John Robinson

"Fast-moving" is somehow still too slow a phrase to describe Not Going Out, a sitcom that doesn't physically move much further than a similar flat-based show like Johnny Vegas's Ideal, but does so at three or four times the rate. Lee Mack writes and stars as displaced Lee in the flatshare comedy, where tonight things take a potentially sinister turn when Tim returns from a work do with a pocketful of a suspicious powder. Not a lot of soul, but plenty of what US comedy writers call "yucks", so it's worth checking out if you haven't yet.

Things seem to be going pretty well for Mark this week - his relationship with Dobby is back on, and Soph is away, leaving him for the time being without parental responsibilities. Happily, his crippling sexual anxiety is there to fuel much of the comedy in this episode. Having invested in a sexual appliance and named it ("Kenneth"), he now wonders how to introduce it into the relationship. Jeremy is still faking an interest in culture to impress Zahra, but the big news tonight is that Super Hans has decided to give up drugs. "Even crack?" asks Jez. "But it's your favourite!"

We join Mark and Jeremy just after the end of the last series, on the maternity ward awaiting the arrival of Sophie's baby. You couldn't wish for a better set-up and not an ounce of comic potential is wasted. Each laughter egg hatches into a fully squawking, honking mirth bird; the cervical sweep gag in particular is a corker. Mark is Sophie's reluctant birth partner while Jez chats up a coma patient's girlfriend in the waiting room. And for all the foot-stamping, seal-clapping hilarity, you'll have actual tears at the end. It has no right to still be this good entering its seventh series.

Rather than a simple clip show, this is a specially-convened summit between Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie, together on screen for the first time in 15 years. It's hard to make much out over the gales of self-deprecation but, over 90 minutes, the friends discuss their working relationship and history together, vamping on some old themes for the benefit of the camera. Fry is never far from our screens, so the real revelation is Laurie, whose less widely exposed wryness is hilarious. At Cambridge the pair met in Fry's room. "A2," says Laurie, "also the Folkestone road . . ."

We're nearly at the end of another stunning series. Hilary's cracking down on ward hygiene with his "infection control avatar" - a lifesize cardboard cutout of Howard that says, "Now wash your hands" when anyone walks past it. And Den locks horns with Dr Moore over the need for Beedy to rush back from Edinburgh to visit her frail mother. Hilary, meanwhile, is busy scolding Beedy for staying past visiting hours. "We do empathise. But it doesn't matter. You'll have to leave." It's made with incredible subtlety, beautiful ensemble playing and Peter Capaldi's assured direction. But don't take everyone else's word for it, watch this and marvel.

It's a testament to the high regard in which Martin Clunes is held that TV producers not only think him capable of fronting shows on travel and animals, they also think he might be suitable as the reincarnation of one of TV's comedy greats: Reginald Iolanthe Perrin. Last year, Clunes debuted as an updated, less manic (though just as melancholic and sexually frustrated) Reggie, and while there were invariably some teething problems, the show created its own slightly surreal space. Not many would have banked on series two, but this is where you join us. After a work conference, Reggie has gone to the beach, determined to resolve his current situation.

Like the culinary artists it satirises, Whites is a sitcom that blends ingredients that are sometimes traditional, often subtle, but are increasingly surreal. Tonight's episode finds Roland, sous chef Bib and new arrival Skoose balancing a number of different plates. Bib has a narrow window in his schedule to deliver an offering to the fertility clinic, only to be thwarted by ducks crossing the road. Skoose lets power go to his head. Roland, meanwhile, finds he is headed for disaster when he dates a powerful woman, who has a disability (that he hasn't yet noticed).

Douglas is reunited with his wife, who previously disappeared during a mysterious car-washing incident. But it's no time at all before they're in front of a judge bashing out their divorce. There are so many brilliant flourishes here, from Douglas's court outfit to the silly Heston Blumenthal ribbing. Not to mention a sex tape featuring an exceptional impersonation of Bones from Star Trek. Even though this final episode is Douglas-heavy and Moss-light, it has arguably been the best series so far. They'd better do another one though, just to be sure.