A shame that what could have been an entertaining foray into the history of joke-telling should be so lacking in humour. There's nothing inherently wrong with the premise of the documentary in which Michael Grade asks whether there is such a thing as a new joke or whether we are laughing at the same things our ancestors did - it's just that it's all a little boring. Ken Dodd, Barry Cryer and Tim Vine are among those pointing the way as Grade discovers what Romans and Tudors found funny, why lettuce was once thought amusing, why a 14th century papal secretary was responsible for one of the first joke books and why the BBC once censored some jokes - chambermaids and lodgers were among the banned topics.

Barry Cryer falls on stage

Barry Cryer fell about 4 feet from the side of the stage at the Tenbury Regal tonight after misjudging the exit into the wings.

All performers, and especially comedians, would like to have credibility. This was the subject of Funny Business (BBC Two), a show in which I took a personal interest, because I once harboured the illusion that I could do after-dinner speeches and commercials and thereby pick up some easy money.

Until recently, straight actors lost credibility if they did commercials. Sir Laurence Olivier did a Polaroid commercial, but only on the understanding that it would never be screened in the UK. Today, however, George Clooney hustles coffee and Brad Pitt barks for Chanel No5. The money might go to charity, but it still counts as a fast buck. Nevertheless, the actors get away with it.

For the comedians it has always been a hard choice. A commercial will look like slumming unless it is funny enough to be thought of as part of the comedian's repertoire. Another question mark hangs over the corporate event appearance, where months of big bucks can be earned in a single night. But people who haven't paid to see you, and who are sitting at round tables which ensure that many of them are facing the wrong way, are a soul-destroying prospect.

Intelligent comic operatives such as Barry Cryer, John Lloyd and John Cleese were united in the opinion that the business opportunities form part of the career. But I can say from experience that it hurts when it goes wrong. I once did a big, expensive set of plugs for Australian Telecom in the very year that their opposition came out with a better product. And the money wasn't all that easy. There is a small hill of red dirt somewhere near Alice Springs that is flatter now because of the number of times I had to walk up it.

Funny Business, BBC Two, review

Michael McIntyre: £40,000. Ricky Gervais: £25,000. Jason Manford: £25,000. Jo Brand: £10,000-£25,000. Barry Cryer - who after that lot looks an absolute steal - is £2,000-£5,000. This, according to Funny Business, is what it costs to hire the above to tell some jokes at a corporate event.

My haven: Barry Cryer

Barry Cryer, the comedy legend, 77, at the Middlesex home he's shared with his wife Terry for 45 years.

A profile of the Glaswegian entertainer and talented mimic who performed most of his sketches in the guise of celebrities of the day. Famously, Baxter would use clever editing to portray all the characters in a scene and was the first person to play the current Queen on TV. We hear how he started his career in Scottish variety theatre and the Army entertainment corps, before going on to draw huge audiences during the Seventies and Eighties for his TV specials - until the cost of his epic productions priced him off our screens. Fans and friends including Michael Grade, Barry Cryer, Bill Oddie and Gregor Fisher pay tribute.

Anyone casually inferring that the title of this 90-minute documentary might shed light on the inner workings of knowing music-hall surrealist Frankie Howerd is likely to be mildly disappointed. The Lost Tapes is far more interested in his stage-and-screen career than his occasionally tumultuous private life. That said, the plethora of footage unearthed here is an absolute treat for any fan of British comedy. Bruce Forsyth, Tim Vine, Ross Noble, Roy Hudd, Galton & Simpson and the eternally youthful Barry Cryer guide us through clips ranging from Frankie's stint at Peter Cook's Establishment Club to his scenes - sadly left on the cutting-room floor - with Wendy Richard and Paul McCartney in The Beatles' Help! to footage of another musical misfire in his role opposite The Bee Gees in the regrettable promotional movie that accompanied their Cucumber Castle LP. Other nuggets include clips from 1973 Up Pompeii! rehash Whoops Baghdad and a 1976 sitcom made for Canadian TV.

The main Radio 4 comedy celebrating Christmas was I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue, broadcast as a 45-minute long extended edition. Stephen Fry was the guest, alongside host Jack Dee, panellists Tim Brooke-Taylor, Barry Cryer and Graeme Garden, and pianist Colin Sell - although sadly no Samantha (Sven took the place as scorer).

In the special there was the usual selection of rounds, from "Mornington Crescent" to "Sound Charades", and "Nativity Radio Times" to "One Song to the Tune of Another", which allows the listeners to hear Fry's version of Goodness Gracious Me to the tune of The First Noel, a sound which makes you wonder who would win a singing contest between Fry and Jeremy Hardy...

One of my main complaints about the BBC's comedy programming in 2012 was the lack of coverage it gave to the ISIHAC's 40th anniversary. This show was almost the only marker of the celebration, whereas the 45th anniversary of Just a Minute was given extensive coverage, including a TV adaptation (the third in its history) and episodes recorded in India.

JAM's a great comedy too, of course, but I do think that ISIHAC is the better of the two. And if the BBC aren't going to honour it then hopefully I can here. Here's to another 40 years of funnies - maybe...

Barry Cryer: ISIHAC is best when it's falling apart

As the long-running Radio 4 show returns, the stalwart panelist celebrates the late Humphrey Lyttelton, his replacement Jack Dee - and the importance of silliness.

I recommend Best Possible Taste, a warm, witty and respectful tribute to the ground-breaking DJ and comedian Kenny Everett that, while never shying away from the more troubled aspects of his character, actually goes out of its way to celebrate his genius.

Closer in spirit to the delightful Eric & Ernie and Tony Roche's winningly irreverent Holy Flying Circus - Ev's comic alter-egos, from Sid Snot to Cupid Stunt, act as a Greek chorus throughout - it's clearly a labour of love from screenwriter Tim Whitnall, whose ability to write about comedians with affectionate insight was previously established by his award-winning stage-play Morecambe.

With Ev's ex-wife and soul-mate Lee and his key collaborator Barry Cryer both acting as consultants, Whitnall's film abounds with a sense of anecdotal charm and detail that so many of these biopics lack. Sure, it begins with our hero recovering from a suicide attempt, and pivots around his struggle to come to terms with his homosexuality, but it never treats him crassly. Instead he's portrayed as an inveterate rebel with a self-destructive streak, whose total mastery of his craft clashed with his private anxieties. That's artists for you.

Framed as an unorthodox love story between Ev and Lee, it's a touching portrait of a sensitive, brilliant, loveable, maddening man trying to find his place in the world, before tragically passing away years before his time. Newcomer Oliver Lansley is simply outstanding in the lead role, inhabiting Ev's various personae - including his softly-spoken actual self - with uncanny accuracy and depth. If this magnificent performance isn't rewarded with a BAFTA next year, then I'll shake my fist at the sun in anger. That'll show them.

Ex-Coronation Street actress Katherine Kelly provides excellent support as the strong-willed Lee, and there are even a few colourful cameos from Freddie Mercury, Michael Winner and Dickie Attenborough (the latter essayed by Simon Callow in Full-Callow mode).

While many of these biopics often look as though they were made for the price of a packet of Swan Vestas, director James Strong does wonders with his resources here, producing a beautiful, inventive piece that its late subject may well have approved of. Alas, the budget cuts at BBC Four suggest that this will be their last drama for quite some time. But at least they've gone out on a high.