Rebecca Front

"There goes a tiebreaker in the making: who was Nicola Murray?" says a wag. Poor Nicola (Rebecca Front), her every move dogged by a man dressed as a pork chop, finds herself the target of a torpedo of invective from Malcolm Tucker.

Even for Tucker, this is strong stuff: "You've all the charm of a rotting teddybear by a graveside... you headless frump" is one of the milder insults in a firestorm of abuse as he throws Nicola out of what used to be her office in front of her successor, that suave Dalek Dan Miller.

It's a messy episode that tips into pandemonium when a leaked email sets off a chain reaction.

"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.

While you'd hardly call the voice of Malcolm Tucker comforting, there's something reassuring about this return to familiar waters. And tonight offers proof, if any were needed, that rank incompetence isn't limited to coalition government. With Nicola Murray (Rebecca Front) over-promoted to leader of the opposition and undermined by her supposed allies, Malcolm's rage is now as impotent as his schemes are fiendish. A shadow cabinet meeting vies for most excruciating set-piece with a press conference, at which Nicola endorses universally derided government policies and Malcolm is moved to ponder, 'What the fuck is this? Tinker, tailor, soldier, cunt?'. Acutely well-observed, impeccably cast and acerbically performed: only real-world politics could offer such a toxic onslaught of gallows humour.

Wheelchair comedy is no laughing matter, says spa boss

New Sky comedy starring Rebecca Front, of The Thick Of It, is criticised for featuring a fitness instructor confined to a wheelchair.

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.

Rebecca Front interview

Rebecca Front talks about the new series of The Thick Of It, working with Peter Capaldi and why she enjoys ordering around Kevin Whately in Lewis.

On balance the BBC probably picked the worst week to launch the new series of The Thick Of It. Because no matter how funny the opener was it could never have been as amusing as the fallout from David Cameron's Cabinet reshuffle.

Of course, you may question how anything in life could possibly be funnier than Peter Capaldi's potty-mouthed spin doctor Malcolm Tucker - and you'd be right. But Tucker wasn't in it. And neither was Rebecca Front's Nicola Murray, his most recent sparring partner.

Still, as a scene-setter for the new Coalition era it did manage some laugh-out-loud moments. And the return of Roger Allam's gloriously withering Minister Peter Mannion was most welcome.

Although, not as welcome as the trailer for next Saturday's episode. Because Tucker is back. Murray is back. And the hair of Chris Addison's oily Ollie is insipidly slicked back. Happy (expletive deleted) days, as Tucker might say.