Kirsty Wark

Would I Lie to You? review

Did Kirsty Wark steal Jeremy Paxman's Snoopy mug? This game show is funny enough that the truth doesn't matter.

Radio Times review

When Would I Lie to You? takes off, there's nothing like it. You get to a point where everyone in the studio is having such a high old time ribbing each other, they've almost forgotten they're on a panel show - and there are a few of those in this cracker of a show.

Bruno Tonioli is trying to convince us (and David Mitchell) that he once caused a fire while making pasta for Bananarama, whereupon Rob Brydon runs with it and does an impression of Bruno choreographing Bananarama that stops the show for a while. Then when Bruno tries to mock Mitchell's long-winded style, the comeback is pure joy.

Elsewhere, Adam Buxton maintains he has arguments with his partner via Skype and Kirsty Wark recalls a tiff with Jeremy Paxman over his Snoopy mug.

So was there a political edge to scheduling the rambunctious, booze-soaked Two Doors Down on the national network during New Year's Eve primetime? Viewers in the rest of the UK might have their suspicions or preconceptions about what happens at a traditional Scottish Hogmanay house party - underage drinking, sexual promiscuity, almost aggressive sentimentality, the single-minded pursuit of steak pie - and this one-off comedy reinforced and celebrated the best and worst of them.

With a conspiracy bunnet on, you could point to Alex Norton and Arabella Weir's harried hosts being called "the Bairds" and infer that this was intended as a tongue-in-cheek reflection of modern Scotland, bared for all to see. The guest list included middle-class neighbours obsessed with designer labels, a young returning soldier and a Scandinavian couple who looked a lot more attractive than everyone else, but were also a lot duller. In truth, any search for political subtext was overshadowed by the combination of Royle Family-style domestic comedy and rapidly escalating farce. Weir's brilliantly sustained accent, one of the best Kirsty Wark impressions I've ever heard, was just the maraschino cherry on top.

The younger generation of Scottish acting talent was well represented by My Mad Fat Diary's Sharon Rooney and Greg McHugh, the hardest-working man in sitcom-land. It was also good to see Jonathan Watson smoothly integrate himself into an ensemble, even if his malt-obsessed golf club bore veered into caricature. The showiest role, though, went to Daniela Nardini as the predatory Aunt Caroline back up from "that London". A blowsy vision in LBD and heels, Caroline's single-minded pursuit of hunky Thor-alike Henning culminated in a memorable gazebo disaster. For fans of This Life, Caroline felt like an alternate-universe version of Anna after almost two decades of questionable life choices.

The last time I saw Griff Rhys Jones on television was during the Jubilee pageant, when he was meandering up the Thames in a motor launch. I thought he looked miserable then, but that was nothing compared to how fed up he appeared presenting the first episode of the comedy panel quiz show, A Short History of Everything Else (Channel 4). Griff's script opened with: "We're off down memory lane without a seat belt ... because we didn't have to wear them in those days" and went downhill thereafter. His rictus smile throughout was almost certainly pain, though it would be more charitable to put it down to professionalism.

It wasn't just the script that was desperate: it was the concept as well. It was as though someone in the commissioning department had watched a couple of episodes of Have I Got News For You on Dave and come up with the brainwave of dispensing with topicality and making a news show that would feel like a repeat the first time you watched it. From round to round, the format never changed; Griff would make some crap gags to introduce a sequence of archive footage before inviting the two team captains - Marcus Brigstocke and Charlie Baker - along with guests Micky Flanagan and Kirsty Wark to make their own crap gags. I guess it was cheap, but it wasn't funny.

Brigstocke looked for a moment as if he thought he had actually wandered on to the set of a HIGNFY repeat as he gave a passable imitation of an extremely grumpy Paul Merton, looking permanently pissed off and not laughing at anyone else's jokes. But, on reflection, he was probably just annoyed he too had let himself be talked into signing up for such a turkey.

Satire just doesn't work on 30 year-old archive footage. Margaret Thatcher gags stopped having any edge the moment Ben Elton started making them in the 1980s. As for the old clips of Elton John having a tantrum and the 70s beer adverts ... For what it's worth, Charlie and Kirsty won by 15 points to 14. The result might seem rather more relevant in five years though, after the show has been repeated a few times.

The nation's apparently endless appetite for panel shows might just be tested to destruction by this retro news quiz helmed by Griff Rhys Jones. It's not appalling as such; at the very least, you'll crack a smile at a few of the clips. But the format's beyond tired and the premise - remembering the news of the recent past - seems like little more than an excuse to ransack the vaults for lazy comic effect. Didn't the smug funnymen of Britain have their fill of taking the piss out of Swampy back in 1996? Haven't we been encouraged to laugh at the drunken hi-jinks of the 2005 Ashes winners often enough by now? Anyway, joining Griff for this opening episode are Marcus Brigstocke, Charlie Baker, Kirsty Wark and Mickey Flanagan. They do their best, but silk purses stubbornly refuse to materialise.

Ubiquitous Griff Rhys Jones hosts this new comedy panel show, in which players are challenged to give "a short history of everything else". If that sounds slightly vague, then it's appropriate for the programme's rather nebulous concept. Each week, team captains Marcus Brigstocke and Charlie Baker and their guests watch varied clips of archive footage, and try to prove that they remember more about the stories behind the films than the other team. But they're really competing for points which are nonsensically allocated according to the drollness of their observations. The guests for this week's opener are broadcaster Kirsty Wark and comedian Micky Flanagan.

The show's real strength is the footage itself - the researchers have done a great job mining the archives to provide what Jones describes as "a serious nostalgia fest". Tonight there's vintage footage of Peter York discussing Sloane Rangers - "my goodness, don't they look lovely" - and a meringue pie being squished into Jeremy Clarkson's face. It may be yet another panel show, but this offbeat trip down memory lane extracts lots of humour from our social history.

Micky Flanagan interview

Harry Hill, Kirsty Wark and Noel Edmonds equal laughter, lust and guilt for the comedian and Mad Bad Ad Show panellist.

Video: Monty Python team caught on early home video

In the early days of Monty Python's Flying Circus, the team had no idea how big the show would become, so Terry Jones wanted to capture the moment on film.

He tells Kirsty Wark he was keen to find out just what the camera could do, an early indication of his eventual role directing the Monty Python films.

This and many other home videos will be featured in the Great British Home Movie Roadshow which begins on Friday 6 August at 2100 BST on BBC Two.

Radio 4's Saturday Play, Lambeth Palace, portrays politicking and PR spinning over the succession to the Anglican primacy. The liberal, gay-ordaining Bishop of Oxford has faith problems; the conservative Archbishop of York's cupboard is a positive ossuary. The media emerge badly (Kirsty Wark plays herself). Briskly enjoyable.