June Whitfield

Miranda really shouldn't work. If it were any more mired in Seventies sitcom cliches it would feature Terry Scott and June Whitfield in a shop called Grace Brothers.

It's also terribly blighted by awful canned laughter and comedy signposts probably visible from Mars. Yet, despite all this, Miranda is occasionally very funny indeed. This is mostly down to Miranda Hart's bravery. How many 6ft 1in women would write a scene in which they're running down the road in ill-fitting underwear and flesh-cloured tights?

It's Hart's heart that makes Miranda so endearing. And because she falls over a lot and is oddly reminiscent of Frankie Howerd.

The first in this second series sees her trying to get over the departure of her improbably handsome boyfriend by becoming the type of woman 'who just grabs a wheatgerm smoothie in between work and going out because that's enough to keep her going even though she went for a jog at lunchtime - and enjoyed it.' At this point mum (Patricia Hodge) pipes up: 'Darling, I'm putting on a whites wash - if your pants are dirty, pop them off and I'll pop them in.' Miranda shouldn't work but somehow it does.

As safe as houses

People giggled when I said I was going to be reviewing The Many Faces of June Whitfield. What was it? The mismatch between the fusty bombast of the first half of the title and the slightly parochial connotations of the subject? Would the name June Whitfield have done it on its own - as a marker of a very Middle English type of comedy - or did it need the mildewed showbiz-bio description as well? It is, you'd have to admit, the kind of title that keys you up for a spoof. It's got something of "Balham - Gateway to the South" about it, an association that wasn't exactly dispelled by the opening line of the voiceover: "For more than 60 years, one woman has been at the beating heart of British comedy". But while Steve Coogan - the Inside Story took the very wise precaution of sending itself up now and then, The Many Faces of June Whitfield was played absolutely in earnest. Tongue and cheek never met once as a parade of approbatory clichés ("consummate professional", "pin-sharp timing", "joy to write for") filed past. If this documentary had been a person it would have been wearing a Pringle sweater and a silk cravat, just as Nicholas Parsons was, in fact, when he popped up to hymn June's indispensability to the string of top-of-the-bill comics she'd worked with.

Latterly remembered for looking vaguely appalled as Terry Scott's deckchair collapsed, or for some deliciously acid exchanges in Ab Fab ("In this body there is a thin person dying to get out." "Just the one, dear?"), there's more to June Whitfield than just a succession of second fiddles. Covering her West End debut during the Blitz, to her postwar heyday (Tony Hancock, Frankie Howerd) and beyond, this is a charming celebration of her career.

If you're of an age where June Whitfield is best known for playing Jennifer Saunder's mum in Absolutely Fabulous, or even as "that woman from Doctor Who". This is a lovely insight into the Queen Mum of Comedy (Victoria Wood, you may remember from last Monday, already has the title of the Queen of Comedy).

June takes us on this trip down her memory lane. She made her West End debut during the Blitz and became a household name in the 1950s radio comedy Take It From Here, which at its peak attracted 22 million listeners.

But to many she will always be Terry Scott's long-suffering wife in Terry And June. Prior to the documentary is another chance to see the 1985 Christmas special of that show and also relive the moment Michael Aspel surprised June with the big red book in This Is Your Life. And at 10pm is an episode of Absolutely Fabulous, a term that could have been coined to describe June herself.

Ray Galton and Alan Simpson have been writing together for 60 years and given us classic comedies. If they never write another word we are all in their debt. Radio 2 had a good idea to celebrate their partnership by recreating some of their old scripts for today's new comedy stars. The last in the series was Paul Merton in the role Tony Hancock made famous, The Blood Donor.

Actually, it was written for Arthur Lowe so, in theory, it should have passed easily into another voice. Unfortunately, it didn't. Merton sounded as if he were reading. So did June Whitfield's daughter, Suzy Aitchison, playing the nurse, the role her mother took so memorably 48 years ago. Why? It wasn't the script or the players. It's the art of good comedy production that's gone missing. The technical process has grown easier. The making of words into magic remains a tricky art.

The final programme marking Galton and Simpson's 60-year writing partnership is a new version of one of their most famous works. Originally written for Tony Hancock, The Blood Donor is regarded as a comedy classic, so it's a brave man who would step into Hancock's shoes and take on what is pretty much a perfect piece of comedy writing.

Here Paul Merton takes the Hancock role and, despite seeming a little un-easy at times, comes about as close to anyone as carrying it off.

The script has been tweaked a bit to bring it up to date, but none of the memorable lines have been lost. And in an affectionate nod to the past, Suzi Aitchison takes the role of the nurse - a part played by her mother June Whitfield in the original 48 years ago.

Review of the I Tell You It's Burt Reynolds episode:

The family at the heart of this comedy drama are looking forward to watching The Great Escape together on the telly when someone hammers on the front door. It's Uncle Jim, and he's the most argumentative, obnoxious man imaginable. He's also played to perfection by Rik Mayall. June Whitfield is the deaf and slightly loopy grandmother who gets some great throwaway lines from writers Galton and Simpson: "Who's that with their arm round Gordon Brown?" she asks. It's David Attenborough cuddling a chimp in a TV ad. Uncle Jim, meanwhile, is certain he's spotted Burt Reynolds playing a bit part in The Great Escape and uses Radio Times to prove his point. Reynolds is not listed: "Bloody silly magazine," he barks. I knew he was a wrong 'un from the way he knocked on that door.