Peter Richardson (I)

To celebrate the 30th anniversary of Five Go Mad In Dorset - a brilliant hour-long satire of Enid Blyton which went out on Channel 4's opening night in 1982 - G.O.L.D. has commissioned a new Comic Strip episode featuring the original cast. Entitled Five Go to Rehab, it follows Julian (Peter Richardson), Anne (Jennifer Saunders), George (Dawn French) and Dick (Adrian Edmonson) as they reunite for one last adventure. Perhaps inevitably, it lacks the revolutionary zeal of the first outing, but is nevertheless genuinely funny.

Marking 30 years since inaugural Strip offering Five Go Mad in Dorset, Peter Richardson reunites the team in cosy Middle England. Original cast members Jennifer Saunders, Adrian Edmondson and Dawn French (and canine Timmy) star again as the Five, back together after 30 years apart, a spell that has forced four-fifths of the quintet to confront the grim reality of modern life. Following last year's weak Hunt For Tony Blair, this is a pleasing return to form - funny, thrilling and a little touching.

'Now we're on the dole channel,' chuckles Peter Richardson at the end of this Comic Strip retrospective-cum-lap of honour. Even so, such reduced circumstances can't detract from a 30-year career which has been patchy but periodically inspired. As an appetiser for the gang's forthcoming new film Five Go Mad in Rehab on Wednesday, this lengthy doc ambles, sometimes at glacial pace, down memory lane with the help of fans and collaborators including Simon Pegg, Stephen Mangan and Ross Noble. The duration might be a stretch for casual fans, but as fans of 'the dole channel' will know, there's always plenty of space to be filled. Still, the Strip's best moments (The Strike, GLC) still look gleefully, recklessly brilliant - it's hard to imagine frontline politicians being satirised so scabrously in today's more timid TV climate.

We see so little of The Comic Strip ensemble these days that it's easy to forget how long they've been in the trenches of British spoof, tossing out a grenade every now and then, as if cursed to spend the rest of their days striving to match the perfection of their hilarious first episode, "Five Go Mad in Dorset", which introduced high jinks to Channel 4's inaugural broadcast in 1982 and the term "lashings of ginger beer" to the cultural memory.

"The Hunt for Tony Blair" - a parodic splicing of noughties politics and 1950s British film noir (though what Herman's Hermits were doing on the soundtrack I don't know) - wasn't uproariously funny but it was handsomely made, with melodramatic shadows and enough money for fog, flat-footed policemen and steam trains. The plot, such as it was - a madcap chase across country, with the PM on the run for murder - threw up knockabout humour and vignettes from Blair's WMD fiasco, featuring a cast of the usual suspects: a languid Nigel Planer as Mandelson; Harry Enfield in East End shout mode as "Alastair"; the excellent Jennifer Saunders as Thatcher in her dotage (and full Barbara Cartland drag), watching footage of her Falklands triumphs from a chaise longue.

Director Peter Richardson, whose comic talents aren't seen enough on screen, played George Bush as a rasping B-movie Italian mobster ("I'm gonna get straight to the crotch of the matter here"). With the exception of impressionist Ronni Ancona (whose 10 seconds as Barbara Windsor seemed puzzlingly extraneous), no one went for a direct impersonation. Stephen Mangan didn't make a bad Blair, though he could have worked on the grin, and he couldn't quite make his mind up between feckless and reckless as he capered from one mishap to the next leaving a trail of bodies. Did Blair's moral insouciance ("Yet another unavoidable death, but, hey, shit happens") call for a look of idiocy or slipperiness?

The comedy had mischief at its heart in mooting that Blair had bumped off his predecessor, John Smith, and accidentally pushed Robin Cook off a Scottish mountain, while Robbie Coltrane's Inspector Hutton (aha!) tacitly invoked the spectre of Dr David Kelly (we never found out who Blair was charged with murdering). But it was hard to squeeze fresh satire from the overfamiliar stodge of the politics ("Tell Gordon to run the country and trust the bankers"). Mangan was at his funniest hiding among sheep in the back of a truck or kicking Ross Noble (playing an old socialist) off a speeding train, though there was amusement elsewhere. I had to laugh at variety theatre act Professor Predictor, shoehorned into the story to enable Rik Mayall in a bald wig and boffin glasses to answer questions from the audience. Would the Beatles still be at No 1 in 50 years' time?

"No. The Beatles will no longer exist. But Paul McCartney will marry a woman with one leg."

How the audience roared. "Pull the other one," someone shouted. Arf, arf.

Biting political satire has never really been The Comic Strip's main selling point.

But films such as a "A Fistful Of Travellers' Cheques" or "Five Go Mad In Dorset", which took the mickey out of spaghetti westerns and Enid Blyton novels, proved that you don't always need a big target to score a cracking comedy bullseye.

Their latest effort - the first for six years - is a peculiar, stylish mishmash that re-imagines the Iraq Inquiry as a black and white film noir. ­Unfortunately, not all of it works, perhaps because their confusing vision of the 1960s contains songs from both The Beatles and Duran Duran.

