Jimmy Carr

It began with an unprecedented third-party surge, with Channel 4 opening its campaign for the couch-potato vote 55 minutes before the two established parties - BBC and ITV - even got into the game. There would be, the announcer promised, "very strong language and adult humour", not something that had ever been delivered by the traditional coverage, and it was rapidly clear that the Alternative Election Night really did have fresh policies to offer.

They had Lauren Laverne and Charlie Brooker and David Mitchell and they had an anchor, Jimmy Carr, with a novel approach to clarification: take their beginner's guide to proportional representation, for example. "The easiest way to explain it," said the comedian drily, "is to someone who's interested and already understands it".

With the satire muzzled by broadcasting restrictions until polls closed, they filled the time with a special edition of Come Dine With Me - three politicians and a pundit competing in a hellish unpopularity contest. Derek Hatton cooked scallops with asparagus for Edwina Currie, Brian Paddick and Rod Liddle and the viewers watched aghast.

"They might as well have called that If You Only Had One Bullet", said Carr, not the last time in which he deployed a candour which would have been welcome on other channels. I'm not sure that anybody with a choice in the matter would have turned over at 9.55pm - for the fiesta of vacuity which fills the gap until the first significant result arrives.

As one of the closest election results in living memory draws near, Channel 4 have decided to adopt a satirical stance in the face of impending doom (a Tory victory) by inviting Charlie Brooker, David Mitchell and Jimmy Carr to lessen the blow. For anyone not voting Conservative it'll be reminiscent of having George Formby strumming away on his ukulele for the troops or Vera Lynn reassuring the public to "Keep smiling through, just the way you used to do/Till the blue skies chase the dark clouds far away".

Described by David Mitchell as being like "Big Brother but with posher people" you'll still be able to keep up with the results as they come in live whilst enjoying popular shows with an election twist.

Fonejacker will be making several impromptu appearances whilst Lauren Laverne, David Mitchell and Jimmy Carr share the role of compère. Most of the polls suggest its neck and neck as the three main parties race towards the finish line and some light comic relief might be exactly what this election needs before the sad reality settles in for whoever wins: it's going to be a tough couple of years and a fair while until the "skies chase the dark clouds far away".

With the advent of American-style televised debates, this election has already provided the leaders of the three main parties with ample opportunity to show themselves up. Should they have not done enough on their own, though, this "alternative" broadcast looks likely to finish the job. An ambitious four-hour live presentation, this aims to offer a satirical take on results as they emerge; David Mitchell, Lauren Laverne and Jimmy Carr present, with contributions from Charlie Brooker.

Channel 4, the rude kids at the back of the class, have decided that the only sensible approach is to go for laughs, so the likes of David Mitchell, Lauren Laverne, Jimmy Carr, and Charlie Brooker will be sitting in front of a live audience and taking the mick.

For those who are interested in the election but can't face endless analysis and Jeremy Vine's Swingometer, here's some light relief: live satire from Jimmy Carr, David Mitchell and Charlie Brooker, who will be riffing off events as they unfold over four hours, with Lauren Laverne adding sass.

The quartet will be joined by a bookmaker, while there will be some pre-recorded segments that include a Come Dine With Me election special featuring Edwina Currie. Wonder if eggs are on the menu?

If the excitement and drama proves too much, C4's Alternative Election Night (from 9pm to 1am) offers a more entertaining, less reverential take on events. It is hosted by David Mitchell, Jimmy Carr and Lauren Laverne, with contributions from Charlie Brooker. Highlights include election specials of You Have Been Watching and Come Dine With Me.

We, as you should, will be beginning election night with C4. Their Alternative Election Night is a kicking-off point, where you can watch Jimmy Carr deliver uncomfortable jokes about how ugly politicians are, Charlie Brooker deliver anger you can tell he no longer feels and Lauren Laverne make some vowels last an instant too long. The Election Special Come Dine With Me is infuriating and not just because of Brian Paddick's shirts and Rod Liddle's Julie Burchill-style provocateering. Comes to something when Edwina Currie is clearly the least annoying person on screen. Armando Iannucci is on at 10.

