Peter Cook (II)

Private Eye and Peter Cook's finest hour

Ian Hislop regaled the audience with the tale of the time he, the late proprietor Peter Cook and others invaded the office of arch enemy Robert Maxwell.

Watching this series's parade of classic comedy clips, chosen by comedians of today, confirms the theory that some people just have funny bones. It wouldn't matter if Tommy Cooper were clipping his toenails or performing the elaborately shambolic glass bottle trick from 1974 that is replayed here tonight: the fez-wearing comedian induces guffaws just because of who he is. Similarly, Peter Cook and Dudley Moore go wildly off-script in their "Pete and Dud" sketch in the art gallery and start giggling, but they're naturally funny together, as Phill Jupitus and Rhod Gilbert attest here. Funny comes in many packages, and while the American stand-up Joan Rivers, chosen by Graham Norton and Jo Brand as a favourite, is well-known for her shock tactics, her outrageous quips about growing old on The Graham Norton Show appeared to take even Norton aback at the time. Other treats featured are the University Challenge scene from The Young Ones in 1984, co-starring Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry, and the bit in the Monty Python film Life of Brian in which Graham Chapman's Brian Cohen exhorts his followers to think for themselves. It may be a clip show and most of the clips are more than familiar, but it surely contains more laughs per minute than any of the newer comedies on television tonight.

A modest moment of TV history took place in Fry and Laurie Reunited, in which the beloved comedy duo appeared on screen following a gap of 15 years.

Interviewing each other informally in an English country manor, their mutual affection was palpable. Although it was charming seeing them in tandem again, it was disappointing that their cheerfully anecdotal conversation offered scant insight into their working process. Sadly, it wasn't that kind of show.

Instead, this was - as Fry might say - a moist, fluffy tribute to one of Britain's most exceptional double acts: a reminder that Laurie is one of the most naturally gifted clowns of his generation, and that Fry was once so much more than a cosy national treasure.

Despite their closeness, it was interesting to note their different temperaments. Now one of the world's biggest TV stars thanks to House, Laurie disguised himself behind a torrent of unsentimental quips, while Fry guffawed adoringly and spoke emotionally of their relationship.

It's tempting to draw parallels with Peter Cook and Dudley Moore: the troubled, resolutely English wit and the ivory-tinkling clown turned unlikely superstar sex symbol. But there isn't a hint of jealousy or spite between them.

As torrid as it got was when Laurie questioned Fry's memories of their first meeting and expressed concern that he was spreading himself too thin, while Fry dug heavily at the likes of Little Britain for lazily regurgitating sketches, which Fry and Laurie rarely did.

Notwithstanding a glimpse of their obscure comedy pilot from 1983, this reunion was over-reliant on familiar clips and padding. If not a squandered opportunity exactly, then not quite the summit I'd hoped for.

Tim Key: the spirit of 'Derek and Clive'

Tim Key's new comedy record recalls the glory days of Peter Cook and Dudley Moore.

Audio: Pete and Dud recordings found

Almost all the lost Peter Cook and Dudley Moore sketches from their television show Not Only... But Also have emerged in a private collection of audio tapes.

A lot of dirt seems to have been dished out about Peter Sellers since his death 30 years ago, mostly honing in on his allegedly volatile temper, family life and unpredictable behaviour on set. But, thankfully, Archive on 4: Sellers in the Attic was just a great, hour-long wallow in his eccentric, unique comedy legacy. It helped that the presenter, comedy writer and historian Glenn Mitchell is clearly a huge Sellers fan, recalling how he scoured local record shops for rare recordings when young. Amid the obvious nods to the Goons and Pink Panther series of hit comedies, the programme contained snippets that gave a real insight of a man totally unimpressed by comic convention and always willing to push boundaries. This includes recording a version of the Beatles' Hard Day's Night in the guise of Laurence Olivier, appearing as a punch drunk boxer turned action painter alongside Peter Cook and Dudley Moore, and mocking the works of poet, William McGonagall, whom he described as truly awful. Given his huge success in Hollywood later in his career, it's a little sad that he describes working with his fellow Goons "as the happiest period of [his] life" in comparison. Warts and all, three decades since his demise, Sellers remains fascinating.

