Would I Lie To You?

Radio Times review

Miles Jupp joins David Mitchell's team tonight. Yes, Jupp and Mitchell, side by side at last - it's like a posh-comic supergroup. At one stage, as Mitchell is in the midst of a typically heated interrogation of an opponent, Jupp turns to him and murmurs, "David, even if you don't believe him, you don't need to be angry about it." At which Mitchell yells, "I'm trying to break him!"

Jupp also tells a brilliant story about having to tell neighbours that their cat had died, while he himself happened to have his face painted as a kitten. But in the end, it's one of those episodes that Lee Mack carries almost single-handed. When he's on this form, there's no one quicker.

Radio Times review

This show's teams are so quick and on-the-comedy-ball, some guests barely get a look in. In this edition, it's Adil Ray - of Citizen Khan - who takes a back seat as the likes of Bob Mortimer and Lee Mack steer the WILTY charabanc to unlikely places.

Mortimer is on great form, making out that as a teenager he was banished from Castle Douglas for frightening the locals. As he piles on implausible details (a friend called Steve Bytheway, latex masks, and so on) with a straight face, you can't help feeling he's taken his flight of fancy too far. Or is it the old trick of elaborating an anecdote to make it sound ridiculous?

Also peddling tall tales are Kian Egan from Westlife, who may or may not have bid for his own waxwork, and Mel Giedroyc with, suitably enough, a cake-based story. It involves David Bowie.

Would I Lie to You? review

Did Kirsty Wark steal Jeremy Paxman's Snoopy mug? This game show is funny enough that the truth doesn't matter.

Radio Times review

When Would I Lie to You? takes off, there's nothing like it. You get to a point where everyone in the studio is having such a high old time ribbing each other, they've almost forgotten they're on a panel show - and there are a few of those in this cracker of a show.

Bruno Tonioli is trying to convince us (and David Mitchell) that he once caused a fire while making pasta for Bananarama, whereupon Rob Brydon runs with it and does an impression of Bruno choreographing Bananarama that stops the show for a while. Then when Bruno tries to mock Mitchell's long-winded style, the comeback is pure joy.

Elsewhere, Adam Buxton maintains he has arguments with his partner via Skype and Kirsty Wark recalls a tiff with Jeremy Paxman over his Snoopy mug.

The WILTY? team put their poker faces to the test

Has BBC One's game of bluff made these three comedians consummate liars? We put Brydon, Mitchell and Mack's poker faces to the test...

The tall stories (some true, some not) comedy panel show returns for an eighth series. Its longevity has much to do with the way host Rob Brydon, plus team captains Lee Mack and David Mitchell, get close to the knuckle without taking things too far for primetime, a tricky balancing act when Mitchell discusses the lead-up to an alleged vomiting incident ("There was definitely drinking, I think there might have been crisps ... "). First guests are Fiona Bruce, Micky Flanagan, Steve Jones and Claudia Winkleman.

Radio Times review

Host Rob Brydon and team captains David Mitchell and Lee Mack return for series eight of the jolly panel show that tests the fibbing skills of celebrity teams. In this opening episode Micky Flanagan is the sole comedian guest, alongside TV presenters (of one form or other) Fiona Bruce, Claudia Winkleman and Steve Jones.

Did Flanagan liven up a hen do by taking his clothes off? Does Fiona Bruce dream about monkeys? And did Steve Jones once save rapper P Diddy's life? It may be inspired by elements from other panel shows (Call My Bluff and the mystery guest element from They Think It's All Over being the most obvious), but thanks in large part to the wit and repartee of the three regulars, the fun is infectious.

The spirits are high but the japes are deliciously low-down and dirty as Rob Brydon twinkles with seasonal cheer for this Christmas helping of tall tales. Did Stephen Mangan's Bedlington Terrier get its name by wagging its tail at the gravestone of a man called John Samuels? Lee Mack tries to dig up the truth, alongside Barry Cryer and Miles Jupp, while Mangan's partners in guile are David Mitchell and Miranda Hart.

"This is my cape," proclaims David Mitchell - words we've always wanted to hear him say. "I used to put it on to pretend I was Doctor Who and head into my Tardis, or as my parents called it, the airing cupboard."

Ahh, it's all too believeable, the kind of absurd but just-plausible-enough claim this series loves to tease us with. Equally tricky: does Miranda Hart begin every Christmas Day with a cigar in bed? Did Stephen Mangan name his puppy after a gravestone?

As usual, the panellists' festive fibs are great excuses for repartee, cross-examination and stories with more embroidery than a Downton dressing gown. But it's beautifully, stupidly funny, not least because everybody looks like they're having such a blast, so we do too.

A drum roll, please, for the much-anticipated, always enjoyable offcuts episode. These are the attempts by celebrities to fool other celebrities that ended up on the cutting room floor, not because they weren't funny (they are) but because they were surplus to requirements - or just a bit too guessable.

But we can still revel in Charles Dance's claim that he answers the phone in a Belfast accent or Dermot O'Leary's obsessive approach to stacking crockery. Best of all is a duel between Lee Mack and Richard Osman over whether the latter invented a superhero called Snooker Table Man as a child. We're fairly sure Osman is improvising furiously, but if he is, he's doing a great job...