Simon Callow

Rob Brydon's legendary geniality is exploited as the host of BBC1's new Saturday-evening game show The Guess List, in which a panel of celebrities help two contestants to answer a wide variety of wacky questions. Sound familiar? It is so obviously a rehash of Blankety Blank, it is a mystery why they didn't just call it that and be done with it.

The celebrities, it has to be said, are top-notch. That is to say, I had heard of all of them. But having recruited guests of such high calibre as Jennifer Saunders, Simon Callow and James Corden, the show gave them practically nothing to do, while the host hardly let them get a word in. Brydon was manic to the point of hyperactive from the off, and never eased up for a second. It was as though he felt a single-handed responsibility to keep the programme going - yet the more frantic his efforts, the more uncomfortable the viewing experience.

The show was essentially a take on the classic Blankety Blank as two contestants answer a series of mundane questions alongside a panel of famous faces. However, The Guest List sees the panel answer the question first before the contestant can then agree with one of their answers or choose their own.

The highlight of the entire show though is the presentation style of host Rob Brydon, who realises how ludicrous the entire programme is. It's clear that the producers have given Brydon a lot of leeway as he appears to be ad-libbing for large sections of the programme. Due to Brydon's light-hearted style his interaction with the celebrity guests doesn't feel forced and I do think that these segments could've been excruciating when put into the hands of a less jovial host.

Brydon bounced especially well off James Corden due to their existing chemistry as Gavin & Stacey co-stars while gymnast Louis Smith essentially became a performing monkey as he was tasked with both singing and dancing. But the surprise of the evening was the participation of Simon Callow who isn't your stereotypical BBC One panel show star. Callow's tremendous laugh coupled with some of his more outlandish answers made him the perfect foil for Brydon and the two played off each other magnificently.

The tone of most of the questions was slightly suggestive and as this was a pre-watershed programme there was a little bit of smut thrown in. My big criticism was of the format itself, with not one of the celebrities helping the contestants with an answer all evening. But, at the end of the day, that didn't really matter as I found The Guess List to be perfect Saturday night entertainment that didn't ask too much of me as a viewer and provided plenty of laughter throughout.

Say what you like about Rob Brydon - and I certainly plan to - but he hosts a brain-ruining celebrity quiz show with aplomb. Those hours spent remaining cheerful while dining opposite Steve Coogan's wet-weekend-in-Ancoats face on The Trip to Italy are certainly paying dividends.

How bad is The Guess List (BBC1)? It's as likely as Michael McIntyre's chatshow to make it to a second series. It makes Would I Lie to You?, Brydon's other quiz show, seem like a work of shattering genius.

That said, I couldn't look away. "How lovely to be this close to a fox and not worry it's going to sniff round your bins," said Brydon introducing his first celebrity guest, Emilia Fox. "I speak for everybody when I say I loved The Vicar of Dibley," he said, introducing Jennifer Saunders. He went on with similar amiable insults to the other usual suspects (Simon Callow, Louis Smith, James Corden), while they kept their smiles mirthlessly frozen. If there isn't yet a Bafta for best rictus in quiz show adversity, it is only a matter of time.

The idea is, five celebrities come up with a plausible answer to a question, and then two contestants have to decide which, if any of those suggestions, is most plausible. For example: "According to a poll, what should old people do three times a week to help them live longer?" "Tango," said Callow, insanely. "Orgasm," said Corden, sensibly. "Exercise," said Smith, boringly. The answer? Oh come on! It's have sex.

Only one of the contestants seemed to have trouble with The Guess List's concept. Naturally, she won. But then she also told us she'd moved from Birmingham to Australia after watching Wanted Down Under, which is the very definition of madness.

Celebrity input seemed so superfluous that the show could readily have been renamed Pointless Celebrities. Here's my question: "Which of the following collective nouns is the odd one out: A) murder of crows; B) whoop of gorillas; C) busyness of ferrets; D) pointlessness of celebrities?" Answer: D) I want to hear more from the other three.

Radio Times review

In theory we have a new game show here but in practice, that's overstating it. This is a chance for Rob Brydon to flex his comic muscles as bullying, joshing host. There's a good ten minutes of jokey chit-chat at the start as we meet the celebrity panel ("Emilia Fox... have you ever done a real autopsy?") and then the contestants. The game itself is so barely there that after half an hour (and this really isn't a spoiler) only one point has been scored.

But Brydon's relentless comic energy drives the thing on as he tries to get Simon Callow to tango or has Louis Smith sing a song with James Corden. It's hard to resist smiling in the face of the Brydon hurricane but we could do with more game and less show.