Video: Lost Pete and Dud sketch re-enacted

A lost Peter Cook and Dudley Moore sketch is re-enacted with Dud (played by Adrian Edmondson) waking up screaming from a dream. Pete (played by Jonny Sweet) decides to attempt to decipher Dud's dream using Freud's theories.

The Wardrobe sketch is from the landmark television comedy show, Not Only... But Also which was largely wiped from the BBC archives.

I'm Pete again, aren't I?" said Angus Deayton, during one of the bits of rehearsal actuality that filled out Pete and Dud: the Lost Sketches. You wish, Angus. You wish. Actually, you're Angus Deayton, which is fine as far as it goes, but still leaves a slightly conspicuous gap between towering comic genius and jobbing comedy actor.

It's a gap that would generally pass unremarked, but for the fact that Deayton, and several other contemporary comedians, had accepted the BBC's invitation to restage some Not Only... But Also sketches that the corporation, in a more careless time, had managed to wipe. If the title got you all excited at the thought that someone had found a dusty spool of film in their attic and we were going to see the real thing you will have been disappointed. This was a tribute-band celebration of Pete and Dud, rather as if someone had accidentally destroyed the acetates of St Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band 40-odd years ago, and they'd called in Jedward and Susan Boyle to reconstruct it from sheet music.

That analogy may be a little harsh, perhaps, but the show - one of the last things Jonathan Ross will front up for the BBC before he heads off to ITV - was an odd affair, clumsily blending the preparation for the show with a live-audience studio section in which the assembled players were introduced to do the greatest hits. Most of them, wisely, had decided not emulate the original delivery, not exactly inimitable - since the accents and manner almost instantly fed into every playground and student bar in Britain - but not easy to imitate well. That meant, though, that the focus necessarily shifted to the writing - the lines being the only residue of the original. Some of it stood up well. In one of the more famous "Dagenham dialogues", in which Pete tries to take Dud through rebirthing therapy, you could catch the authentic flavour of Peter Cook's imagination. When Dud protests at the idea that he wants to get back to his mother's womb, Pete is quick to clarify matters: "I'm not suggesting that you go around now to 465 Beckingtree Avenue and ask your mother for re-admission," he says, "It's four o'clock in the morning... and anyway it's illegal."

But in other sketches the raw words were left looking a little thin and you realised how important the volatile elements of a comedy partnership can be - the intangible stuff (including all the corpsing) - which they added to the printed words and which can only be captured by a recording. Some of the restagings here were frankly embarrassing, carrying the stale whiff of a thousand am-dram revues in which devoted fans vainly attempt to get lightning to strike twice. It was a reminder of just how good the originals could be, but not perhaps in quite the way that was first intended. "The BBC has wiped these tapes now... is that a big loss?" Jonathan Ross asked someone lamely at one point. Well if they hadn't we might have been spared this, which would have been something.

Was it madness or arrogance that persuaded the volunteers on Pete And Dud: The Lost Sketches that they could sketch in the shadow of genius? The idea of the likes of Angus Deayton and Adrian Edmondson attempting to emulate the comedy chemistry of Peter Cook and Dudley Moore seemed like the product of a lock-in after the Baftas. In other words, it should never have survived the cold light of day.

Yet, though it was light on belly laughs and clearly in thrall to its source material, Pete And Dud: The Lost Sketches was oddly entertaining. Introduced by lifelong Pete and Dud fan Jonathan Ross (and for once he seemed genuine), the set of sketches performed - 'lost' in the sense that the BBC unbelievably wiped the original TV tapes, so they only survive in audio or script form - at least served as a priceless reminder of one of the truly great comedy pairings.

It was like watching a rock tribute band who know all the words and get the notes in the right place. You could sing along but inevitably there was a spark missing. It was the brief clips of the real Pete And Dud that were worth sticking around for, the mix of surreal allusion, schoolboy smut and lady frocks making it clear how much the duo influenced everyone from The Fast Show to Little Britain.

There was a missed opportunity in the mix: Stephen Fry and David Mitchell, only featured as talking heads, would have made a perfect Pete and Dud.

Instead the originals were lovingly, though palely, imitated, new boy Jonny Sweet coming closest to catching the anarchic 1960s spirit that Pete and Dud encapsulated.

Now what we need is a series that rounds up every clip that still exists.