Julian Clary

Whereas previous series have displayed a certain demented resolve to entertain on their own terms, this scarcely credible fifth series of Benidorm is visibly going through the motions - not that this is likely to stop millions tuning in. There's the super-camp guest-spot (cabaret crooner Asa Elliott); the injection of focus-grouped new talent (Loose Women's Sherrie Hewson as the Solana's fearsome new manager); the last gasp shortcut to emotional connection (a climactic Don't Stop Believin'); and enough double entendres and toilet humour ('arsonist'! Bottom from A Midsummer Night's Dream!) to have Julian Clary checking his jokebook for plagiarism. Plenty of the regulars are back, but the joie de vivre that covered many of the cracks is long gone, leaving behind a tired, cynical cash cow.

You're entitled to ask why you should be interested in a comedian you've never heard of who died 60-odd years ago. Bob Hope called Sid Field "probably the best comedian of them all". For Tony Hancock, Field was inspirational and David Suchet tells a good story with actorly flourishes. Tragically, scarcely a fragment of Field in action survives. Yet we get a glimmer of how Field created the character-based sketch comedy that's become the norm in British comedy. He also pioneered camp - "the original mince," observes Julian Clary, tartly.

The Poirot actor presents this documentary about music hall great Sid Field, having played the Birmingham-bred entertainer in a 1994 musical. He talks to people who worked with Field, including Petula Clark, and fan Julian Clary, and asks why the pioneer of camp and sketch comedy is now remembered by relatively few people. Field sadly died in 1950, and so just missed the advent of popular television. This programme is part of BBC4's season on musical entertainers, which also includes Frank Skinner on George Formby on Thursday.

Sometimes it can seem as if standup comedians are everywhere. Clustered on panel shows, chat shows, sitcoms; hosting clips programmes, commenting on the news, making you chicken pie when you get home at night...

That's just me (I'm married to a standup), and that's a bad joke. Not quite as bad as some we heard on Stand Up For Comic Relief, but close.

Last week, Radio 4 took us through the now familiar process of established comedians mentoring novices for charidee (you phone in to vote for the best, and the money goes to Comic Relief). Thus, Dev from Radio 1 was tutored by Chris Ramsey, Radio 2's Tony Blackburn got Julian Clary, Tom Service (Radio 3) by Sandi Toksvig, Jenni Murray (Radio 4) by Mark Steel, Tony Livesey (5Live) worked with Justin Moorhouse and Shaun Keaveny from 6Music was paired with Miles Jupp. (If there was ever a sign that the BBC are now fully supportive of 6Music, Shaun doing Comic Relief is it.)

Before we heard the routines, in the "funny" 6.30pm slot on Wednesday, Radio 4 offered us two half-hour puff pieces on Monday and Tuesday, where the newbies expressed their fear and competitiveness and their mentors cracked funnies. Tony Blackburn was the coolest, his shtick so tough that Clary's advice could only slide off it like an egg chucked at a tank. Blackburn refused to meet Clary more than once, and was as corny as can be, his light-ent persona carrying him through hoary gags such as getting the whole audience to look under their seats for a nonexistent prize. Tony Livesey was cheesy too, in ye old working men's club manner: terrible jokes, delivered with a wink and some panache. Shaun Keaveny was likable, as were Jenni Murray and Tom Service. But best by far was Dev, who told a truthful, funny, well-constructed story about asking a girl out complete with call-backs to earlier jokes. He should win.

As an aside, much as Comic Relief is an admirable institution, it should be held at least partly responsible for all these standups and their hijacking of mainstream culture. Funny is God, these days. (And God, though good with a one-liner, wasn't actually much of a giggle.) Oh, I'm so sick of listening to people say stuff that sounds as though it's a punch-line, but isn't actually, you know, funny. Hey ho. Adam and Joe will be back on 6Music next month. They really do make me laugh.

Teen-favourite pop punkers McFly are the house band for this episode of the comedian's cheerful weekly mixture of music and comedy. Laughs are provided by prize-winning comedian Zoe Lyons, Julian Clary and regular stand-up Russell Kane, while Little Britain and Come Fly with Me star Matt Lucas and tenor Alfie Boe present the TV debut of The Impossible Dream, their duet cover of the song from Dale Wasserman's musical The Man of La Mancha.

My Teenage Diary, now halfway through its second series, is proving a gentle, amusing listen. Julian Clary, last week, was a tad mournful about his young self, but this week Meera Syal positively revelled in reading out her entries, treating us to her original Midlands accent and 70s angst. It was lovely. Generally unsuccessful with boys, her teenage self did meet one fellow at judo she rather liked. "He is very intelligent, has epileptic fits and reckons God is a spaceman."

Video: Julian Clary on 25 years of comedy and being 50

Julian Clary, who is well known for his stand-up comedy, his dress sense and flamboyance, has been entertaining fans for more than 25 years with his unique style and innuendo.

Interview: Julian Clary

It could be said that bringing mince to Scotland is like taking Cheryl Cole to Newcastle. However, Julian Clary is confident that in touring his stand-up show, Lord of the Mince, here he will - to steal his own double entendre - experience a warm hand on his entrance.

Julian Clary interview

Julian Clary reveals how no seat is safe when the comic is after victims.

We do love a bit of camp, we Brits. Frankie Howerd, Larry Grayson, Dick Emery, Mr Humphries aka John Inman all perpetuated the non-threatening camp stereotype in the sixties and seventies - unlimited innuendo but no sex please, we're British.

That all changed in the eighties with the coming of alternative comedy and the black leather-clad Julian Clary. Camp's hidden agenda was well and truly outed, paving the way for Rhona Cameron, Graham Norton, Simon Fanshawe and others to do full-frontal gay comedy, warts and all.

In The Archive Hour, Simon Fanshawe traced the history of gay comedy over the past 30 years, from the double standards of Howerd and Grayson, always fearful of alienating the audience by appearing openly homosexual, through the overtly gay material of Clary and Cameron to today's more androgynous approach, where the quality of the material counts for more than any concerns about sexuality.

You got the impression Julian Clary quite missed the shock and awe days of the eighties - "I enjoyed the sharp intake of breath when I crossed the line" - though Fanshawe was in no doubt that today's open-minded audiences were much to be preferred.

Graham Norton said he soon got bored with doing gay jokes, having traded on his gayness at first, and consciously started to introduce other subjects. "I was lucky in that I could do Irish jokes as well as gay jokes," he said.

I'd never heard of the Australian Brendan Burns, a straight stand-up who does a funny line in anti-homophobic material, nor the Anglo-Bengali gay stand-up Paul Sinha, but their contributions sent me scurrying off to YouTube to see further exposure.