Jon Culshaw

Jon Culshaw interview

Nearly 20 years after spoofing John Major on Spitting Image, impressionist Jon Culshaw pokes fun at new generation of stars including Alex Salmond.

Jon Culshaw and Debra Stephenson interview

Impressionists Jon Culshaw and Debra Stephenson will be providing some of the voices for ITV's new puppetry satire show Newzoids, so we caught up with them to chat about the series...

Tune into ITV's hilarious new satirical puppet show

A profile of Newzoids, including an interview with voice actors Debra Stephenson and Jon Culshaw.

Radio Times review

The team returns for a festive edition of the classic impressions show, this time putting a yuletide spin on some very unseasonal programmes. Jon Culshaw, Jan Ravens, Duncan Wisbey and company send up a cosy, snow-sprinkled special of Crimewatch, while also taking a look at some snowman-shaped abnormalities in Embarrassing Bodies. This Christmas, no one will be spared.

Jon Culshaw & Debra Stephenson on Dead Ringers' return

Britain's best-loved impressionist Jon Culshaw and partner-in-comedy-crime Debra Stephenson spoke to This Morning about their new series of Dead Ringers.

Radio Times review

When an impressionist has such a distinct face, sketches can fall flat on television, no matter how uncanny the voice. The same could be said of Jon Culshaw and Debra Stephenson, so a return to radio should bode well.

I have to say, however, it's a mixed bag. The John Craven skit was by far the funniest, where he's challenged to sex up Countryfile à la cult US show Breaking Bad. "Have you ever cooked crystal meth?" asks a terribly posh female TV exec. Ironically, the impersonation of Craven is probably the least accomplished in the programme.

Not so the ones of Alan Bennett, Jools Holland and William Hague, whose vocal quirks are caught to a T, though the scripts could have been tighter. In all, the show leaves a satisfactory, if not great, impression.

TV commissioners take note. Impressions aren't funny. The actual act of sounding like someone else is an impressive skill, especially if you can do more than one, but by themselves, impressions are not in the remotest bit amusing. Jon Culshaw may do a canny Tom Baker, but the mere act of sounding like Tom Baker is about as humorous as getting stuck in a lift. With Jon Culshaw.

So it was refreshing to see Terry Mynott bringing something very different to the TV impressions table in his rather bleak new sitcom The Mimic.

Dour, slow and not the cheeriest of concepts, The Mimic doesn't scream hit. The tale of maintenance man Martin Hurdle, who muddles through life with only his uncanny ability as a mimic to perk himself up, isn't a gag-fest. It ekes out jokes and woos you in with pathos and the likeable Mynott.

It wasn't the most sure-footed debut, but purely for bravery and trying something different, I'm willing to come back next week. Mynott could knock out 27 minutes of Terry Wogan and Ronnie Corbett impressions, but he's tested new waters here and his exploration of the mundane, outsiders and the ordinary showed brief glimmers of potential.

And the fact that he didn't just wheel out a Tom Baker impression means that I'm willing to give those glimmers a chance.

If, like us, you're of the opinion that impression shows got a bit stale the thousandth time Jon Culshaw declared "My fellow Americans" on Dead Ringers, then you might appreciate the new take on the comedy sub-genre offered up by The Mimic.

Terry Mynott is the star of this not-entirely uplifting sitcom, playing an unremarkable maintenance man with a hidden talent for celebrity impressions. From Terry Wogan to Morgan Freeman, he can be pretend to be pretty much anyone - but he's soon brought back to reality when he discovers that he may be the father of his ex's 18-year-old son.

The second series of this sitcom has intimations of a soap; despite being set in the world of espionage, this takes a back seat to day-to-day romantic and family intrigues. A strong cast is headed by Darren Boyd as Tim, whose precocious son Marcus tonight makes his aggressive bid to become school president. Mark Heap is the hapless headmaster, Miles Jupp plays the appalling Owen and Robert Lindsay also features, looking like Jon Culshaw impersonating Alan Sugar. A running joke involving a hooded interrogee is the highlight of this week's silliness.