Robert Webb

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.

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.

Here's a sneering corrective if you're worried about all that enforced merriment to come. Sean Lock hosts this Christmas edition of the comic debate show. Plus there's the sight of Robert Webb, Seann Walsh, Jason Manford and Micky Flanagan acting like five argumentative, drunken uncles souring the mood at the family lunch.

Despite the debating society format, most topics dissolve into blokey, filthy banter - all right, they start out pretty blokey and filthy. You may not come away imbued with festive spirit, but at least Sean Lock reveals Santa's true appearance - a cross between the X-Men's Wolverine and Peter Crouch. Watch out for him this Christmas, kids!

Looking a little like that Blackadder Christmas special set in Dickensian London, except with CGI backgrounds and ludicrous special effects, The Bleak Old Shop Of Stuff was a very odd thing. After no time at all you'd already been whacked with multiple gags - at an estimated rate of one throwaway line per demi-minute - to the point they were coming at you so fast, there was no time to discern whether or not a statue of the Duke of Wellington carved from pineapple or a 'jam spaniel' were funny or not. The hit rate was far from perfect, but with such a rampant flurry of wilful stupidity, it was hard to feel cheated.

The story, which ultimately rambled into near-incoherence, saw Robert Webb as Jedrington Secret-Past (silly names were par for the course), pitted against Stephen Fry's evil lawyer, Malifax Skulkingworm, effectively a Melchett-esque villain who was out to bankrupt him over a debt his grandfather had worked up in the distant past. Katherine Parkinson put in a decent turn as Jedrington's treacle-addicted wife, and there were also cameos from the likes of David Mitchell as a workhouse owner who inexplicably inflated every time he got excited. And Johnny Vegas showed up for no real reason too.

This was written and crafted by the people behind Radio 4's Bleak Expectations, and that radio link was clear to see. This was obviously a transfer of sorts, with the kind of script that would work perfectly on radio, with all those strange descriptions of things like 'treacle-fiends' and Big Ben's cousin, 'Tiny Terry' firing the imagination with their idiotic simplicity. Transferring such silliness to the small screen was always likely to be a risk, but despite The Bleak Shop of Stuff possibly sitting on just the wrong side of silly, it still managed to raise a few chuckles. Those who revel in silliness pushed to its absolute limits will doubtless find themselves in seventh heaven.