Charlie Brooker

But Nathan Barley is unfocused, both structurally and in its satire. Personally, I suspect that as Chris Morris -- along with his co-writer Charlie Brooker, who originally created the Nathan Barley character on his peerless website TVGoHome -- did their reputed three years of research on Hoxton, they found that Hoxtonites' main obsessions (new technology, unlistenable music, the boundaries of acceptability, silly slang) were, in fact, pretty close to many of their own.

Nathan Barley is not spectacular television, but neither is it appalling. It simply fails to do what it clearly set out to do. It has ended up in entirely the wrong bracket, resulting in a dull thud when it should - an indeed quite easily could - have sounded a loud fanfare.

It's a sad state of affairs when one-joke series like this [Directors Commentary] and Monkey Dust get hailed as 'comic genius' simply on account of feeling vaguely 'new' (as opposed to, y'know, 'funny').

Being more 'daft' than 'dark' (good news for anyone who enjoys laughing at jokes), [and] containing admirably stupid performances and hilariously baffling visual asides, Catterick is the most promising new series so far this year.

None of which is to say Shameless isn't really, really good - because it is - but if you approach it expecting something akin to a council estate version of Teachers, as opposed to a work of life-altering resonance, you've less chance of walking away disappointed.

It's clearly time to put Norton to bed now. Sure, he'd be a great dinner-party guest - but would you want him in your house every sodding night of the week?

The latter [3 Non-Blondes] is a female Trigger Happy TV with a rather dispiriting reliance on pussy jokes. If they can ditch the lame shock tactics and concentrate on the good-natured absurdities (such as the skit in which a street altercation turns into a dance routine), there'll be a better show at the end of it.

On the other hand, if the series is anything to go by, the book was worth the effort, because this has "Expensive Quality Programme" stamped all over it. If anything, it's a little too aware of its own importance; the direction only just manages to stay the right side of flashy, and some of the jokes seem a little too pleased with their own drollness.

Most home movies are excruciatingly dull, but Sellers' aren't, partly because the subject himself was such an enigmatic figure (and it's always interesting to watch an enigma kicking off its shoes and arsing about), and partly because the surrounding acquaintances he shot are more interesting than yer average person's Uncle David.

Peter Kay's Phoenix Nights has returned for a second series, so if like me you missed the first one, but heard lots of people banging on about how great it was, this is your chance to join in the fun. And here's the good news: they were right. It's fantastic.