John O'Farrell

Newzoids could be the political comedy we need

It's more difficult for a satire show to shock today than in the 80s. Maybe it should claim politicians are honest and hardworking.

Can comedians ever be taken seriously?

In the past week, two comedians have stood for election - Beppe Grillo in Italy and John O'Farrell in the UK's Eastleigh by-election. What are the pitfalls of putting your money where your mouth is?

What I see in the mirror: John O'Farrell

'I have laughter lines from watching other people's comedy and worry lines from rereading my own'

As Griff Rhys Jones made much of the phrase "unexpected item in baggage area", in an unexpected one-off celebration of, well, him. This was old-fashioned sketch stuff, none the worse for it really but therefore traditionally hit and miss, but his "unexpected item in baggage area" was the second-best bit. Rhys Jones's slumpy hangdog angry-old-man shtick gets better as he gets older (possibly aided, I seem to remember, by a period of depression) and never more so than when having to deal with, basically, a greedy robot programmed by a moron. There was also - this was the best bit - a reunion of Rhys Jones and Mel Smith, doing their men-in-white-shirts-blathering face-to-face stuff, which was very subtly scripted by John O'Farrell and reflected the real-life schism between the two, begun 16 years ago and now, at least face-to-face, resolved. Tantrums can, with age, become wearying.

Coming soon - a satire boom?

New Labour didn't escape mockery, yet the most biting satire of the past 10 years was aimed not at politicians, but at the uneducated working class, says John O'Farrell. So, does the Clegg-Cameron coalition spell a reawakening of political comedy?

Based upon the novel by John O'Farrell, May Contain Nuts is a light but effective satire upon the middle-class obsession with education.

When it becomes clear that their eldest daughter Molly will never pass the entrance exam to their private school of choice, Alice and David Chaplin resort to extreme measures - Alice will disguise herself as an 11 year old and take the exam for her.

"Nobody notices ugly children," reasons David and Alice is dressed down accordingly, complete with lank hair, thick-framed glasses and stick-on spots. Crucially, for the drama, Shirley Henderson as Alice is actually pretty convincing in the disguise.

The world's gone mad. Here we have ITV adapting a John O'Farrell novel, which on paper at least would seem to be a very BBC sort of project, while the Beeb are busy giving us Hope Springs, a new Sunday night comedy-drama hybrid thingy from those smashing folk at Shed Productions, home of quintessentially old-school ITV telly such as Bad Girls and Footie Wives.

Of course, the fact that Hope Springs is silly beyond belief shouldn't matter a jot - indeed in these capable hands I'd consider it an asset - but enjoyment of the story of four female ex-cons whose final heist goes so wrong (a stolen diamond necklace is never going to be a girl's best friend) that instead of boarding a plane to Barbados with a few million quid, they end up on the lam in a small Highland village (which may or may not be adjacent to Monarch of the Glen's Glenbogle but apparently shares its inhabitants) is seriously hampered by further casting dementia in the form of another yeasty spread of an actress, Alex Kingston.

No such one-upmanship in May Contain Nuts, ITV's two-part adaptation of the John O'Farrell novel and the final mainstream comedy offering of the night. Oh, who am I kidding? It's Clapham for goodness sake, of course it's competitive. What else do you expect from life in London's most bourgeois suburb? This is Keeping Up Appearances ("don't say what darling, say pardon, we're speaking French") for the New Labour generation. Or should that be New Tory? I've lost track. Talking of Tories, this was pretty funny: one of the families had a "scare-chav" (something to do with a scarecrow; it isn't important) whose face, according to Mum, "looked like a startled child". Cue Dad: "Yes, we modelled it on Cameron." Not Dave, though, their son, Cameron. Ba-boom-chh. Mm. Perhaps you had to be there?

Anyway, in Clapham, it's very important indeed that your child goes to Clapham School for Girls, even if it means dressing up as your daughter to do the exam. Under no circumstances do you want them to end up at Clapham Comprehensive, with all its underage sex, and drugs and, you know, equality otherwise - who knows? - they might end up working street corners in exchange for heroin, or something like that.

And so proceeds ITV's version of what might loosely be termed satire (I'm sure that's what the writers think it is anyway). Except that it's not really satire, is it? There are plenty of wink-wink-nudge-nudge-look-how-silly-modern-parents-are moments but it's all a bit hammy and ornate; there's no bite to speak of. And isn't the whole laughing-at-the-middle-classes-with-their-organic-lollypops-and-vegetarianism a bit predictable now? It's been done. And done, and done...

At any rate, these particular organic lollypop-eaters were far too annoying to warrant their own show, especially Alice (it's not in the name, honest), with all her bubble-wrap popping and wide-eyed whinging, though the other mums were just as bad. My vote goes to Alice's cross-dressing son. At least he's got character. But aside from Dave's fleeting cameo, there wasn't a joke to speak of. Just lots and lots of overacting.

Based on John O'Farrell's novel, May Contain Nuts took an easy target - the desperation of middle-class parents to ensure their little darlings get into their school de choix - and bludgeoned it with the proverbial sledgehammer. The idea was that mum Alice could only ensure mildly dim daughter Molly would get into the snooty college she'd set her heart on if she took the entrance exam herself - cue tiny actress Shirley Henderson disguising herself as a spotty 11-year-old girl and somewhat queasily arousing husband David (a wasted Darren Boyd) in the process. The major problem being it was hard to give two lacrosse sticks whether the daft mare pulled it off or not.

Some major issues of the day were touched on - such as the difficulty of locating running spikes for five-year-olds - but this bunch of self-obsessed boors should have come with an allergy warning.

Pushy, paranoid parents have long been an easy target for send ups. And this two-part adaptation of John O'Farrell's bestselling novel - quite rightly - doesn't cut them any slack. When Alice (played by Shirley Henderson, 44 - and, yes, her age is relevant) and hubby David move to a leafy enclave of South West London, they're quickly informed by a domineering uber-mummy neighbour that the local state school would confine their kids to the intellectual scrap heap and them to social wilderness. Cue Alice pulling on a school uniform (she's no Britney) to sit her daughter's grammar school entrance exams. Un-hilarious, but might raise a wry smile out of parents in similar predicaments.