Matt Lipsey

To me Gangsta Granny was no different to Mr Stink, as the plot once again concerned a young protagonist who simply didn't fit in with the rest of their family.

Of all of the programmes that have been on during the festive season, Gangsta Granny is the only one that I can envision the entire family settling down to watch together.

Incredibly funny in places, especially when focusing on Ben's parents, at its heart Gangsta Granny was a simple story about the bond between a boy and his grandmother. The abiding message of Gangsta Granny was that youngsters shouldn't see their grandparents as boring because, just like them, they were also young once.

Gangsta Granny also benefited from a number of great performances, most notably from young Reece Buttery as the incredibly expressive Ben and by Julia McKenzie who was terrific as the pensioner with a massive secret. The costumes added an extra element of comedy to proceedings while Matt Lipsey's direction was superb. By the time Gangsta Granny had come to an end I had laughed, cried and finished up with a big smile on my face and that's all I really ask for from a programme such as this.

Words can't adequately describe this gloriously eccentric new British sitcom - you'll just have to see it for yourself.

But imagine Monty Python, The League of Gentlemen, George Orwell's 1984 and An Island Parish in a blender - along with some spectacularly cheap scenery - and you'll start to get an idea.

It's written by and stars the previously unknown pair of Chris Bran and Justin Chubb (where have they been all our lives?), and is set on the tiny fictional island of Jinsy.

The island is dotted with devices called tesselators that look like those money-in-the slot viewing machines you find on the end of the pier.

These act as two-way CCTV, where folk can see what's going on and also be spied on by the island's fussy arbiter Maven and his assistant Sporall.

The constant flow of surreal ideas and sight gags lends this a sketch-show quality in parts.

There are hilarious folk songs, photo-copying owls and Harry Hill in drag as Joon Boolay presenting the island's weekly Punishment Round-up.

But in the first episode of tonight's double bill, the big draw sees guest star David Tennant playing local celebrity Mr Slightlyman - the master of the balls in the regular wedding lottery.

Peter Serafinowicz is just as fabulous as an evangelical cupboard salesman in the second episode.

A pilot for This Is Jinsy was screened on BBC Three in March last year, but they foolishly failed to pick it up for a full series and it's now on Sky Atlantic.

The show is directed by Matt Lipsey of Psychoville and Little Britain fame.

Well, I hope BBC Three is kicking itself right now because this has got cult classic written all over it.

Vexed: Comedy vs. Drama?

What defines a show as a comedy drama? The reason for my trepidation is that this question is fraught with difficulties.

Casting Vexed

If you have a great script then the first thing you can do as a director to f**k it up is cast it badly. So here I was with a script where the two central characters are, at least in part (and in no particular order): dysfunctional, neurotic, sexist, quarrelsome, self righteous and paranoid.

Introducing Vexed

The pitch at its most simplified is this: a cop show that's not a cop show, or, Moonlighting for the noughties.

In Psychoville, the goblins have been running riot for some time. Last night's stunning episode balanced dark drama with dark comedy, leavened with a perfectly pitched, yet subversive, homage to Hitchcock's Rope shot in two long takes. The serial killer obsessed serial killer David (Steve Pemberton) has been killing people, under the evil aegis of mother Maureen (Reece Shearsmith).

It says something about the skill of the men's writing and performance that you look past the grotesque drag of both characters instantly. You laugh at the ridiculous mix of homeliness and psychopathy and at the deliciously childish wordplay, then shudder at the truth of their relationship: incestuous, yes, but their bond - the shady death, finally revealed here, of David's father - was movingly evoked, as was their shared dependence on one another.

The script was devilishly fast and crafty. Mark Gatiss was brilliant as the camp and unknowing interloper bringing the secrets of the past to the surface. He seemed to be a policeman, but wasn't: he was an am-dram devotee after a role, and hopeful that his brazen theatricality would win David and Maureen into casting him in a murder-mystery event. The twist was that they were going to kill him, believing him to be a real policeman, but let him go when they discovered he was not. He was murdered ultimately, having discovered that Maureen had killed David's father, not David (as David had believed). David hadn't known that either.

