Would I Lie To You?

On the face of it, the formula for Would I Lie to You? is almost insultingly simple - celebs and comedians revealing daft things about themselves that may or may not be true. As formats go, it's a feather duster, an airy nothing. Yet there's no other panel game on TV that so reliably creases you up. It helps when the chemistry between the guests comes together, as it does in tonight's opener for the fourth series. When guest Martin Clunes teases Richard E Grant over the latter's not-very-plausible claim to have recorded a dance version of a Shakespeare soliloquy, it feels like old friends sharing a joke. Even when nobody really believes a given tale - such as that Fern Britton briefly worked in the Post Office or that Sanjeev Bhaskar once crashed into Michael Winner's car - the fusillades of good-natured mockery are great fun. And to add to the fun tonight, there's a little hint of aggro between Clunes and host Rob Brydon.

The panel game it is acceptable to like returns with another amusing episode. The guests are mainly people who think that they're funnier than they are - Martin Clunes, Richard E Grant and Sanjeev Bhaskar - but nonetheless there's some amusing banter and a bit of a frost between Rob Brydon and Clunes, which is entertaining.

The best factoid in this show is that when he appeared in an episode of Inspector Morse, Martin Clunes deliberately called him "Cheese Inspector". That's not even one of the fibs in this week's show - it's just one of the inbetween bits of banter that gets chucked in for free. And the return of this series ratchets up the laughter quotient of Friday nights on the BBC (and Martin Clunes' career, come to that) by roughly four million per cent.

It makes you realise that all those years Clunes has spent stomping around ­Cornwall as the grumpy Doc Martin, pretending to be Reggie Perrin or making ­documentaries about dogs have been a waste of his talents. What he should really have been doing is spending his time larking about with his mates on comedy panel shows because I've never seen him enjoy himself as much as he does here.

It all adds up to a brilliant start to the series with team captains David Mitchell and Lee Mack conjuring perfect comebacks out of thin air. Host Rob Brydon's impromptu impersonations add an extra coat of comedy emulsion to an already ­sparkling format. Tonight's other guests, Richard E Grant and Sanjeev Bhaskar put on their best butter-wouldn't-melt faces as they swear blind that they once rear-ended Michael Winner and made a hip-hop Hamlet. And is Fern Britton really a secret Morris Dancer?

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?