Michael Palin

Taking a lead from 2010's Frost On Satire, Sir David takes a look at another endangered comedy format, the sketch show. Charting the last 50 years of wanton skittery, Frost speaks to masters of shows past such as Stephen Fry, Ronnie Corbett and Michael Palin, taking in the highs and lows of the format. No preview tapes were available, so whether we'll be treated to the notoriously barbed "Timmy Williams Coffee Time" sketch from Moty Python's Flying Circus, a barely disguised pop at imperial-phase Frost himself, we have yet to find out.

The best contacts book in entertainment gets dusted off once more as David Frost recruits Michael Palin, Stephen Fry, Michael Grade et al to look at the rise - and perhaps fall - of the sketch show. The question posed at the outset - has the sketch show had its day? - is a pertinent one, although not answered in the 15-minute taster we were able to see.

Still, we can promise plenty of clips, both unfamiliar (some lovely corpsing from the early days of live variety shows) and over-familiar (Andre Preview, The Frost Report's class sketch). With any luck, a very watchable primer to a comedy format that should ideally be as easy to watch as it apparently is hard to master.

Is Michael Palin best at comedy or travel presenting?

As Michael Palin prepares to receive a prestigious Bafta Fellowship tonight, Michael Hogan considers what his strongest suit is.

Michael Palin interview

The actor and presenter on winning a Bafta lifetime achievement award, life after Monty Python and why he's not finished yet.

Michael Palin to receive Bafta fellowship

Presenter, writer and Monty Python star Michael Palin will be awarded a Bafta fellowship at its TV awards on 12 May.

Modern British farce - anything post-Carry On - is tricky to pull off: witness the dire remake of Run For Your Wife, released in cinemas last month, which quite rightly took less than £700 on its opening weekend. But John Cleese's 1988 heist comedy caper is a multi-award-winning classic. Cleese stars as married uptight barrister Archie Leach (the sort of part Colin Firth would play today) who falls for a sexy jewel thief called Wanda (Jamie Lee Curtis). However, it's Kevin Kline's Oscar-winning turn as Wanda's psychotic, armpit-sniffing, Neitzsche-reading 'brother', Otto, who steals the film while Michael Palin puts in adorable comedy support as an animal-loving stutterer called Ken. Simply Wandaful.

Monty Python stars reunite for film Absolutely Anything

The original stars of cult comedy Monty Python look set to reunite once more for a new movie. John Cleese, Terry Gilliam and Michael Palin are all said to be voicing characters of a group of aliens in the film who grant wishes to humans for laughs.

There was no seventh Python, Michael Palin tells court

The idea of there being a seventh member of the Monty Python comedy group was out of the question, Michael Palin told a court today during a legal battle over the Spamalot musical.

Michael Palin: our very silly man in Brazil

Michael Palin is still globetrotting for the BBC and as amiable as ever. What keeps the old Python happy?

As seen on The Late Great Eric Sykes, three days before he died in the summer, aged 86, Eric Sykes told his agent Norma Farnes that what he'd like more than anything would be the chance to pop into Orme Court one last time.

This was his office in London's Bayswater, and having been fortunate enough to share an hour in his company there, I knew what the place meant to him. In the 1960s it had been a fun factory, with top gagsmiths firing jokes at each other across the hallway. Comedy was a serious business for these guys with Sykes and Spike Milligan failing to agree where to position a "the" for maximum laughs and the latter settling the matter with a lobbed paperweight.

When I visited Orme Court, I noticed that Milligan, who had been dead three years, still had a pigeon-hole and what's more he had mail. I hope Sykes' ­pigeon-hole remains active although he's pretty much the last of his generation. Almost all his associates featured in The Late Great Eric Sykes, including Tommy Cooper, Frankie Howerd, Peter Sellers and regular co-stars Hattie Jacques and Derek Guyler, are gone. Guyler played Corky, the bumbling bobby, and typically Corky would say "Hello, hello, what's all this then?" and Eric would say "Don't come dashing in here like Starsky and Hutch!" He was being ironic, of course. No one did any dashing in Sykes' comedy.

Farnes took us on a tour of the office, which seems to have been left untouched. Sykes fired his gags from a big Sherman tank of a desk. There was the cupboard where he kept his cigars, latterly just for sniffing. And there was the photograph of his mother. She died giving birth to him, at least this was what he was told, and he bore much guilt for that. But she was his inspiration. In a clip from an old interview he said: "When I'm in trouble or a bit down I've only got to think of her." The photo's position in direct eyeline from the Sherman was deliberate. "Eric was absolutely certain that she guarded and guided him," said Farnes.

Sykes didn't have a catchphrase and his style wasn't loud or look-at-me. His heroes were Laurel and Hardy who no one mentions anymore, which seems to be the fate of practitioners of gentle comedy (notwithstanding that with Stan and Ollie or Eric around, there was a high probability of being hit on the head with a plank). Denis Norden, one of the few old chums not yet potted heid, described him as diffident, and not surprisingly it was the gentle comedians of today who queued up to sing his praises (no sign of Frankie Boyle). ­Eddie Izzard rhapsodised about him getting a big toe stuck in a bath-tap; Michael Palin said: "He just did the things you'd see your dad do, or someone in a ­garage." And right at the end Farnes recalled Eric's reaction to the dramatic revelation that his mother had actually hung on for a week after he was born: "So she did hold me!"