John Prescott (I)

John Prescott was once so rude to me when I was a reporter on a local newspaper that, even 25 years later, I can still hear him screaming. He will definitely go into my Room 101.

Lord Prescott, as he is now, of course, wants to dispose of gurning press pictures of himself that make him look stupid, and footballers' silly goal-celebration dances. Oh, and the title "Lord".

Rebecca Front doubtless speaks for good-mannered people across the land when she says she would banish other people's music (leaky headphones, cab drivers playing power-ballad music stations), while Micky Flanagan can't stand celebrity chefs and Americanisms.

This seemingly moribund series is rebooted with a new format and host, and, on tonight's evidence, it's got fresh legs. Frank Skinner takes over as presenter; and now, instead of one celebrity naming his or her bugbears, three panellists vie for their pet peeves to be banished to oblivion. The eight-part series kicks off with Fern Britton, Danny Baker and Robert Webb naming their bêtes noires, and Skinner deciding after each round which one deserves entry into Room 101. In the past, the series sank or swam according to how entertaining the guest was - here, the banter creates sparks, as Skinner deftly orchestrates the conversation with the same verve he displays in Opinionated. Refreshingly, the panellists aren't the same old faces on the circuit, and each gets a chance to shine: Britton raises the men's ire by criticising sci-fi, and Baker provokes the others by nominating TV panel shows. Future episodes are likely to prove edgy, too, with John Prescott and Germaine Greer lined up. The schedules groan with panel shows, as Baker rightly notes, but there's room for this light-hearted offering celebrating the joy of a good old rant.

The nostalgic can wallow in plenty of retro-fare this Christmas, from old Morecambe and Wise specials, by way of Tommy Cooper repeats and this splendid profile of the poker-faced comedian who was still selling vacuum cleaners at the age of 38 when, in 1967, he had one last throw of the dice and entered Opportunity Knocks. Dawson's deadpan humour is appreciated here by John Cleese, Robert Webb ("it's quite easy to play the piano badly and not be funny") and Russell Kane ("some of us younger people did muddle him up with John Prescott"). Touchingly, Dawson stopped cracking mother-in-law jokes when his wife's mother died.

Channel 4's 10 O'Clock Live does show some signs of structural adjustment, which, coincidentally or not, address objections made by reviewers of January's opening programme.

Critics complained, for example, that the content was relentlessly verbal - with Jimmy Carr, Charlie Brooker and David Mitchell delivering exaggerated rants in rotation - and, in the progress to last Thursday's 12th edition (of a scheduled first series of 15), the visual material has progressively increased. Carr's opening monologue is now illustrated with punningly captioned pictures, and the comedian also performs more and more dressing-up sketches.

Two flaws, though, are stubbornly consistent. Lauren Laverne, whose original duties amounted to little more than introducing the boys, has not been permitted much evolution, and the first show's unrelieved liberal agenda continues: the four main performers, the majority of the guests and most of the audience seem to be on the same side over most of the issues.

Even so, I think this show can justifiably claim to have suffered at the beginning from the seeming eagerness of some journalists, bloggers and tweeters to see Carr, Mitchell and Brooker flop: late-night satire shows have generally launched newcomers, and there was a slightly smug sense of a celebrity benefit concert about this one. But, three months on, 10 O'Clock Live maintains a high gag rate and, last week, a terrific bust-up over phone-hacking between John Prescott and a News of the World journalist.

This panel show began its forty-first series this week, and as usual it features a lot of things that we're all familiar with: Ian Hislop's in-depth political knowledge, Paul Merton's extraordinary improvisational abilities, a biased scoring system and rubbish but amusing pictures to keep the cost of making the show down.

Typically there were some good moments in this episode, hosted by Jack Dee, like Hislop's gag about Obama supplying light sabres to the rebels.

However, much of what was covered has already been featured in other programmes like last week's edition of Russell Howard's Good News, including the house that looked like Hitler, the Michael Jackson statue and Wayne Rooney's swearing. While the move back to Friday will no doubt please many viewers it does mean that other satirical comedies get to the stories first, so in a way it feels like the jokes are being repeated. Then again, they do cover some stories with more depth than other shows, so they get points for that.

The main problem that I have with HIGNFY - and indeed most satirical comedy shows - is that very often the jokes are just too lazy. All they have to do is find a single oddity about a person and they will keep making the same jokes about that person forever, or until they find an even better oddity.

