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'Another Case Of Milton Jones' In The Press...

Another Case of Milton Jones is entirely unnecessary. It's silly and never shies away from gags so predictable that you can feel them amassing on the horizon long before you can see them.

There were a lot of vision jokes in yesterday's programme, with Jones admitting that he hadn't been able to join the RAF because of poor eyesight. "I accidentally joined the RAC," he explained. He tried to find an airbase, using a sign in a shop window. Only later did he realise he was never going to find RAF Fletickets. He had fun, too, with names of opticians, mentioning a James Bond-themed chain: For Four Eyes Only.

If you're feeling grumpy, as I was when it started, it's easy to resist the show's charms and to tire of the hapless buffoon Jones. But then it catches you unawares with its rampant, innocent tomfoolery. "Milton, did you remember the flight recorder?" a pilot asked Jones. "Yes," he replied. There then came the sound of a recorder, badly played.

In another moment, Jones revealed that a 17th-century ancestor "invented the cold air balloon, but it never really took off." I also liked when he name-dropped Office Dibble to a woman in an American airbase. "I think you're confusing Top Gun with Top Cat," she told him.

Elisabeth Mahoney, The Guardian, 5th March 2010

With mad scientist hair and a healthy appetite for ridiculous jumpers, Milton Jones looks every part the comic on stage.

Written by Emma McAlpine. SpoonFed, 3rd November 2009

For this particular instalment, Jones found himself casing the catwalk as a professional photographer at a Milan fashion shoot. Despite being pretty lousy at the job - his only relevant experience was taking pictures of animals - he still ended up jetting off to South America to snap an eccentric and often angry Miss Venezuela.

To attempt to explain what happened next would be far too ambitious, let's just say that Jones' adventure featured encounters with Big Foot and a tribe of eco terrorists, and that was after he discovered what going for a Brazilian really meant.

The joy of the programme was in the writing, particularly the running gags, and the way it was performed by Jones and the cast, which included Tom Goodman-Hill, Dan Tetsell, Ingrid Oliver and Ben Willbond.

Lisa Martland, The Stage, 24th November 2008

I have a soft spot for Milton Jones. His show is so silly, so warm and daft. Like Count Arthur Strong, Radio 4's best comedy series, Another Case of Milton Jones is miles from the clever-clever satire that Radio 4 is known for. It is its own surreal world, one through which Milton bumbles, spouting groan-aloud puns, irritating all around him while trying to do his best.

He's immensely quotable, chucking out one-liners like bread for the birds: a high-speed Jimmy Carr without the cruelty. 'I've heard great things about your spring collection,' he said last week (he was being a fashion photographer). 'When exactly did you start collecting springs?' Yes, I know - awful - but a funny image. The lines come so thick and fast that you crumble eventually. Actually, you find yourself trying to predict the punch line. Easy enough if the set-up is: 'After the show, I went for an Italian...' ('Well, he was just annoying me, sitting there looking so stylish.')

But only a strange and brilliant comic mind could come up with: 'It's difficult to know if you remember something or you remember the photograph of something. One of my earliest memories is of being in America, standing over an air vent and my skirt billowing right up.'

Miranda Sawyer, The Observer, 23rd November 2008

Another Case of Milton Jones makes the studio audience whoop with delight. Jones is, as Radio 4's trailers so often tell us, a Perrier Award-winning comedian.

He does not swear. He is not rude. He is a word play man, more Dandy than Punch. He has adventures, as in very old radio comedy shows like ITMA with Tommy Handley or Up the Pole with Jewell and Warris.

Last night he was a photographer. Every time he mentioned a lens, a lens case or a lens cap up would pop Len, who'd say: "I've been looking for that." There are running gags, as with Len, or a repeated line, "Give me that sexy look, perhaps undo a few buttons on your blouse..." and an unexpected voice, that of a man or the Queen, will reply.

He was snapping a calendar, of unusual sights. "An Italian driving carefully, that's January... A laughing German, that's November."

Maybe you have to be there to roar with mirth. Or maybe someone is pumping laughing gas into that studio.

Gillian Reynolds, The Telegraph, 18th November 2008

There are those who hate the relentlessly childish, pun-driven comedic style of Milton Jones. But open your mind - or, if you wish, take it out and place it on the table - and the bloke has something going for him. You are practically guaranteed to laugh rather more than once, however hard you try not to, as in this latest four-part series Jones imagines himself as a star photographer, a barrister, an explorer and a jockey in a series of hopelessly puerile adventures. And when you've done, consider this - what does the Jones style of comedy most remind you of? That's right - the Goons.

Chris Campling, The Times, 17th November 2008

When Another Case of Milton Jones got under way, it seemed like here was another Radio 4 comedy which would be vaguely amusing but nothing more. How pleasing was the result as the world renowned barrister became embroiled in a historical case centred around the origins of the tapestry. Try to imagine Indiana Jones meets Jeeves and Wooster (Milton has the trusty Anton) with a surprise helping of Wind in the Willows thrown in. What a difference Jones and James Cary's story, however silly, made to the proceedings, together with a fine cast and some good old-fashioned one-liners and wordplay.

Lisa Martland, The Stage, 30th April 2007

Now here comes autumn, with Another Case of Milton Jones on Thursdays to prove again that Radio 4 can make you stony-faced quicker than botox. Milton Jones is described in the Radio Times as 'the Perrier Award-winning king of the one-liners'. Maybe the Perrier judges that year were all aged 11.

Jones's jokes are of the variety that might appeal to little Chesney on Coronation Street, the red-haired child whose japes include putting soot on the eye pieces of binoculars.

Most of Jones's revolve around word confusion ('under budget' turns into 'under Budgens' which, in a sketch about architecture, leads to a project ending up beneath a grocery shop), or word association - for example, 'Brazil' leads to 'nut' and 'nut' leads to 'madness'. If by this time you'll accept an eighth of a laugh, or even a sixteenth, Milton (and his adroit tape editor) eventually came up with the goods in a sketch about running a sweet shop for the stars, in which George Michael asked for a Wispa, Chuck Berry a Rolo, Whitney Houston for a Yorkie and Elvis Costello said it was a good year for the Roses.

Gillian Reynolds, The Telegraph, 20th September 2005

Even if you're not of a pun-loving disposition, it's hard not to warm to Another Case Of Milton Jones

Express on Sunday, 18th September 2005

Duff gags, convoluted silliness and double entendres so bad they make you squeak: yes, Another Case of Milton Jones is back. And those are some of its best bits.

This is how bad the so bad-it's-good vibe is. In the midst of a ludicrous scene set in France, Jones meets up with his chum Anton. 'I thought we arranged to meet at the boulangerie,' says Anton. 'Ah,' replies Jones, in a moment of realisation. 'Not playing boules in our lingerie.'

Somehow this is all quite addictive. Occasionally, the jokes aren't quite preposterously weak enough, and then they are dull, but who cares when they are redeemed by Jones's one-liners at their kooky, goofy finest ('I was working on plans for a psychiatric hospital in Brazil in the shape of a giant nut').

Recalling a time when he ran a chocolate shop, Jones remembered serving George Michael, who wanted a Wispa - cue a clip of Michael singing 'whisper' - and then he slipped on it. Cue, you've guessed it, him singing 'a careless whisper'.

Elisabeth Mahoney, The Guardian, 16th September 2005