Miranda Sawyer

Laura Solon's second series of Talking and Not Talking puts bizarre pictures in your mind. In half an hour, she packed in many beautifully worded sketches. Some were one-liners ('I guess the first tattoo I had was really just to annoy my father. But then it did say, ROD OFF DAD YOU BIG GAYER right across my forehead'), some could have been entire films (I loved the story about going on a round-the-world yacht where every other crew member was a fortysomething divorced woman).

Solon's editing is excellent; very few sketches milked the joke too long. As a Perrier winner, she understands the rules of stand-up: if you're doing badly - get off. And if you're doing well? Get off.

Calling Beethoven 'the Sinatra of the sonata' is, without doubt, good. And David Quantick is the man to do so. His Blagger's Guide to the Classics on Radio 2 was a bonkers phonic fiesta in familiar Quantick style, meaning it was quick-fire, informative and very, very funny. Whether discussing Beethoven - 'the genius's genius', 'so important that even pop stars have heard of him', 'combed his hair with his feet' - or the woodwind section ('the part of the orchestra most likely to be bullied'), Quantick made you laugh while helping you understand. Though even a classical dummy like me already knew most of what was being imparted (a common problem with Radio 2 documentaries), Quantick's delivery and the programme's pace and wit left you feeling breathless rather than bored. And his cheekiness knew no bounds.

Here's Quantick on opera: It's not all big women dressed in Hagar the Horrible helmets and fat chavs singing about insomnia. But it should be.

Hooray for silly summer radio!

I wonder if David Mitchell and Robert Webb have many duppy to feed. They're certainly working hard: Peep Show, plus a film, Magicians, and those awful Apple Mac adverts (the duppies could have gorged themselves on that cheque). And now another series of That Mitchell and Webb Sound. Like all their work, I think I won't really like it and then find myself tuning in and laughing like a drain. It's always at the same thing, which is the chubby uncool feller (is he Mitchell? Or Webb?) getting angry. This week he lost his rag about footie fans becoming too immersed in the game, deciding to do the same with Raiders of the Lost Ark. 'At the end we're tied to a stake in the ground, and you lot open the Ark of the Covenant, and the wrath of God comes out and melts your face,' he snarled. Said by Chubby, this was hilarious.

Radio 4 is funny (peculiar) because it trumpets its 6.30pm comedy slot, yet most of its funny (ha-ha) finds are elsewhere. For instance, All Bar Luke, scheduled at 11.15pm, is a sweet-natured little gem.

On Wednesday, Luke, played by writer Tim Key, was at a stag party, stone-cold sober. He was designated driver. This, you suspect, will prove to be a regular occurrence. You only hear Luke's voice, no one else's responses, and the joy of the programme is in the gradual realisation of the entire, awful situation. I don't want to spoil it for you, but poor Luke was subjected to a private lap dance. He offered the obliging lady a £10 book token. I don't know if you accept them ... But it's Borders, he explained. So you can get CDs too, or ... I don't know if you can get coffees with it .... You felt for him, you really did.