When failed comedian Jamie Salter (Daniel Rigby) channels his personal and professional frustrations through Waldo, the aforementioned bear he voices, and unleashes his contempt on an unsuspecting politician (Tobias Menzies), he unwittingly captures the prevailing mood of public disaffection. With a by-election approaching and his backers keen to secure a series for Waldo, the stars are aligned for a paradigm shift in electoral politics.

The most successful instalments of Charlie Brooker's Black Mirror have taken latent concerns about techonology and society, infused them real dread and then sent them spinning off in entirely unexpected directions. But The Waldo Project, which closes this second series, springs no such surprises: the execution of the concept is strangely simplistic and linear, while enough jokers get elected these days to make even a blue animated bear running for government barely worth a raised eyebrow.

Would anybody really vote for a TV cartoon character in a by-election? As imagined in the final, chillingly plausible satire in Charlie Brooker's technocentric trilogy, the worrying answer is, quite possibly, yes.

After ill-advised tweets lead to the downfall of a regional politician, there's a void to be filled. In the absence of any candidates the voters can believe in, TV PR spin fans social media into a frenzy, catapulting Waldo - a foul-mouthed animated bear - into the political arena.

Daniel Rigby (Eric Morecambe in BBC2's excellent Eric & Ernie) stars as the disillusioned comedian whose voice and movements animate the bitter Waldo.

Another blisteringly dark satire from Charlie Brooker, this time tackling a very serious subject: rising public disenchantment with mainstream politics. In The Waldo Moment, a lonely comedian (Daniel Rigby) is propelled into the limelight when the provocative little interactive cartoon bear he voices on TV tangles with a politician (Tobias Menzies) live on air. When the incident goes viral, the entire political process begins to look dangerously absurd. It's not a bad stab at dystopian drama, although it's not quite Orwell.

The Function Room is something which I read about earlier this year and I thought sounded really good - a possible rival for Craig Cash and Phil Mealey's brilliant pub sitcom Early Doors from the early 00s. And I have to say - aside from the annoyingly loud studio audience - I liked it.

The cast was brilliant - Trollied's Beverly Rudd, The Inbetweeners' Blake Harrison, The Vicar of Dibley's James Fleet to name just a few. There was even a great late appearance from Psychoville's and one quarter of The League of Gentlemen's, Reece Shearsmith. With such a strong cast, I had a certain faith in The Function Room before it even started... and that faith paid off.

It took a while but right from the moment a disgruntled Rudd uttered the word "Bergetw*t", I found this show very funny.

I think the key to The Function Room, and something which seems to be missing from quite a few comedies nowadays, is strong characters. From a very theatrical actor (Fleet), to a passionate busy-body who generally objects to everything (Daniel Rigby, the one who plays the slightly odd flatmate in the BT ads), and to a young, outspoken couple who only seemed to be at the 'Meet the Police' meeting 'for the craic' (Harrison and Rudd).

The Function Room definitely has legs and should be picked up by Channel 4 even just as a three-part series. It's far more deserving than Verry Terry!

This fond look at the early struggles of Morecambe & Wise as the very definition of 'affectionate' and full of lovely detail, but Daniel Rigby's Eric wasn't just an impersonation - it was a stunning performance, full stop.

The 4th best programme of 2011 according to the Radio Times.

This fond look at the early struggles of Morecambe and Wise was no broad-brushstrokes biopic. Rather, it was an accumulation of lovely detail: the down-at-heel venues, the pushy parents, how the double act evolved. Writer Peter Bowker even had room for the duo's harmonica-tootling stooge, Arthur Tolcher. The very definition of "affectionate", Eric and Ernie was a series of revelations: that Vic Reeves ought to take more straight roles; that funny can flip to poignant without being crass; and that Daniel Rigby's Eric wasn't just an uncanny impersonation - it was a stunning performance, full stop.

