The Thick Of It

Malcolm is to the God-like The Thick Of It what Jedward are to The X Factor. As in the love-to-hate-to-love element that keeps us coming back for more. Want to know how Simon Cowell feels when he looks at Jedward running rampant across his carefully controlled kingdom? Over to Thick Of It punchbag Glenn, who caught the sentiment perfectly: 'I feel like I'm in a therapy group being run by my own rapist.'

It's lines like that, flowing like twisted rivers of bile over characters drowning in their desperation, that lift The Thick Of It head and shoulders above the comedy competition. Sometimes the plot twists can tie you up in knots and this week the moral maze surrounding a people's champion being used as a political puppet pretty much ruptured my blind alley. But then a clueless PR with the social skills of a baboon who explained his presence thus - 'I'm the Nazi guard... only in a non-gassy way' - had me howling too much to care.

Den Of Geek review of episode 3.3

This was another typically strong episode, and there are signs that my previous concern - that the satire on show was mildly dated - is just a sign that the eight-episode run is planning to fully plot the last two years of decline for the governing party.

The Thick of It: series three, episode three

Malcolm's verbal attacks are terrifying enough. But things take a rather stronger turn...

More satirical spin doctoring and creative swearing as Armando Iannucci's political sitcom continues to prowl the corridors of power. It's party conference season, meaning that new Secretary of State Nicola Murray (Rebecca Front, a superb addition to the cast this series) is stuck in an Eastbourne hotel room, writing her speech. No matter how many mini-kettlefuls of coffee they make, however, she and her right-hand oaf Ollie (Chris Addison) can't quite nail it. Until, that is, her hapless adviser Glenn (James Smith) wheels in his secret weapon: a tragic local widow.

It's party conference season and hapless Secretary of State of Social Affairs and Citizenship Nicola Murray is in Eastbourne with her team of self-serving apparatchiks. Of course, she's being stalked by the godfather of spin, Malcolm Tucker, who continues his pitiless assault on Murray's self-confidence. Tucker (Peter Capaldi) manages to torpedo Nicola's big conference speech by hijacking her "applause monkey", a media-savvy, Twitterwise member of the public with a sad story. Yet again, watching Armando Iannucci's withering satire is like being caught in a firestorm of expletives and deliriously offensive jokes. It's a relentlessly testosterone-charged world - Nicola Murray even remarks at one point "it's like being trapped in a boys' toilet" - that's packed with macho posturing from egomaniacal men behaving like competitive baboons. And it's brilliant.

Miles Jupp on being in The Thick of It

When it comes to contrasts, few shows can be quite so... contrasty as Balamory and The Thick of It. Yet Miles Jupp has made his mark on both.

Bonus material: Out of The Thick of It

How much time has Nicola Murray wasted walking up and down the stairs? Just what is going on between Glen and Robyn? And what exactly are journalists for?

Den Of Geek review of episode 3.2

One of the astounding things about The Thick Of It is how quickly you get to know characters. This is only her second episode, and already we've watched a faux-perky Murray declare she is "actually quite a fun person", before descending to have "a face like Dot Cotton licking piss off a nettle" as her department's ineptitude is discovered by Malcolm.

The new series continues of the fizzing, potty-mouthed political comedy created by Armando Iannucci. A week into her new job as secretary of state for the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship, Nicola Murray MP (Rebecca Front) sends the government's communications team into a spin. Her department's computer system has wiped the immigration records of 170,672 people, presenting her with two daunting tasks: keeping the fact from the press, and breaking the news to the irascible Tucker (Peter Capaldi). Handling these duties of office, Murray has to sit through lunch with the staff of The Guardian without letting her department's mishap slip.

The Thick of It: a whirlwind of swearing and satire

What can one reasonably expect to achieve in three minutes? It's nothing. You could get a pot of tea half-brewed, maybe, or go from 47th to 46th in the call-centre queue for O2. Clean a grill pan. Dice a kilo of lamb. Shave one leg. It's not an inspiring list.

Compare this dawdling, Neanderthal sclerosis, then, to the first three minutes of The Thick of It. The opening episode of the third series landed last Saturday night, like one of those mysterious glowing objects that crash in Oklahoma in sci-fi films, humming with advanced technology from a superior civilisation. The first three minutes went at such a pace that it was like someone sticking a whisk in your head and revving it until you had brain-meringue coming out of your eyes.