Jo Brand

The "G"-series topic this week was "Germany", with guests Jo Brand, Rob Brydon and Sean Lock joining regulars Alan Davies and "QImaster" Stephen Fry. The juice of QI isn't as succulent as it once was, but you're always guaranteed some eyebrow-raising trivia and a few good moments of comedy banter. I'm frankly bemused Jo Brand still gets work (because she's like a comedy blackhole to me), and this episode wasn't helped by weaker than usual turns from Brydon and Lock.

Still, "Germany" was a topic that particularly interested me, as I used to live in Germany and once worked with a Germany lady living here in England, so cultural differences and Anglo-German relations is something I've discussed many times. It's certainly interesting subject matter for Brits, who have a strange relationship and perception of our European neighbours. In this edition of QI we learned that Germans don't care that England beat them in the 1966 World Cup, that they're unaware their countrymen have a reputation for rudely claiming sun loungers with beach towels while on holiday, and that they broadcast an old Freddie Frinton and May Warden comedy sketch called Dinner For One every New Year's Eve (simulteneously, on every channel).

BBC Trust rejects complaint over Brand's Thatcher gag

A complaint about a gag by comedian Jo Brand in which she claimed "Lady Thatcher" sounded like a hair removal device has been rejected by the BBC Trust. The body also decided not to uphold complaints about Brand's comments about incontinence which she made in the same edition of BBC1's QI earlier this year, which one viewer claimed were ageist and sexist.

Would I Lie to You? is a return of a series I would have bet hard cash would never be recommissioned. It's a quiz show whose only apparent point is to give part-time employment to comics whose stand-up is better sitting down, and Carol Vorderman. I thought I'd seen the end of this grisly equation of smugness, anger and pert pettiness, but I hadn't allowed for the half-life of quiz shows. The point of this one - and I use the word with a joyless laugh - is for the comics and Carol to tell us something that may or may not be a lie: "I once swallowed a comb" or "I have an irrational fear of balloons" or "My mother had no bottom". The hostage of all titles that contain question marks is that they incite answers. In this case, who cares? Who cares if you are lying? One had to go to A&E to have a Hoover attachment removed. I don't care, none of us cares. This show is neither remotely interesting nor edifying. It is science, and it is isn't entertainment. It's watching a dole queue of stupid under-achievers - except for Jo Brand, who is above criticism. She is the Florence Nightingale of sickly format and mortally wounded quiz shows.

Poor Angus Deayton has been dropped again. Rob Brydon steps into his shoes and very good he is too (much better than AD, who treated it as if he had somehow turned back time and was on the set of HIGNFY). Also good are the team captains: David Mitchell's natural habitat is the panel show and Lee Mack is naturally funny. Tonight's guests are Jo Brand and Russell Howard, providing back-up laughs, and Carol 'whaat now?' Vorderman and Larry 'do something about your son' Lamb are the straight men. It's never hilarious but it's always funny and less annoying than Mock The Week, so everyone should be glad to see it back.

Toilet humour. It isn't big and it isn't clever. But who cares when the brilliant Getting On, which I'm missing already, can turn the humble stool into a rich source of wipe-away-the-tears mirth?

This bleakly endearing geriatric ward comedy has only had a three episode run but richly deserves a full length series: with nurse Kim, sister Den and Dr Moore, writer/stars Jo Brand, Joanna Scanlan and Vicki Pepperdine have created an unforgettable trio. It helps, of course, if you like your potty humour wrapped up in a quilted loo roll of sophistication.

Taking revenge on neurotic meddler Dr Moore, Den decides to tamper with her precious report on patient faeces. A simple word substitution does the trick. 'What's another word for faeces?' queries Den. 'My youngest calls them plop plops,' offers Kim. Cue the following: 'The chart demonstrated construct validity for characterising stool function together with concurrent validity for characterising frequency of plop plops.' It cracks me up just typing it.

This, sadly, is the final episode of Jo Brand & Co's superlative series. Because it is based on mood, inflection and myriad flashes of acute observation, Getting On is almost as difficult to describe as a piece of music. Certainly there are headline events in each episode - tonight, for example, there is a "conflict resolution strategy meeting" and an argument about who won the raffle - but it's the interaction of the characters around these events that is so accurate and funny and wonderful. It is bound to be recommissioned; nobody would be mad enough to let something this good slip through the cracks. When that happens, I hope they continue to go for accuracy rather than leaning towards laughter, because it was the truthfulness that made it so extraordinary.

It's the final episode of Jo Brand's blacker-than-black comedy set on an NHS geriatric ward, and what a missed opportunity it has proven: only three episodes long and ferreted away on BBC4. Tonight, Brand's nurse Kim has to partake in a jargon-strewn 'conflict resolution strategy' after her bawdy humour hits a sensitive target, Den and Dr Pippa tie themselves in knots over who exactly has won the raffle prize (a hamper), and the stool research continues. Bleak but brilliant.

Getting On gets better. Somehow Jo Brand, Joanna Scanlan and Vicki Pepperdine have created a comedy about a modern NHS ward that is piercingly weird, coldly plausible, heartbreaking and hilarious. This week, a foul-mouthed racist OAP went on the rampage, delivering a bloody nose to the new male matron, who desperately tried to remember his stay-calm management training module as his nose bled.

The humour in Getting On is stealthy: the harassed doctor searched for her stool samples, hustled pathetically for a car-parking space and saw not that many patients - then looked at her lined face in the toilet and wondered where the years had gone. This moving reverie was interrupted by the head nurse rapping on the door, insisting that it should never be locked. The doctor she fancied, played by The Thick of It's Peter Capaldi (who also directs Getting On), looked past her at a much younger model. The comedy in Getting On is as wincing as The Thick of It, with the added pathos of near-death patients wheezing their last. Or not, as happened this week, with the sudden, vexing recovery of one.

Ward B4 is a backwater of the NHS, a place where old folks go to wither away and where the staff also look as though they have seen their best years. From this unremarkable setting, the three writer-actors - Jo Brand, Vicki Pepperdine and Joanna Scanlan - have created a gem of a comedy. They never overplay their hand, generally stay one step ahead and know that while a note of pathos is fine it still has to be funny. In this second episode, sister Den and nurse Kim have an abusive patient to deal with.

Set in a geriatric ward, naturalistically performed and filmed in a spartan, documentary style, Getting On might not sound the most inviting of comedies. Do not be misled.

Written by and starring Jo Brand, Joanna Scanlan and Vicki Pepperdine, Getting On is a gem of a show that somehow succeeds in being by turns cynical, compassionate, depressing and life-affirming. And funny. Did I mention funny?