Best Possible Taste - The Kenny Everett Story opens with a pair of false teeth in a glass of water gurgling a variation on the standard biopic warning: "It's based on a true story, but some of the scenes have been 'scrungled'. It also contains... naughty bits."

Dropped into Kenny's weird and wonderful world, we are immediately reacquainted with several of its celebrated inhabitants, including Cupid Stunt, Sid Snot, Brother Lee Love, Angry of Mayfair and Marcel Wave. They are on hand to help recount the life and career of the consistently self-destructive, frequently self-loathing and sometimes self-centred radio and TV maverick.

Oliver Lansley perfectly captures Everett and his multiple incarnations. Katherine Kelly plays his wife, Lee, and Simon Callow puts in a suitably luvvie turn as Dickie Attenborough, who rescues the much-sacked Cuddly Ken from the broadcasting wilderness of producing jingles for a carpet warehouse.

I recommend Best Possible Taste, a warm, witty and respectful tribute to the ground-breaking DJ and comedian Kenny Everett that, while never shying away from the more troubled aspects of his character, actually goes out of its way to celebrate his genius.

Closer in spirit to the delightful Eric & Ernie and Tony Roche's winningly irreverent Holy Flying Circus - Ev's comic alter-egos, from Sid Snot to Cupid Stunt, act as a Greek chorus throughout - it's clearly a labour of love from screenwriter Tim Whitnall, whose ability to write about comedians with affectionate insight was previously established by his award-winning stage-play Morecambe.

With Ev's ex-wife and soul-mate Lee and his key collaborator Barry Cryer both acting as consultants, Whitnall's film abounds with a sense of anecdotal charm and detail that so many of these biopics lack. Sure, it begins with our hero recovering from a suicide attempt, and pivots around his struggle to come to terms with his homosexuality, but it never treats him crassly. Instead he's portrayed as an inveterate rebel with a self-destructive streak, whose total mastery of his craft clashed with his private anxieties. That's artists for you.

Framed as an unorthodox love story between Ev and Lee, it's a touching portrait of a sensitive, brilliant, loveable, maddening man trying to find his place in the world, before tragically passing away years before his time. Newcomer Oliver Lansley is simply outstanding in the lead role, inhabiting Ev's various personae - including his softly-spoken actual self - with uncanny accuracy and depth. If this magnificent performance isn't rewarded with a BAFTA next year, then I'll shake my fist at the sun in anger. That'll show them.

Ex-Coronation Street actress Katherine Kelly provides excellent support as the strong-willed Lee, and there are even a few colourful cameos from Freddie Mercury, Michael Winner and Dickie Attenborough (the latter essayed by Simon Callow in Full-Callow mode).

While many of these biopics often look as though they were made for the price of a packet of Swan Vestas, director James Strong does wonders with his resources here, producing a beautiful, inventive piece that its late subject may well have approved of. Alas, the budget cuts at BBC Four suggest that this will be their last drama for quite some time. But at least they've gone out on a high.

By "them" they mean those people, and by "that thing" they mean several different things, or programmes, that have been funny on Channel 4. They (the people) include Kayvan Novak (Fonejacker), Sally Phillips (Smack the Pony) and Blake Harrison (The Inbetweeners). But they were upstaged in Them from That Thing, a two-part sketch show with a hit-rate of, I'd say, about 40 per cent, by "proper" actors such as Simon Callow, Bill Patterson and Denis Lawson. The highlight: a libidinous Callow in a satin dressing gown receiving his order of one banana from a supermarket as a ruse to flirt with the delivery boy, saying: "I've been running short of these yellow bitches."

Them From That Thing - Episode 1.1 review

I can only presume that everyone involved thought, 'Sod a good quality script, so long as we have this lot on board and Simon Callow making an appearance, that'll see us through'.

Kayvan Novak, Sally Phillips, Morgana Robinson and Blake Harrison take turns to spoof a series of generic dramatic set-ups (the crime scene, the politician's mea culpa, the workplace) in this promising new sketch show scripted by a team including Charlie Brooker and Ben Caudell. A quality supporting cast of 'serious' actors, including Simon Callow, Ewen Bremner and Bill Paterson, provide the essential foundation of gravitas - it's worth a look just to see a poker-faced Denis Lawson ask, 'What kind of trousers does a cunt wear?' - while someone has also taken the smart decision not to risk trying the audience's patience with catchphrases or recurring characters. The result is fresh, funny and, impressively, even springs the occasional surprise. Better still, there's more tomorrow.

Funny Fortnight charges on with a sketch show with production values higher, unfortunately, than its writing quality. Still, the sheer range of actors who appear in it is appealing: Sally Phillips, Denis Lawson, Inbetweener Blake Harrison - even Simon Callow.