Lucy Mangan

Comedy Women In Print longlist announced

The Published Novel longlist for the Comedy Women in Print Prize (CWIP) is announced on 21st December, comprising a range of satire, sharp wit and dark humour from both established names and debut writers and showcases the evolution of original witty women's writing.

2022 Bollinger Everyman Wodehouse Prize for Comic Fiction shortlist announced

The 2022 Bollinger Everyman Wodehouse Prize for Comic Fiction has announced an extended shortlist of twelve titles in contention for this year's award, in recognition of the exceptionally strong list of submissions it has received.

No Offence: drama almost as chilling as the real thing

The third episode of Abbott's latest creation is a riot and flashes by at breakneck speed.

Esio Trot review

This adaptation of Roald Dahl's book about a love affair, starring Judi Dench and Dustin Hoffman and 100 tortoises, is a thing of wonder.

Mr Sloane TV review - flashes of something lovely

Mr Sloane is not terribly innovative or funny: if they cut the comedy this could turn into a fine marital drama.

Tommy Cooper: Not Like That, Like This review

David Threlfall should walk off with this year's best actor Bafta after a pitch-perfect portrayal of the much-loved comedian, supported by a phalanx of perfectly turned supporting roles.

Over on BBC Four things were uplifting, thanks to The Walshes - a new sitcom from Graham Linehan, co-written with comedy troupe Diet of Worms, the latter playing the members of the eponymous Dublin family. It's not the subtlest piece of work you'll ever see (dad Tony, under erroneous impression that daughter Keira's new boyfriend is a doctor, shows him his "small anal event - like a rubbery M&M behind me scrotum!") but there are lovely touches. Mother Carmel's "demented fridge". Neighbour Mike who appears quietly at intervals from behind the latest banjaxed Walsh appliance. The "28A" affixed to Keira's door to make her feel like she's got her own flat. I laughed. At two points I nearly cried. Linehan et al are either geniuses or need to be burned as witches. I'll tune in next week to decide.

So after seven years and five series we must say farewell to Outnumbered (BBC One), which has at last been outmanoeuvred by Mother Nature and the pulsating endocrine systems of its now only semi-juvenile leads. Jake (Tyger Drew-Honey), Ben (Daniel Roche) and Karen (Ramona Marquez) were 11, eight and six respectively when the sitcom about life in the overscheduled, underdisciplined Brockman household began in 2007. Now Karen looks like a 25-year-old model, Jake is a tangle of gangling limbs and Ben - well, Ben still looks like Ben, but galumphs stolidly now rather than pinballs round the house, more usually mortified these days than gratified by the havoc he creates.

In the beginning, most of the art and all of the craft went into assembling the children's semi-improvised performances into workable narrative wholes. As the exhausted parents, Claire Skinner and Hugh Dennis gave lovely, understated and endlessly, beautifully generous performances that left the children room to perform while gently trammelling them in the right direction. It was all very ... parental, really, and doubtless almost as exhausting as the real thing.

But now the kids have minds, scripts and marks of their own. They manage them all very well. To say that the magic is gone is not to do them a disservice but simply to recognise that Outnumbered was a series built round the unfakeable pre-adolescent world-weariness of the 11-year-old oldest child, the irreproducible childish ebullience of Ben and - words almost fail me. What was it about Karen? The sense of nascent megalomania within? The slow, styptic blink when she spotted an inconsistency in an adult's story or an incompatibility with her world view? The moral sense of a snake coupled with the unforgiving judgment of a Puritan preacher? The sociopathic detachment with which she scanned for personal weakness and the elegance with which she struck? ("So you've been a bridesmaid? But never a bride.") The composure remains, but she has grown into it now. The preternatural element of her gifts-slash-unnameable threat has lessened. The family and viewer are less tense. It's a relief, but the laughs are fewer and our time together is over. It was great while it lasted though.

We've all been burned too many times to take these things on trust any more. Still, the cast list of Big School (BBC1) couldn't fail to draw the eye, stuffed like a prize summer pudding as it was with juicy comedy names. Catherine Tate. David Walliams (a co-writer of the series). Joanna Scanlan (Terri Coverley in The Thick of It). Frances de la Tour. Frances de la bloody Tour!

All that promise means there's further to fall, right? Yes, usually. But this time it was great. Not perfect. But great.

The setting and the setup - teachers in an urban comprehensive who are lazier and less mature than the kids - is far from original. But Walliams, playing the head of chemistry, Mr Church, who is on the point of resigning until he has a coup de foudre when the new French teacher, Miss Postern (Tate), walks in, has here tapped into his warmer, more vulnerable, altogether funnier side. It's the one that makes him a wonderful children's author, rather than his colder Little Britain side. This performance, and his writing, gives the show good jokes and heart - which unless you are sure you are the next Seinfeld, generally works out best for all concerned.

And Tate's a genius. Her opening scene with Frances de la Tour's headmistress will keep me happy all week. "I love everything French!" she exclaims. "Not just the language. The history, the romance, the bread." I can't reproduce it here with just the paltry resources of the printed word, but it's the way she breathes the greatest passion into "bread" that sets you honking. And that's before De la Tour fixes her with a stare that's seen a thousand teachers come and go, and replies without expression on her face but an infinity of loathing in her voice: "Dirty people. Dirty country."

Look, you had to be there. But make sure you are next week. The second episode was trailed at the end of this one and trust me, you're going to want to see Mr Church dancing out of the dinner hall while raging at Miss Postern: "French is the poor man's Spanish!" Gold star.

Last night was the first episode of the new C4 sketch show Anna and Katy (surnames Crilly and Wix respectively). I'm not going to describe what I saw, mainly because it was through tears as I lay on the floor and laughed my legs off, except to say that German Countdown was possibly my favourite ("Ist OK vurd for git-to-shit, Suzie?") and that there is nothing to gladden the heart more than two women on telly doing really, really stupid, really, really brilliant, really, really funny stuff.