Too outrageous for Mock The Week, Frankie Boyle has got his own show now. It's on Channel 4 so he's free from the BBC's post-Sachsgate compliance rules and can be even more offensive and even funnier, yes? Presumably that's the concept of Frankie Boyle's Tramadol Nights. I wasn't offended by any of the jokes in the opener; I just didn't find them very funny. Rules can be daft but they can force a comedian to work harder and be more clever. No need here.

"How ya doin', ya big f****n' Loyalist terrorist suspect?" These were Boyle's first words, aimed at a formidable, shaven-headed man in the audience. He also called the delighted victim a "big gun-running bisexual". Then Catholics got it, then all religious groups. Then gay people (they got it a lot), then John Leslie, George Michael, Ryanair, the Japanese and the mentally ill before finally Boyle cracked a joke I can repeat in a family newspaper, where he lamented the somewhat one-dimensional nature of The Jeremy Kyle Show: "He rounds up his audiences by firing tranquiliser darts into Farmfoods. There's never an edition called I Wanted To Go To Tuscany, You Swine!"

The stage routine was interspersed with filmed sketches which showed up his limitations as a comic actor. I say stage, but the set was a rooftop in the style of a classic movie. As Frankie got more and more enraged, I thought he was going to do a Jimmy Cagney and, in a nod to White Heat, blow himself up. Maybe next time.

Frankie Boyle is the only comedian currently working who has the ability to delight and offend in such equal measure and he more than met expectations tonight with this new blend of stand-up and sketches.

Cantering gleefully - but never gratuitously - past the boundaries of taste and decency, Frankie brought us such gems as George Michael's Highway Code and Loose Women Iran.

His acting isn't necessarily up to much, but his comic timing is perfect and the script displayed flashes of brilliance.

Boyle did, however, perform a disappointingly weak sketch parodying The Green Mile, but his take on Knight Rider more than made up for it.

The episode's standout piece was undoubtedly his attack on the BBC's perceived penchant for political correctness, in a sketch about a bland TV show called Untitled Street. 'I've got that thing you asked for,' says one faceless character. 'Adjective, adjective, verb,' replies the other.

His live material was also excellent - despite not sitting too naturally amongst the sketches - and his interaction with the audience provided ad-libbing worthy of its own dedicated show.

And with some fantastically acerbic rants about religious people and the mentally ill (they are of course much of a muchness, according to Boyle), it was clear to see that the comedian felt free to insult and incite in his quest for humour.

Naturally, the mood of the programme was unsettling, but actually, the most disturbing thing about the show was the rare sight of Boyle smiling so much. Always in character, of course.

George Michael to pursue career in comedy?

I've been mulling over George Michael's predicament over the last few days and have been thinking about what his next career move will be.

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.

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'.