Sharon Lougher

We probably didn't need a remake of Leonard Rossiter's The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin, given that middle-class/workplace alienation has now been parodied so effectively in the likes of Men Behaving Badly, The Office and Peep Show. Still, the first episode of this latest airing - which now sees Reggie as a bored razor blade guru - is thoroughly watchable thanks mostly to a cutting script and a sterling performance by Martin Clunes.

Making the jump to TV is this Radio 4 staple in which Dave Gorman and a celebrity guest consider 'genius' inventions from the public. Radio is probably the most logical home for the simple premise but this actually works quite well if you view it as some kind of idiot's version of Dragon's Den. In this series opener, Gorman and guest Catherine Tate consider a bus whose destination is decided on by public vote, and a man who wants 100m-high shoes for a very specific purpose.

It's sad to see this excellently scripted and naturally played sitcom come to an end tonight but it does, at least, end in style. Helen and Alex's testy, will-they-won't-they relationship reaches an interesting and poignant denouement, and Anthony Head's gleefully horrible Stephen is given a great opportunity to go into lasciviousness overdrive with Stephanie Beacham. More please.

The programme in which Marcus Brigstocke cajoles some famous faces to do something they've never done before or actively avoided - he forced Barry Cryer to watch an episode of Friends and Joan Bakewell to have a beatboxing lesson - leaps off the radio and on to the small screen. Tongiht's first episode sees Clive Anderson broaden his cultural horizons.

Normally, one-liners are best left in the realms of Christmas crackers. But Lee Mack and Tim Vine are two of the best in the business at dreaming them up and machine-gunning them out, which makes this sitcom such a fun maelstrom of ridiculousness, and one that trumpets its own cheesiness. And no, Mack can't really act - but as the loose-moralled lead who'll do anything to get the girl, he strikes the perfect balance of loathsomeness and lovability.

Al Murray dispenses with his stupendous Pub Landlord incarnation in favour of an ensemble sketch piece that, like his TV career to date, is a bit hit and miss. It's memorable mostly for being loud, colourful and a bit filthy... but then Murray is never a mand to tend towards subtlety. Jenny Eclair and Kevin Bishop gamely join him in the fun.

The addictive postmodern parody of the TV producer's world returns tonight, with Echo Beach having been ditched ("it was s*** and no one watched it" declares the knowing script) and with a sense of desperation pervading the office of the callous Jonathan Pope (Ben Miller). After some sublime verbal tennis between the Pope and the icy Head of ITV Drama (Raquel Cassidy), and one ridiculous twist of fate, the gang start work on a new proposition - a bizarre zombie drama called Renaissance. Based on this sizzling start, it looks like Moving Wallpaper will do a fine job flying solo.

Talent agents Alex and Helen start this new sitcom having sex. But all is not well - Helen is getting over tyhe death of her fiance and scruffbag Alex's pursuit of her becomes more desperate as she pleads that he get over his divorce first. Episode one shows huge promise; Mangan is a likeable foil to Helen's cynical world view, there's some great knoc-em-dead visual gags and Chris Neil's punchy script drives things along with unflinching honesty. Plus, there's the ever marvellous Anthony Head playing the highly sexed agency boss.

Yet more good ideas pop up from this dig at the most desperate corners of multichannel TV. Highlights include a cliche-ridden cookery programme that teaches us how to microwave tomato soup and the splendidly vacuous show Street Threesome... yes, it's as pointless as you'd imagine.

This new series, one of the last projects from the late, great producer Geoffrey Perkins, is so reliant on the richness of its writing over its direction that it betrays its origins as a radio series. Stick it on while you're making dinner and revel in the exchanges between two seemingly respectable housewives, who started penning their missives after they got sloshed together at a wedding. Keeping Up Appearances with an added dose of melancholy.