Matt Berry

Radio Times review

Imagine a 1970s domestic sitcom left so long in the cupboard it's gone fizzy, then been taken out, dipped in sprinkles and thoroughly baked by the surreal imaginations of Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer. That's the drift here. The notional setting is Bob's house, where Vic is a troublesome lodger who fills the place with junk - a painting of a pygmy, tins of pineapple, and so on. In the opening scene Vic sings a song about a knight's gauntlet he has just acquired, then Bob berates him for getting toilet rolls and curtains mixed up. Matt Berry arrives as their friend Beef, an expansive lothario of the kind Berry does better than anyone, and there's a man-eating neighbour called Julie.

The farcical sort-of-plot they get wrapped up in barely matters (Vic gets wedged in a hole cut between the two houses) and it's as obsessed with body parts and weird about the opposite sex as a 12-year-old boy. But if you like Vic and Bob's ludicrous humour, it's very funny.

Toast of London is co-written by Father Ted's Arthur Mathews and stars Matt Berry as the fruity-voiced actor Stephen Toast. We need only list a few character names to convince you of its genius: Clem Fandango, Kikini Bamalam, Yvonne Wryly, Hamilton Meathouse and Dinky Frinkbuster.

Radio Times review

Did anyone expect Toast of London to get a second series? Not only was Matt Berry's rumbling, randy thespian a ratings wallflower (under half a million viewers), but it was so creatively out-there, it made Man Down look like Terry and June. A Nigerian girlfriend whose plastic surgery has left her looking like Bruce Forsyth? A punch-up on a nuclear submarine? A demented beak-keeper (not a bee-keeper, a beak-keeper)? No other show would even attempt any of these, but they all delivered huge, left-field laughs and earnt Toast a big cult following. Roll on series two.

Matt Berry is one of the most effortlessly amusing humans alive. And his latest vehicle, which introduced us to the pompous, rude, hilariously humourless luvvie Steven Toast, might be his most potently absurd creation yet. 'FIRE the nuke-u-lar weapons!!'

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.

Steven Toast as James Bond? Why not? He's only got Michael Fassbender and Nigel Havers for competition, after all. This audition, like so many others, sees Matt Berry's titular luvvie misjudging the mood somewhat. But there are even greater problems in store when a poker game with Andrew Lloyd Webber turns nasty. With Webber's universally feared enforcer Michael Ball (played here by Michael Ball) on his tail and a gay porn voiceover to complete, Toast's on his uppers.

Still, there's always some way that things can get worse... This first series comes to an end with lots of blood and finally, a glimpse of Toast's terrible play. By and large, it's been a delight: a tour de force of virtuosic vocal and physical comedy and the kind of relentless, off-the-cuff daftness that can only be the result of meticulous planning and dedication. Encore!

Toast of London is a crazy new comedy about a booming-voiced thespian about town. Matt Berry (the booming-voiced boss in The IT Crowd) is as compelling as you might expect as the crazy Steven Toast and Doon Mackichan is crazy enough as his crazy agent - seen in her office last week being pleasured by a muscular unclothed masseur with his genitals pixelated. Toast's flatmate is a bit crazy and Toast has a roster of crazy girlfriends. Last week's crazy plot in which Toast (surrounded by crazy military types) foiled a plan to blow up a nuclear submarine was... well, let's say I wasn't crazy about it.

Toast Of London is the theatrical comedy starring Matt Berry that has been crisping up my Sunday nights. Berry's character, Steven Toast, takes a bit of warming to but his mix of outlandish ego and frustrated ambition means you can both laugh with and at him.

That, coupled with a delight at taking a pop at a range of random targets - Prince Philip, Michael Portillo and Minnie Driver all got the Toast treatment - make it stand out from the comedy crowd.

Last night, Toast endured a row about crazy golf and mini-golf ('what's the f***ing difference?'), pondered the possibly career-ending prospect of accepting a laxative ad and sold his soul to a crazed billionaire by acting in the worst film ever made.

It all climaxed with a musical finale entitled This Whole Life Is Beneath Me. I might get a T-shirt with that on it.

Time for another testy exchange between over-the-hill actor Steven Toast and his agent: "There's no way I'm doing a laxative ad," he splutters. "You remember what happened to Derek Sibling!" (We find out.) But Toast is strapped for cash and his wife (Amanda Donohoe) wants a divorce - when she's finished beating him with a crazy-golf club.

The way Toast pinballs from one humiliation to the next is wonderful, and this week there's another of those strange, dreamlike song sequences showcasing Matt Berry's musical skills. Look out too for the always scary Alan Ford as an irate cabby.