Katherine Parkinson

First in an anthology squeezed from the brains of Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith, with each darkly diverse tale unfolding within a different residence numbered nine. In this opener, which features Katherine Parkinson, Anne Reid and Timothy West, a country manor hosts an uncomfortable game of sardines between a family long since grown apart. A slow burner compared with the episodes that follow, but a decent introduction to a series stylistically similar to criminally disregarded Dawn French vehicle Murder Most Horrid.

Inside No. 9 is magnificent. It is the latest series to emerge from the dark imaginations of Reece Shearsmith and Steve Pemberton, the pair who were also responsible for Psychoville & The League of Gentlemen (with Mark Gatiss and Jeremy Dyson).

Their new series consists of six self-contained, bleakly comic dramas set in six very different No 9s, ranging from a suburban home to a country pile. Like all the best short stories or one-act plays, tonight's episode works with a deceptive and outrageous simplicity. A group of characters are playing a game of sardines. One after the other, they squeeze into a cupboard. Some are partners. Some are engaged. Some are work colleagues. Some have ugly histories in common, and one is a stranger to hygiene. Between them, they cover a wide variety of social backgrounds, sexual orientations and age groups. If a bomb dropped on the cupboard where they were hiding, a good portion of the acting talent in this country would be wiped out.

The high quality ensemble includes Anne Reid, Julian Rhind-Tutt, Katherine Parkinson, Anna Chancellor and Timothy West, all of whom squeeze in alongside Pemberton and Shearsmith. However, this isn't just an inspired set-up performed by a stellar cast, it builds to a macabre and horribly imagined climax.

Of course, every night is IT Crowd night somewhere on the Channel 4 network. Like Father Ted, it's become one of those endlessly repeated classics that feels dangerous to even dip into for fear of finding yourself still transfixed a couple of hours later.

So what is Graham Linehan's secret? No real clues from The IT Crowd Manual', the doc which, at 10pm, forms the centrepiece of this celebration. What he's done seems simple: in both Father Ted and The IT Crowd, the classic sitcom formula (a hermetically-sealed world, characters who never learn lessons) is equipped it with self-awareness and real warmth. Oh, and the perfomances are magnificent - Richard Ayoade, Chris O'Dowd, Katherine Parkinson and Matt Berry are all charmingly present and correct and all seem rightly proud to have been involved in such an adored show.

If you tune in an hour before the doc, you'll get another chance to catch the hour-long special that closed the series earlier this year; from 11.05pm, we'll be finding out which episodes the show's fans and creator hold dearest. A Christmas Eve treat.

Ever considered the erotic potential of a barista's frothy coffee machine? Since the hopelessly inept IT department first flickered into life in this peerless comedy, the world has moved on. Back in 2006, the careers of Chris O'Dowd, Richard Ayoade and Katherine Parkinson were just booting up. And the all-pervading influence of the internet was still cranking up. But now, as the trio log in for this last-ever one-off special - featuring a spooky guest turn from Noel Fielding - the faces of Roy, Moss and Jen are famous, and there's a glint of the Black Mirror about the tangles they get into as viral videos, micro-bloggers and hactivists up the levels of paranoia.

Those familiar with Graham Linehan's hyperactive Twitter presence will be unsurprised by some of the subjects tackled in this the hour-long finale of his geeky, live audience sitcom: embarrassing viral videos, anonymous hacktivists, the NSA. It's a testament to his fine plotting skills and mastery of tone that such dark fare is seamlessly woven into the shows usual cartoonish set pieces and Seinfeldian verbal tics ('small-person racist', 'emotionally artistic').

Along the way, our hapless trio of Moss (Richard Ayoade, whose new film The Double features original Reynholm Industries head honcho Chris Morris, fact fans), Roy (Chris O'Dowd, fresh from BBC2's Family Tree) and Jen (Katherine Parkinson, thankfully less shrill than in previous series) do battle with tiny baristas, pepper spray, women's slacks and, er, a van with breasts.

Naturally there are plenty of laughs to be had, especially from Matt Berry, on gloriously silly form as lunatic boss Douglas Reynholm.

But it drags in places and the same old problem remains: the main characters elicit no warmth. As a result, when the IT Crowd depart their basement lair for the last time this viewer was left feeling strangely unmoved. Adios then, nerdlingers: gone neither with a big bang nor a whimper.

Radio Times review

The synthy title music buzzes us in for a last, joyous visit to the basement of Reynholm Industries. Since the last series in 2010, Chris O'Dowd has gone A-list in Hollywood and Richard Ayoade's film-directing debut (Submarine) won him a Bafta nomination. But for some of us they'll always be Roy and Moss, socially inept IT engineers saddled with a vague, desperate manager (Katherine Parkinson) whose talent for making things spiral into wrongness rivals their own.

For this extended, goodbye special, it's business as usual. Playboy company boss Douglas (Matt Berry) is thinking of appearing on The Secret Millionaire, Roy is struggling to keep a new girlfriend ("She said that emotionally I'm on the artistic spectrum..."), and he and Jen are caught on a viral video that upsets the internet. "We p****d off the internet, Jen!" wails Roy. The internet is coming to get us!"

Two sitcom one-offs launch another Sky comedy season of new work. The first, called "30 And Counting", features two friends trying to help their broken-hearted chum get an internet date and feels a little old-fashioned. At 9.30pm, the second - "Officially Special" - is lifted by Katherine Parkinson's central performance (as a world records official with a crap love life), and some pretty good writing. Miss Wright (starring and co-written by Isy Suttie) is the stand-out of the series. Look out for that on 4 April.

A kind of Weird Science for the internet generation, 30 And Counting kicks off the promising Love Matters series of six original one-off comedies covering all facets of the relationship game. The first double bill opens tonight with mates Matt (Dan Clark) and Jason (Brett Goldstein) constructing a computer-generated perfect woman with the goal of cheering up unlucky-in-love buddy George (Daniel Lawrence Taylor). Cue amorous carnage. The second tale, "Officially Special", stars The IT Crowd's marvellous Katherine Parkinson as a bored records adjudicator fearful that life is passing her by. She's somewhat nonplussed when her boyfriend takes her up the London Eye. And no, that's not a euphemism...

The first of six half-hour comedies about the ugly business of relationships introduces a lonely 30-something with a bad habit of squawking at bus drivers. His best mates - also unhappily single - sign him up to an online dating site, with predictably catastrophic results.

Far funnier is number two: Katherine Parkinson plays the head of the miscellaneous department at Brewster's World Records (geddit?) who daydreams and spars with colleagues, blissfully oblivious to the fact that her soppy boyfriend has a surprise planned. Let's hope this lady gets a series of her own.

Sky continues to champion the short comedy with three sweet-and-sour double bills on the awkward business of modern romance. First up at 9pm is 30 and Counting, a romcom examining online dating through the eyes of hapless singleton George (Daniel Lawrence Taylor, aka Geoff from Hunderby). It's a little broad and uneven, but a couple of virtuoso set-pieces really impress, as George's mates create his ideal virtual girlfriend, and then reluctantly kill her off while the outro from Layla plays.

The formidably funny Katherine Parkinson then takes the lead in Officially Special at 9.30pm, playing Jo, a judge of world record attempts, whose work problems take her eye off her partner, busily planning a surprise. Said surprise is realised in excruciating fashion, and the show has enough smart observations to make about Jo's commitmentphobia to override a few clunkers (gags about a girl called 'Fanny'?).

With a bit more polish to the scripts, we could see either making a series. And no other broadcaster has shown such consistent willingness (or, probably, budgetary capability) to take a chance on under appreciated talent. This, more than anything, makes Love Matters, well, matter.