Robert Webb

After 11 series between 1994 and 2007, Room 101, the torture chamber containing the most horrendous things in the universe, must already be pretty full.

I imagine it looking a bit like my loft - filled with all that random clutter you don't want but that the binmen won't collect either: BBC2 logos, jellyfish, Anne Robinson, people who look like cats and the year 1975, just for starters.

The revamped Room 101 sees Frank Skinner as the host presiding over three guests, each competing to have their pet hates consigned to pretend oblivion.

It's a good move, ensuring no more of those awkward pauses as guests rack their brains for more hilarious reasons why they can't stand the skin on rice puddings or novelty underpants.

Tonight Robert Webb, Fern Britton and Danny Baker battle it out before Skinner makes his final decree.

The format has been revamped. Frank Skinner is in the chair and, rather than chance the quality of an edition on a single guest, they've spread their bets across a panel of three, with Skinner determining which of their peeves - growing up, film and TV, etc - will descend into Room 101. There's a less whimsical, slightly harder edge to the guests' critiques; Danny Baker rails against "cool" with a written, prepared text dripping with bile, Robert Webb lays into Jeremy Kyle with undisguised scorn and even Fern Britton has a go at the homework heaped on today's kids.

This seemingly moribund series is rebooted with a new format and host, and, on tonight's evidence, it's got fresh legs. Frank Skinner takes over as presenter; and now, instead of one celebrity naming his or her bugbears, three panellists vie for their pet peeves to be banished to oblivion. The eight-part series kicks off with Fern Britton, Danny Baker and Robert Webb naming their bêtes noires, and Skinner deciding after each round which one deserves entry into Room 101. In the past, the series sank or swam according to how entertaining the guest was - here, the banter creates sparks, as Skinner deftly orchestrates the conversation with the same verve he displays in Opinionated. Refreshingly, the panellists aren't the same old faces on the circuit, and each gets a chance to shine: Britton raises the men's ire by criticising sci-fi, and Baker provokes the others by nominating TV panel shows. Future episodes are likely to prove edgy, too, with John Prescott and Germaine Greer lined up. The schedules groan with panel shows, as Baker rightly notes, but there's room for this light-hearted offering celebrating the joy of a good old rant.

One of the small pleasures of Room 101.1 was that you learned a lot about the people who were submitting things. It was an interview by proxy. No more, though. The BBC have decided to turn it into a panel show. Why not, eh? Well, despite that annoyance, this is actually a pretty good start. Three likeable people, Danny Baker (who tries to put panel shows "a virus - Jeremy Kyle that's been to college" in and wears disturbingly bright white socks), Fern Britton and Robert Webb put their ideas to Frank Skinner, who is extremely good at this kind of thing. Be warned, however, the audience are extremely excitable and liable to applaud absolutely anything.

Robert Webb wants to put Jeremy Kyle into Room 101

Peep Show star Robert Webb has revealed that he can't stand Jeremy Kyle and his "bear pit" show.

Room 101 is reducing the numeral of its network, moving from BBC2 to BBC1, while increasing the number of participants. Whereas previous hosts Nick Hancock and Paul Merton quizzed a single celebrity about their little list of things to be eliminated, new chairman Frank Skinner has a trio competing to delete. Friday's first panel is Fern Britton, Danny Baker and Robert Webb.

This is a big alteration - a chat-show becoming a panel game - and the presumable justification is a move to a more mainstream panel, although the obvious risk is that a show which had a distinctive premise and form has been made to look like several others. Rather inconveniently, Webb will have been seen 48 hours earlier on BBC1 in the now structurally similar Would I Lie To You?

Robert Webb hates having a bald patch

Peep Show star Robert Webb hates his bald patch because it makes him look so much older.

It's odd for a new sitcom to start with a Christmas special, but The Bleak Old Shop of Stuff has. Clearly the BBC has faith in it.

Perhaps that isn't surprising. Being based on the popular Radio 4 Dickensian sitcom Bleak Expectations is already a good enough start. Throw in a cast of, amongst others, Mitchell and Webb, Stephen Fry, Katherine Parkinson and Pauline McLynn into the mix then you should end up with a wonderful piece of work.

Robert Webb plays Jedrington Secret-Past, the owner of The Old Shop of Stuff, London's leading retailer of miscellaneous odd things. The special revolves around his attempts to pay off a certain debt he owes to evil solicitor Malifax Skulkingworm (Fry) before London's three great alliterative bells (Big Ben, Massive Morris and Tiny Terry) ring in Christmas Day.

Anyone familiar with Bleak Expectations will know the sort of humour to expect. It's silly and unashamed of it. This is the only show to feature such things as a bird known as the tinsel tit, Santa Claus on a crucifix, The A to D of London and a man being arrested for crying. Some critics may think that this programme is too silly, but I say sometimes you need something silly to lift up your spirits.

My only problem with this show is that I'm somewhat perplexed by the fact that they didn't just simply adapt the original Bleak Expectations for television, rather than create a brand new project. Yes, I like Jedrington Secret-Past and Malifax Skulkingworm, but I like Sir Philip 'Pip' Bin and Mr. Gently Benevolent too. I'd love to see them appear on screen some time...

One of the first proper Christmas specials to be shown this year was The Bleak Old Shop Of Stuff - a television "reimagining" of writer Mark Evans's BBC Radio 4 comedy series Bleak Expectations. Despite being totally up my street, I've never properly caught this Dickensian spoof in its audio form, but with the likes of Stephen Fry and Robert Webb on board, I wasn't about to miss the TV version.

And I tell you want, it's a hell of lot weirder than I thought it would be. When Jedrington Secret-Past (Webb) closes up shop for the festive period, his little daughter gives him a Jam Spaniel (a tiny dog-shaped jam roly poly pudding...) as a Christmas present, and when he goes off to get ingredients for the Christmas feast, he's given a brace of "Tinsel-Tits".

Odd. But really good. This was silly stuff that was both broad and surreal and there were some brilliant cameos - especially from the wonderful Celia Imrie.

The nostalgic can wallow in plenty of retro-fare this Christmas, from old Morecambe and Wise specials, by way of Tommy Cooper repeats and this splendid profile of the poker-faced comedian who was still selling vacuum cleaners at the age of 38 when, in 1967, he had one last throw of the dice and entered Opportunity Knocks. Dawson's deadpan humour is appreciated here by John Cleese, Robert Webb ("it's quite easy to play the piano badly and not be funny") and Russell Kane ("some of us younger people did muddle him up with John Prescott"). Touchingly, Dawson stopped cracking mother-in-law jokes when his wife's mother died.