The phrase "celebrity roast" sounds like either an inspired idea for a bonfire, a romantic date with a footballer and his friends or some nightmare series, no doubt soon to be commissioned, in which minor soap stars share their favourite recipes. In fact, it refers to the practice whereby a group of comedians takes turns putting down a well-known entertainer as well as each other.

That's what the roast became in America, where it was popularised by Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr. Last week, we got the British version, A Comedy Roast (C4), in honour of, respectively, Bruce Forsyth, Sharon Osbourne and Chris Tarrant. For reasons of national morale, it doesn't do to dwell on the difference between those two sets of names.

However, the thinking appears to be that what the show lacks in personalities, it can make up for in vulgarities. Sometimes, that tactic worked under the caustic stewardship of Jimmy Carr, who looked as demonically thrilled as a class clown given permission to swear at his teachers. Carr was responsible for most of the moments of comedy that produced not a laugh, but a gasp, including a joke about Tiswas being the second biggest thing that Lenny Henry had ever been in.

More often, the coarseness was cover for an overreliance on the autocue. As much as he sometimes struggled with reading lines, Dean Martin was never known to resort to the c-word on US TV and nor, come to that, did anyone ever accuse Sinatra of mistaking breast milk for "man gravy". A dry roast this wasn't.

Yet the biggest failing was that no matter how crude the insults served by Jonathan Ross, Jack Dee and a variety of comedians, no one, including the guest of honour, had heard of, none could match the flame-grilled indignity of taking part in the show. A roast that was all sauce and nothing to savour.

There were some great lines on Bruce Forsyth: A Comedy Roast last week. For those who aren't familiar with this largely Yank tradition, it's when a decrepit entertainer is celebrated and mercilessly teased in equal measure by his peers.

"And we've got a list of celebrities here tonight that literally reads like a who's who of who was available," said Jimmy Carr, kicking off proceedings. "Many say a knighthood for Bruce is long overdue, after all, so many of his contemporaries have already been honoured," he added. "Lancelot, Galahad..."

But the best lines came from Sean Lock who had a pop at the 82-year-old, doddery-dubbed Strictly host who lives at a mansion in a secluded part of Surrey. "So secluded it seems that even The Grim Reaper can't find it," Lock joshed. "I mean, at your age it's fine to wander into your kitchen and wonder, 'What did I come in here for'? But it's not so great on live telly, Bruce," he added.

And if we're looking to invent new words and phrases, how about "Crap as A Comedy Roast"? You'd use it to describe something that was as awkward and contrived and joyless as Jimmy Carr and chums spending an hour taking the p*** out of someone semi-famous sat opposite them on stage.

"Roasting" is an American tradition: being brutally but lovingly rounded upon by your peers while taking it all with benign grace - think: This is Your Life, You Stupid T***. The US TV version of this features some of the most staggeringly lewd, vicious punchlines I've ever heard, the enormous capacity of Pamela Anderson's vagina, for example, being a recurring theme on hers.

So what was in store for Bruce Forsyth, Sharon Osbourne and Chris Tarrant? Uncomfortable oddness, really. Jonathan Ross visibly rattled Brucey with some opening salvos: "He wasn't a pretty baby," he tells the audience, "but he did grow up to be a f***ing ugly adult." What else? Oh yeah: "When the dinosaurs died out, he was taken in for questioning." Arf! The weird thing was that most of the roasters were just typical gun-for-hire, Channel 4-type comedian fodder. Paddy McGuinness did a nervous Who Wants to be a Millionaire? skit on Tarrant, who looked so prickly throughout that you suspect Alan Partridge would have taken a roasting better. Jack Dee slagged everyone off and looked sadder than usual to be doing it. There was one quite funny joke about it being hard to believe the real Sharon Osbourne is here tonight, "because the real Sharon Osbourne is in a black bin bag round the back of a plastic surgeon's in LA!. And she took it all quite well, mainly because she just hooted like as sozzled nan the entire time.

Maybe everyone else loved it. It just seemed weirdly open and honest. I thought the whole point of being British is that we repress our true feelings, so that when they do pop out they're disguised, perhaps in the form of a witty joke or a song or a droll suicide note. Alternatively, we could just stick to slagging people off behind their backs so that we don't have to pretend to hug them in front of Jimmy Carr afterwards. I don't think A Comedy Roast suits us. If someone can work out a passive-aggressive equivalent, however, we may be in business.