Matt Lipsey's direction would surely have made The Master proud: in the claustrophobic confines of David and Maureen's scuzzy, blood-spattered flat the camerawork was as unrelenting and viciously playful as the script. The over-stylised, freaky vibe of Psychoville can sometimes appeal only to the dedicated, the horror and comedy too grave-robbingly close to its cousin The League of Gentlemen. However, this episode was supremely classy and stood alone as a fluent, delicious piece of television. Lucky you if you caught it.

It's a bitterly cold November morning in a Mill Hill seminary, so cold that it's hard to distinguish the mist and dry ice from our breath. St Joseph's College was founded in 1866, and Steve Pemberton, looking of a similar vintage under heavy make-up, is rocking a ZZ Top in Middle Earth look, with wispy beard and satin gown. He's also lost a wart, but in between searches he sits down to chat about new project Psychoville. Fellow The League of Gentlemen alumnus and co-creator Reece Shearsmith has also stopped by, thankfully in civvies rather the outre garb of some of his characters.

The show, both concede, is unavoidably reminiscent of Royston Vasey in its grotesque characters, reference-heavy humour (episode four is a Hitchcock tribute, shot in just two takes in the manner of 'Rope') and even the name; Psychoville is the title used for The League of Gentlemen in Korea.

But there's no sense of recycling ideas. The characters may be oddballs, but they're driving a crafted narrative and are played by a broader cast. There's disturbed midwife Joy (Dawn French, right), misanthropic kids' entertainer Mr Jelly (Shearsmith), telekinetic dwarf Robert (Jason Tompkins), serial killer-obsessed David (Pemberton) and his mum, Maureen (Shearsmith), and Mr Lomax, a blind recluse with, yes, a straggly beard (Pemberton). Eileen Atkins and Christopher Biggins are also among the deliciously eclectic on-screen talent who've at least had the courage of their convictions. 'We've had famous people saying: "I'll do anything, I'll make sandwiches."' laughs Shearsmith. 'Then you offer them a part and they say: "Not for me."'

The co-creators' curious real-life experiences once again bleed into the characters. 'Joy the midwife came from sitting with glum dads in antenatal classes,' says Shearsmith, with appropriate gloom. And Mr Lomax? 'I used to work for a blind man while I was at college,' remembers Pemberton. 'I thought I'd be reading Dickens and we'd do crosswords together. I ended up writing his cheques and reading out financial reports. If there was a graph, I'd leave it out - how do you describe a graph to a blind person?'

Most grimly, David was 'the friend of a friend. He was jaundiced and his mother only had one leg. Someone went to their house and saw these bottles of wee from where she couldn't get to the toilet; she was scratching her son's back with her foot. As an opening image, that's terrific!'

Horizons are broader than they were in The League, with five locations forming the backdrop to the stories of the main characters. Each setting, from Wood Green to Ilkley, has its own tonal palette (London's is orange, to fit David and his mum's curtains - and skin).

And gradually, the plot brings these disparate, scattered characters together to reveal the secrets hinted at when each receives an anonymous letter claiming: 'I know what you did.' The mystery is all the more enveloping as neither writer knew how it would end. 'We were writing ourselves into corners,' says Shearsmith. 'But if we didn't know how we were going to untangle ourselves, then hopefully the audience can't second-guess us.'

Later on, we join director Matt Lipsey in the catering truck, where he's chuckling wearily about episode four. 'The scripts are so detailed, it makes my life hell, but it's the complexity that makes the show. That 'Rope' episode was painstaking, but it was exciting for the actors: as they got closer and closer to completing it they got more and more nervous about screwing it up. Which one of them did on take 15 ...'

Psychoville is evidence that there are commissioners at the BBC willing to take a risk in a conservative climate. 'Anything that smacks of a diktat from on high is dangerous,' Lipsey argues. 'Surely it's about diversity.' Pemberton and Shearsmith concur. 'When we wrote this in 2006,' says Pemberton, 'we heard that dark was out and big and funny was in. But we ended up being drawn to the things we were drawn to anyway.' And, rather than conduct the first read-through in a White City conference room, they did it in front of 250 people in a Notting Hill theatre. 'We wanted to hear the sound of laughter so they didn't just think it was something dark and weird that no one would find funny,' he beams.

But, creepily hilarious as Psychoville undoubtedly is, one question still hangs in the air: what about a League reunion? 'The will is there,' begins Shearsmith. 'There's no reason why not,' adds Pemberton, before wandering off into the chill in search of another wart. Trust us, saying 'Hello David' for the next few weeks is no bad thing.