Radio Times' pick of the week: Warhorses of Letters

Stephen Fry and Daniel Rigby (who won a BAFTA for his portrayl of Eric Morecambe on BBC2 this year) play the corresponding horses of Napoleon and Wellington. The series is written by Robert Hudson and Marie Phillips], who explain the genesis of Warhorses of Letters - PM.

Annoyingly addictive parody of several parodies. If you liked that Ladies of Letters series on Woman's Hour, with a hint of 1066 and All That, plus gay jests, you'll like this. If not, avoid. It's February 1810 and this is an imagined correspondence between Copenhagen (Daniel Rigby) and Marengo (Stephen Fry), the first being Napoleon's horse, the second Wellington's. Copenhagen starts as more of a gusher in 21st century mode (he signs with a hoofprint and kiss kiss) than grave Marengo. Remember, Waterloo looms. By Robert Hudson and Marie Phillips.

Say what you will about BBC Drama, they do a very nice line in showbusiness biography. Written by Peter Bowker and based upon an idea by Victoria Wood, Eric and Ernie, exploring Morecambe and Wise's formative years, was one of the best I've seen.

The casting was spot on. Daniel Rigby and Bryan Dick were not just vocally and visually uncanny as the duo, they captured every mannerism and even reproduced their comic timing. Most remarkable of all, their recreation of Eric and Ernie's stage act came over as fresh and genuinely funny.

To see the two great comedians resurrected so comprehensively was almost sufficiently thrilling, but it would be a shame to allow the virtuosity of Rigby and Dick's performances to obscure a beautifully crafted, poignant, witty and gentle drama about friendship, family and showbusiness struggle.

"Big head, short legs" was the young Eric's initial reaction on meeting Ernie Wiseman, already a star on the West End stage and celebrated as "Britain's Mickey Rooney". But from inauspicious beginnings a firm friendship grew, out of which sprang their double act.

Victoria Wood played Eric's pushy mum Sadie, vicariously revelling in her son's onstage success, with Jim Moir - you know, Vic Reeves - as her long suffering and overlooked husband George.

As the untold story of the formative years of Morecambe and Wise, Eric and Ernie (BBC2, New Year's Day) ran the risk of telling you more than you ever wanted to know, or of drawing too heavily on the national stockpile of affection for the famous double act. And it came sandwiched in the schedule between the duo's 1976 Christmas special and a documentary about them, so that, even if you'd never heard of Morecambe and Wise, you were guaranteed to be sick of the sight of them by bedtime.

Under the circumstances, Eric and Ernie proved a small triumph - a standalone drama that was never hidebound by its subject. It was by turns charming, moving and disturbing. There is something distinctly creepy about child performers, and Eric and Ernie's partnership stretched back to boyhood, when they toured together during the war, staying in digs during blackouts and, yes, sharing a bed.

Daniel Rigby managed to portray the young Eric Morecambe in a way that was more embodiment than impersonation - occasionally it was a little bit freaky - while Bryan Dick deserves credit for finding the grim application behind Ernie's bland sunniness. Victoria Wood was marvellous as Eric's pushy stage mum; and Vic Reeves (here billed as Jim Moir), who always bore more than a passing resemblance to the adult Morecambe, was an inspired choice to play his dad.

I can't imagine anyone's enjoyment of this being coloured by prior knowledge of the facts, although I can only speak on behalf of the utterly ignorant. The untold story of Morecambe and Wise turns out to be well worth the telling. A clever script illuminated the contrast between the compulsively wise-cracking Eric and the more sober Wise. They were even, when necessary, plausibly funny. I wouldn't go so far as to call this dark, but it was by no means uniformly light-hearted, and the manginess of the postwar variety circuit was nicely evoked, as was the late-50s BBC hierarchy that spawned the pair's first, dismal, and nearly career-terminating small-screen venture, Running Wild. One review contained the line, "Definition of the week: TV set - the box in which they buried Morecambe and Wise." Whoever came up with that has a cheek calling anyone else unfunny, but that's a risk TV reviewers occasionally run.