That said, Stephen Mangan - of Green Wing and Alan Partridge fame - makes a surprisingly plausible stand-in for the former, guitar-strumming Prime Minister who, very much like Corrie's John Stape, becomes an almost accidental serial killer.

As the bodies pile up, he's pursued by a pair of policemen played by Robbie Coltrane and The ­Inbetweeners' James Buckley, all the while ­maintaining an air of innocence.

There's no appearances from ­stalwarts such as Dawn French or Adrian Edmondson this time around, but Jennifer Saunders pops in with another take on Margaret Thatcher.

We also have Rik Mayall playing a music-hall psychic who makes uncanny predictions about weapons of mass destruction, Peter Richardson, who also directs, pops up as George Bush in gangster mode, and Nigel Planer simply IS Peter Mandelson.

The joke seems to be not how much the actors look like the people they're supposed to be playing, rather how much they don't.

You'd never guess in a million years that John Sessions is supposed to be Norman Tebbit, for instance.

Peter Richardson on The Hunt for Tony Blair - audio

Comic Strip creator Peter Richardson tells John Plunkett about the cast and production of "The Hunt For Tony Blair".

Purveyors of elegant pastiche for almost 30 years, The Comic Strip - aka writer/director Peter Richardson - mixed recent political history with British post-war thriller to produce The Hunt For Tony Blair.

Loosely based upon The Thirty Nine Steps, with a multitude of other film references thrown in for good measure, it told of how the former Labour prime minister became a fugitive from the law following the invasion of Iraq, WMD fiasco and attempted assassination of a stage memory man.
Atmospherically enhanced by the stark black and white photography, The Hunt For Tony Blair was characteristically well crafted, continually clever, crammed with comic details and energetically paced. Over an hour's duration the conceit was stretched pretty thin, subtlety frequently went as AWOL as Blair, and there was a noticeable absence of belly laughs, but The Comic Strip once again proved its pedigree as one of British TV comedy's truly class acts.

Stephen Mangan, managing a very creditable vocal impersonation, starred as a bright eyed, bushy tailed and cheerfully amoral Blair, who also provided a suitably disingenuous narration. No Alexei Sayle, alas, but the rest of The Comic Strip repertory company were present and correct in a variety of supporting roles. Even swathed beneath layers of costume and make up, Rik Mayall was instantly recognizable by his shameless overacting, but it was Nigel Planer who stole the show as an oleaginous Peter Mandelson or, as investigating officer DI Hutton (Robbie Coltrane) preferred to call him, "Squealer".

The only false note was when the story quite literally went off the beaten track to visit Margaret Thatcher's country retreat, shared with obsequious butler Tebbitt and a skeleton in the closet that turned out to be Denis. Jennifer Saunders played Thatcher, having already played Meryl Streep playing Margaret Thatcher in The Comic Strip's Strike. In a perverse and curious case of life imitating art, the real Meryl Streep is soon to be seen as Thatcher in a feature film called The Iron Lady.

So as The Comic Strip has been revived, it makes a certain sense that the result is a decade-mashing melange which tells a warped version of Tony Blair's PM years, taking place in an anachronistic Britain which looks like the 1950s, ripping off The 39 Steps, Sunset Boulevard, The Godfather and, understandably, The Comic Strip themselves. Or rather, Peter Richardson, for though never reaching the same heights as his former colleagues, the director pretty much was The Comic Strip. He's brought back some of the old crew, including Rik Mayall, Robbie Coltrane, Nigel Planer and John Sessions.

For some, the intentionally over the top nonsense of Blair going on the run from 'Inspector Hutton of Scotland Yard' after faking evidence for the Iraq War - complete with lines like "It felt like the whole world was against me, apart from Barbara Windsor of course" - will not be enough to excuse the spoof from its nastier accusations: Blair's shown murdering John Smith and Robin Cook, while Thatcher (played by Jennifer Saunders, naturally) is a monstrous Norma Desmond luring him to bed.

Yes, this isn't exactly sophisticated satire, but it is surprisingly funny in places, with Stephen Mangan capturing Blair's wide-eyed insouciance. While it references the 50s visually, it actually evokes nostalgia for the 80s, when having a childish pop at the people in power felt dangerous - like it could genuinely change things. And the darkest comic line is a real one: "Hey, in the end, only God and history can judge me," says Tony.

You can see why this Famous Five parody caused a stir when it was first broadcast as part of Channel 4's opening night back in 1982. Seeing a sacred cow like Enid Blyton slaughtered in such a fashion must have been a shock for some, but it remains a spot-on spoof. Peter Richardson and Pete Richens's script takes in the Five's casual sexism, their obsession with food and the clunky plot exposition of the books ("blah blah blah stolen plans, blah blah blah missing scientist") while gloriously ratcheting up the racial prejudices of the 1950s. Merciless, but jolly entertaining.