Ross Noble

A special edition of the show as it hits its 45th birthday. "Am I really that old?" asks 88-year-old host Nicholas Parsons, thinking back to when the series started in 1967, and has to answer himself with an honest "Yes".

Well, old it might be but it's lost none of its wit and edge. Ross Noble is particularly hilarious here - although not very good at scoring actual points.

If I may say this without repetition, hesitation or deviation, a radio institution celebrates an anniversary on Monday as the splendid Nicholas Parsons introduces the panel show he has chaired since its inception in just a minute.

Doubtless the shades of such esteemed departed panellists as Clement Freud and Kenneth Williams will be issuing some hollow challenges from the wings as panellists Ross Noble, Jenny Eclair, Gyles Brandreth and Paul Merton are asked to pontificate on subjects given out in the original series back in 1967, from "Why I Wear a Top Hat" to "Knitting a Cablestitch Jumper".

Will Ross Noble as a killer clown have us in stitches?

Geordie comedian Ross Noble recently broke into films with The Hunt For Tony Blair, appearing as an Old Labour trade unionist. So he's returned from the dead to frighten the kids once already, but in a new film called Stitches he'll star as a clown killed at a children's party who's back for vengeance.

Wrapped up in colourful scarves, Stephen Fry and company are in particularly jovial mood tonight for this festive edition of the esoteric quiz. Answering questions on such subjects as ice and prawns, Ross Noble, Sean Lock, Brian Blessed and Alan Davies prove hilarious company as they reel off a number of anecdotes. For the comedian's quick wits, though, the most amusing moment comes from Lock falling off his chair.

Stephen Fry and his contestants don colourful scarves for a festive edition of the highbrow quiz show that loves a bit of low humour. Brian Blessed gets into the spirit on the subject of ice with some windy anecdotes about the Yeti and his love of husky dogs.

Sean Lock and Ross Noble are the quick wits riffing on Icelandic banking and prawns, while host Fry adopts his stern headmaster persona whenever his "class" seem to be having too much fun.

Like many teachers in the old-fashioned mould, though, he finds his own enjoyment peeking at the sight of one of his boys being humiliated... tonight, it's Lock falling off a chair.

Ross Noble's video essay on stand-up comedy

We caught up with Ross Noble to talk about his new DVD The Headspace Cowboy we quizzed him all about where stand-up is and where it's going.

If you've ever failed to work out the precise purpose of QI, it may help to think of it as in some respects a kind of televisual equivalent of I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue. The show's very pointlessness, unless you're someone with ambitions to bore for Britain on arcane knowledge, is a great part of its charm. Anyway, this year's Christmas episode finds Stephen Fry posing questions on the theme of ice to Brian Blessed, Sean Lock, Ross Noble and Alan Davies.

ITV2's sketch-mistress Katy Brand introduces highlights of the 2011 Laughs in the Park open-air comedy event held in St Albans, which include the event's founding father, Eddie Izzard, fresh from becoming the first solo comedian to perform a gig at the Hollywood Bowl. He and fellow headliner Ross Noble share a gift for meandering absurdity, whether directed at God, the Romans or Bono, but by all accounts the brilliant Irish comic Tommy Tiernan upstaged them both: look out for his bit about mosques and their lack of chairs.

For the first time in six years, The Comic Strip, the comedy which was broadcast on Channel 4's opening night, returns with a film noir spoof on former Prime Minister Tony Blair.

Stephen Mangan played the PM, who finds himself on the run from Inspector Hutton (Robbie Coltrane), who arrests him for a murder Blair claims he didn't commit. During his attempt to escape the law he pushes an Old Labour tramp off a train (Ross Noble), kills a spookily accurate predictor of the future (Rik Mayall) and ends up in bed with Baroness Thatcher (Jennifer Saunders).

This episode features some great performances, from Mangan as Blair, Saunders as Thatcher, Harry Enfield as an "f-word" fuelled Alistair Campbell (still think Malcolm Tucker is the better, ruder and funnier spin doctor), and Nigel Planer's spooky reincarnation of Peter Mandelson. There were plenty of laughs to be had, especially if you're a film noir fan; for example, Rik Mayall's Professor Predictor is a clear parody of Mr. Memory from Hitchcock's The 39 Steps.

There were also actual moments of tension. My favourite bit in the episode featured Blair in Thatcher's mansion, preparing to change for dinner and being told by the butler Tebbit (John Sessions) not to look in a cupboard. Blair obviously does and out of it pops the rotting skeleton body of Dennis Thatcher.

If I were to have any complaints about this programme, it would be that Tony Blair doesn't seem to be that much of a current satirical subject to mock. Not only is Blair no longer Prime Minister, he wasn't even our last Prime Minister. We've had two different people in the position since he's left. If this was made while Blair was still in power it would have had a much bigger impact.

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.