Would I Lie To You?

Would I Lie to You? review

Would I Lie To You? is a more pizzazzy version of the gentle, bookish Call My Bluff of years gone by. I was barely aware of it until recently. Eventually the barren landscape of Freeview's late-night schedules resulted in me getting drawn in, only to discover that it's actually quite good. In fact I found myself laughing out loud two or three times during a single half-hour show, and I rarely laugh out loud.

Very slightly disappointing guests this week, although Lee Mack's team does manage to accommodate the widely differing talents of beaming West End musical star Michael Ball and sulphurous TV grump Charlie Brooker. Both are good value (Ball even makes a sly joke about drugs), but on David Mitchell's team Trinny Woodall and Reece Shearsmith seem, well, out of sorts. No matter. This show has no problem overcoming the handicap of less-than-sparkling guests to deliver a half-hour of laughs. Tonight the flights of fancy (or are they brute facts?) include Shearsmith's alleged spell working in a themed funeral parlour and Brooker's claim that he pretended to a girlfriend for six years that he was partially deaf. But crucially, do three members of the cabinet subscribe to David Mitchell's Twitter feed? And, if so, who are they? You'll have to watch to find out.

Tonight's is another ludicrously enjoyable edition of the fib-based panel show that will, if you're not very careful, have you giggling like a schoolgirl throughout. Mind you, there's an uncharacteristic lapse early on when guest panellist Sir Chris Hoy makes a claim that even by the standards of this series is clatteringly implausible. Do we for a moment buy the idea that Sir Chris was approached by Nasa to cycle on the Moon? I mean, come on. After that, truth and lies become harder to separate as we mull over whether Gabby Logan wears red underwear when she presents a show for the first time and whether Lee Mack was force-fed custard creams at school. Host Rob Brydon is on sparkling form and David Mitchell is, you won't be surprised to hear, effortlessly funny. But was the only time he ever went to a live music concert a trip to see Shirley Bassey?

Recently my son came up to my office with a laptop to show me a clip from what he described as "the world's funniest show". He was referring to Would I Lie to You?. This may or may not surprise you, depending on your understanding of what the average 11-year-old boy finds funny.

Having watched last night's instalment, my own professional opinion (I was recently criticised for having no TV-reviewing qualifications, but I have since started a night course) is that Would I Lie to You? is some way off being the world's funniest show, but is still pretty funny. How the game works is not important. It's been a long time since the rules of any panel show mattered, because there isn't anything at stake - not even pride. This one is basically just an opportunity for comedians to insult each other.

And that's a pretty reliable formula, because even if you don't like a particular comedian (lots of people don't like Jimmy Carr, for example), you'll enjoy the bits where everyone takes the piss out of him. Last night's panel consisted of four funny guys and Terry Christian. And Jamelia, who also isn't funny, except in the sense that she's funnier than Terry Christian. But we can all put that on our CVs.

The highlight for me was the deeply improbable claim that Marcus Brigstocke was once a podium dancer at the Ministry of Sound, during weeks off from his other job working on an oil rig. This turns out to be completely true. "So Flashdance is actually based on your life," said Jimmy Carr. I think that's funny. Sue me.

The best bit this week is David Mitchell's sort-of impression of Jodie Marsh (she's a "glamour model", the one who isn't Jordan). Of course Mitchell is ill-equipped even to approximate Ms Marsh's two famously overblown assets, but he does a very decent career precis of the big-bosomed one's raison d'etre, albeit delivered in his exasperated A-level history teacher's voice. It's pretty much down to captains Mitchell and Lee Mack to keep things going, with some lacklustre guests. Jimmy Carr is impossible to like; Terry Christian is clearly baffled and well aware that he's out of his depth, to the point that you might end up feeling sorry for him; and singer Jamelia yet again inexplicably turns up on a TV panel show. Host Rob Brydon helps the show bounce along as he referees the arguments and interrogations: was Christian interrogated by police hunting a jewel thief? And did comedian Marcus Brigstocke work as a podium dancer?

Would I Lie To You? Review

"I'm going to hate this aren't I?" bristled David Mitchell as new host Rob Brydon prepared to recite from the Cockney Bible. But raising the hackles of the amusing Mitchell is one of the conceits that Would I Lie To You? relies on to thrive and survive.

At its best, Would I Lie to You? (or, endearingly, WILTY for short) has a clever way of making us genuinely torn about whether the tales the panellists tell are bizarre truths or rank fibs. Increasingly, guests use the devious double bluff - stumbling over their story or adding details that sound absurd, when it really happened. I won't say who tries that ruse tonight as it would spoil the fun, but I will say that for some reason the tall stories are a bit more guessable than usual. No matter, the show is still enjoyable, with stand-up comedian Reginald D Hunter riffing nicely on the idea that the "D" in his name stands for "Delicious", while Ken Livingstone talks authoritatively about a frog he claims to have bred that had a "prehensile", ie grabby, part of its body that you really wouldn't expect to be grabby. The normally unstoppable David Mitchell is oddly subdued, until a contretemps with Lee Mack about throwing (or possibly not) a sausage roll off Blackpool Tower gets him riled. But did Mitchell have a bell he used to ring as a child when he wanted something? And was Stephen Mangan in a prog-rock band with mystery guest Gordon, or is he in fact Mitchell's local pet-shop owner?

There are a lot of food-based fibs in tonight's breezy show. There's Fern Britton's tea, Lee Mack with his sausage rolls, Stephen Mangan talking about a Mini-Cooper full of sweets and American stand-up Reginald D Hunter, who claims that the D in his name stands for 'Delicious'. Personally, I think it's more likely to stand for 'Deadpan' - this guy's poker face is better than Lady Gaga's.

Also on tonight's show, Ken Livingstone says the word "anus" a lot. Honestly. Host Rob Brydon and team captain David Mitchell look suitably shocked.

Would I Lie to You? is a return of a series I would have bet hard cash would never be recommissioned. It's a quiz show whose only apparent point is to give part-time employment to comics whose stand-up is better sitting down, and Carol Vorderman. I thought I'd seen the end of this grisly equation of smugness, anger and pert pettiness, but I hadn't allowed for the half-life of quiz shows. The point of this one - and I use the word with a joyless laugh - is for the comics and Carol to tell us something that may or may not be a lie: "I once swallowed a comb" or "I have an irrational fear of balloons" or "My mother had no bottom". The hostage of all titles that contain question marks is that they incite answers. In this case, who cares? Who cares if you are lying? One had to go to A&E to have a Hoover attachment removed. I don't care, none of us cares. This show is neither remotely interesting nor edifying. It is science, and it is isn't entertainment. It's watching a dole queue of stupid under-achievers - except for Jo Brand, who is above criticism. She is the Florence Nightingale of sickly format and mortally wounded quiz shows.

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