Val Arnold-Forster

If you haven't been listening to The Queen And I (Radio 4, daily until next Tuesday), you must. Not so much for the story, an abridgement by Elizabeth Proud of Sue Townsend's latest novel, as for the reading. The tale of a republican electoral victory resulting in the Royal Family's move (or, as the social worker puts it, relocation) to a council estate is both prescient and amusing. But Miriam Margolyes's reading, produced by John Tydeman, is a bravura performance.

Frank Muir Goes... Green (Radio 4, Wednesday) was another eco-contribution. Some good jokes, some terrible ones and proof, as if we needed it, that the old satirists, Flanders and Swann, Tom Lehrer and Ogden Nash are still the best.

The delightful nostalgia series. Carry On Up The Zeitgeist (Radio 4, Fridays and Wednesdays) got to That Was The Week That Was. Edward Blishen recalled its mould-breaking irreverence, cleverness, youthfulness and its moments of touching seriousness - like the response to Kennedy's assassination. What I remember best is one of those subtitles under the closing credits which told me that Mrs Gladstone made a cup of tea every morning from the previous night's hot water bottle. Can that be true?

But what finally convinced me that On The Hour had made its own mark on radio comedy was its effrontery in taking a hefty lunge at its stablemate The Week Ending, "The long-running, irreverent romp through the week's news". An inside glimpse of the planning meeting, mild sneers at the pace, the students' union flavour - and, unkindest cut of all, a crack about giving "Old and middle class people in the south-east something to chuckle about".

Another newcomer to radio comedy is The Harpoon [...] a spoof of the oldie-worldie Boy's Own (and Girl's Own) papers, also a spot of the old Children's Hour educational numbers. Again, cleverly written and performed, and well paced. It had something of the Glen Baxter cartoons, progenitor of the chattering classes' favourite postcards.

A look back over The Week Ending reminded us of the cautiousness with which this programme has been treated over the years: in its early days, BBC bigwigs listened in and discussed every barb. And only in 1987 was it allowed to remain on the air during a general election. [...] I'm quite certain that the quality of jokes has gone up (yes, some misfire still, but a surprising number are slap on target) and that the jokes are harder-hitting, too.

At Home With The Hardys (Radio 4, Saturdays and Thursdays) is fairly dire. There's a dreadfully jokey narrator and gags about traffic wardens. Worst of all, it is about four unbelievable, suburban young people: if you find the concept of yuppies uninviting, what about sub-yuppies?

I'm in a slight puzzle, as King Street is starting the new school year already. But the characters are already re-established (a new love affair, a new flat and the dread music teacher is going to "help" Mr Long with science.) I'm amazed by the way author Jim Eldridge wrings a modicum of wit and certainly many wry smiles out of staff-room goings-on.

And what about the jokes of Victor Lewis-Smith on Radio 1 (Saturdays, repeated Fridays). He is undoubtedly a funny fellow, full of breakneck wisecracks and all sorts of voices. But some of his jokes appear to be made at the expense of ordinary people. Who, for instance, was the receptionist asked to find, of all people, Haile Selassie? And how funny is it that some of us don't recognise the old emperor's name?

Personally, I suspect the relationships in After Henry (Radio 4, Tuesdays and Thursdays) are nearer the mark. Maybe the grannie, as played by the admirable Joan Sanderson, is a bit of a caricature; and since the series comes into the general category of light entertainment, the reactions are oversimplified. But the three women - grandmother, mother and daughter - represent no more than a slight exaggeration of real life.