Peter Capaldi

Jo Brand's superlative Getting On returned for a third series. Thanks to its vérité stylings and politically inflected setting, this barely-comedy set in the NHS backwaters has oft been compared with The Thick of It, while shamefully acquiring nothing like its profile. Meanwhile, their fundamental differences are encapsulated in their respective main characters' voices: Peter Capaldi's barbaric bark and Brand's low-level drone.

Anyway, last week's opener had the central trio - Brand's nurse, Joanna Scanlan's matron, and Vicki Pepperdine's fabulously callous doctor - in a new-fangled ward but struggling with the usual mix of bureaucratic absurdities and each other. That it successfully interwove a distressing scene of an old woman having a panic attack and the line "I think you would have enjoyed getting your teeth into my vaginal atrophy" tells you all you need to know about the show's rare, nay American, sophistication.

TV review: The Thick Of It deep in inquiry soup

Without the swear words, it proved that Tucker's uniqueness is not just down to his very blue syntax, as Peter Capaldi wrung every fibre of expression out of his rubber face in a tour de force performance, for which Bafta must surely come a-calling.

The award-winning political satire spoofs a governmental inquiry in an hour long special possibly inspired by the Leveson inquiry but bearing a greater resemblance in its staging to the Chilcot inquiry into Iraq. In the aftermath of the suicide of a key-worker after his flat was sold off, an inquiry has been called. Lord Goolding and his team of three inquisitors have little patience for the nervous rambling and impenetrable politician-speak of those giving evidence.

The civil servants, government and opposition troop in, each pointing the finger at the others. The sight of foul-mouthed media advisor Malcolm Tucker (Peter Capaldi), in particular, speechless and unable to dig himself out of a self-created hole is a joy to behold. As the entire episode is focused on the inquiry itself, the inventive swearing is mostly absent, instead the delight comes from watching each character struggle to answer questions without ending up in further trouble. Occasional moments descend into panto but with writing this exceptional, it's easy to forget we're watching a fictional inquiry.

Interview: Jo Brand on Getting On

The creator-star of the BBC Four hospital sitcom on Peter Capaldi, comedy and the cuts.

Peter Capaldi's comedic monster, Malcolm Tucker, has surely never performed a more ruthlessly cruel demolition job than the gutting he gave Nicola Murray MP on last night's The Thick Of It. 'You have all the charm of a rotting teddy bear at a graveside' is certainly up there with this comedy's best-ever lines.

But I do have some bad news for Tucker: Peter Mannion MP has emerged as the main man this series. He's even started to swear better...

"No smiling. Not even a wee Anne Robinson. The look we're going for should be solemn respect. Like blokes modelling underpants," scolds Malcom Tucker (Peter Capaldi) to his team in this fifth episode of Armando Iannucci's political comedy series, back after a one-week hiatus. Tonight, Nicola Murray (Rebecca Front) and Peter Mannion (Roger Allam) are both on the back foot after the unravelling of the key-worker housing sell-off policy.

Malcolm Tucker (Peter Capaldi) is back with us, storming around like an angry undertaker, plotting against lame-duck party leader Nicola Murray (Rebecca Front).

To orchestrate her downfall, he has deliberately put her on a train to Bradford while he sets off various PR bombs. But he needs Olly to help, and Olly is in hospital. Malcolm visits, with a bouquet, and Olly is touched. "Did you actually buy me flowers, Malcolm?" he splutters. "No, no," protests the lethal aide. "It's one of the many advantages of living near an accident blackspot."

The lavishly profane Malcolm-scenes are intercut with a frantic Nicola trying to salvage her political career from a train carriage, without the TV crew who are following her noticing. And Rebecca Front does panic brilliantly.

The excellent political satire continues with Malcolm Tucker (Peter Capaldi) ramping up his stealth campaign to oust the Leader of the Opposition, Nicola Murray (Rebecca Front). He packs Murray off to canvas at a party event in Bradford, leaving him free to move his political pawns into place. This means forcing policy advisor Ollie Reeder (Chris Addison) to coerce shadow ministers into joining the coup from a hospital bed, where he's recovering from an appendectomy.

Nervous Nicola Murray, now Leader of the Opposition, is practising her solemn walk for the Remembrance Day wreath laying ceremony. She's not very good at it, as her éminence grise Malcolm Tucker observes, "You're not throwing a straw frisbee in slow motion." Yes, mighty Malcolm (Peter Capaldi) is back, surfing a rip-tide of invective, and he's already plotting to bring down the hapless Murray (Rebecca Front) whose first major policy initiative, under the unfortunate heading of "Quiet Bat People", is torpedoed by everyone, particularly those closest to her.

Tucker is greyer than ever, like an ash-cloud of malevolence, which is an effective camouflage when he practises his dark arts in even darker cupboards, pulling would-be allies to one side for a little word. Of course, most of his words consist of four letters, so brace yourselves. Malcolm, you have been missed.

Life continues to veer from crisis to disaster in the fourth series of Armando Iannucci's sublime political comedy, with media strategist Malcolm Tucker (Peter Capaldi) here making his first appearance of the series. Leader of the Opposition Nicola Murray (Rebecca Front) struggles with left and right in more ways than one as she prepares for a public appearance with the PM and tries to manoeuvre away from the "assistance" of Tucker.