We saw the same jokes tottered out again: Russell Brand and Silvio Berlusconi are lecherous; Sarah Palin is stupid yet sexually appealing; Eric Pickles is fat and so on. I loathe this lazy writing, especially the fat gags. For around 15 years we have had to listen to the same old jokes about John Prescott being fat and grumpy, and now that he has gone we're going to have to listen to the same gags again, but now with a different target.

Of course the thing you have to remember is that now we have a Tory government in power, so satire should be easier anyway. I have my own personal theory about satire, which is that there is always a satire boom in comedy whenever a right-wing government is in power.

In the 1940s, Charlie Chaplin made The Great Dictator, probably his greatest film. In the early 1960s you had the satire boom under Harold Macmillan and Alec Douglas-Home with shows like Beyond the Fringe and That Was The Week That Was, which soon fell after Harold Wilson came to power in the late 1960s. In the 1980s you had the alternative comedy boom and Spitting Image. In the 1990s Drop the Dead Donkey and HIGNFY began during Thatcher's final days, with Spitting Image finishing the year before Blair came to power and DDTD finishing the year after. In the 2000s, America had shows like The Daily Show and The Colbert Report under George W. Bush. The only problem is that no-one was expecting the Lib Dems to come into play.

Still, HIGNFY is enjoyable. It's not going to bring down the government. Mind you, with the Conservatives in power, would they want all that good material going to waste?

John Prescott reads shipping forecast for Comic Relief

John Prescott is to read the shipping forecast on Radio 4 for Red Nose Day - after Labour's former deputy PM joked about it on Twitter.

Allegations of sleaze scuppered affable comic Jason Manford's recent move into the mainstream, leading to his hasty resignation from the BBC's The One Show. Tonight's mix of music and comedy shouldn't frighten the horses, though. Manford is joined by Al Murray's Pub Landlord character and laid-back British-Nigerian comedian Andi Osho. Funk star Jamiroquai and mellow singer-songwriter Rumer (who recently won John Prescott's approval) provide the music.

In the style of Mock The Week, with guests straight off Have I Got News For You and a format borrowed from that other topical debut of the week, 10 O'Clock Live, this new panel show has launched itself in an already overcrowded genre.

And with in-depth discussion of Jordan's latest failed marriage and in-depth handling of some stress-ball breasts, That Sunday Night Show clearly had its brows aimed significantly lower than any of the aforementioned shows.

In this episode, Kevin Bridges, Catherine Tate and John Prescott joined host Adrian Chiles to discuss everything from Ricky Gervais' performance at the Golden Globes to the suspension of the Education Maintenance Allowance for young people, as the emollient Max Clifford and Piers Morgan were wheeled on to comment.

But if the range of topics covered was impressive, the profundity with which they were discussed was something else, as the time constraints of the show allowed only for a cursory glance to be cast over each of the subjects.

So, with the comedy already covered on 10 O'Clock Live, interviews carried out competently on Piers Morgan's latest venture and the serious stuff sorted by Have I Got News For You, can there really be any place for this slapdash and skin-deep attempt from ITV? Unless it changes its tack, this show will find itself superfluous to requirements pretty quickly.

Daybreak may still be finding its feet, but this post-watershed magazine show seems a better fit for Adrian Chiles's wry sense of humour. Tonight he takes another sideways look at the most interesting stories of the week with two guests likely to deliver piquant views: comedian Catherine Tate and former Deputy Prime Minister John Prescott.

The best resurrection of the undead came in Craig Brown's Lost Diaries, which assembled a formidable clutch of impressionist talent, including Rory Bremner, Alistair McGowan and Jan Ravens, to deliver gobbets of satire on figures who may have vanished from public life, but burn brightly in collective memory. There was Edwina Currie's diary on her trysts with John Major: "'Essentially,' he coos, 'these proposals for renewing the essential health of our domestic economy are the same as those I previously mentioned.' 'Go on!' I beg him." There is John Prescott, whose malapropisms and bulimia are a gift, and Antonia Fraser on Harold Pinter's poem about Humpty Dumpty as a denunciation of the Bush regime. "Serves you bloody right for being an egg, chum!" Antonia records that, "Both mummy and daddy had their eyes closed in immense concentration." Bliss.