Stephen Fry shouldn't be vilified for expressing views

Stephen Fry has recently apologised for remarks he made about the sexually abused and I am very glad he did. By the same token he's been subjected to criticism and as much as I wholeheartedly disagree with what he said, words that don't need repeating, I have to object to Paris Lees's article published in the Guardian on 12th April. As I read it I had an open mind, but her emotive use of language and her accusation that Stephen Fry is a 'bully' was unjustified. Her argument that no one would listen to what he had to say if he was 'poor' - what does that have to do with it? It's like attacking the whole establishment and she included Germaine Greer, too, for good measure. She is missing the point.

With the imperial QI war of succession over, and Sandi Toksvig taking over from Stephen Fry as schoolmaster-in-chief, dad TV's favourite quiz-ee Alan Davies has slowly been expanding his own media principality. His Dave show, for which he sits in the host's chair, takes the bold step of not actually being a quiz, with guests from Germaine Greer to Noel Fielding chatting round a table, unburdened by the uniquely British love of point-scoring.

In which Simon Day's progger attempts to stage a live performance of his Day Of The Triffids musical ("The Triffids descend from the skies/ To sting our eyes!") at Mount Kilimanjaro. What could possibly go wrong? Actually, aside from being mistaken for a racist, not much: Roger Moore's a hoot as the Richard Burton-style narrator, gamely ploughing on through a Triffid-human molestation sequence: as Tim Rice comments, "It didn't go down very well with Germaine Greer - or Percy Thrower."

Heresy's simple format involves Victoria Coren and guests attempting to expose the wrong-headedness of received wisdom.

In the first programme, Coren was joined by comedians Lee Mack and David Schneider, and writer-broadcaster Germaine Greer. They argued about Andy Murray, whom Schneider described as "the Gordon Brown of tennis", and the merits of urban foxes.

The show's trump card involves members of the audience - not that their contributions raised the laughter bar much, but they at least provided some respite from the mostly predictable panel patter and comedic one-upmanship.

Only when I watched it for a second time did I work out the point of Vicious. Of course: it wasn't a sitcom. It was an elaborate exercise in trolling.

On first viewing I couldn't understand why, in the year 2013, two gay men - Gary Janetti and Mark Ravenhill - would create a comedy about gay men who conform to almost every homophobic stereotype: bitchy, vain, melodramatic, lecherous, rude, sulky. The programme's working title was Vicious Old Queens. It was as if Germaine Greer had created a sitcom called Dykes, about two feminists who hate men, wear dungarees and have no sense of humour.

Then it struck me. Vicious was a wind-up, its aim to enrage bilious homophobes by rubbing their faces in their own prejudices. "There! See!" the bilious homophobes would splutter.

"Homosexuals are every bit as seedy and unpleasant as I thought! God, they make me so angry, I could... Arrrgh! My chest! Call 999! I'm having a heart attack!"

I suppose there is an alternative possibility, namely that Vicious is just a load of hackneyed old rubbish. But I'm sure that can't be it.

Vicious stars Ian McKellen and Derek Jacobi (quite a coup for an ITV sitcom) as a pair of bickering hams. In some ways it's very traditional. It's filmed on a single set, with a delirious studio audience, and the script contains only two types of dialogue: set-up and punchline. Almost all the punchlines are putdowns. A character will say his dog is 20 years old. Another character will say at least it's younger than these biscuits of yours. That sort of thing.

Slightly less traditional are the jokes about rape. Middle-aged woman: "I'm so frightened I'm going to be raped!" Gay friend, scornfully: "For God's sake, Violet, nobody wants to rape you!" Middle-aged woman: "What an awful thing to say!"

Germaine Greer takes a pop at computer pop-ups (she has no idea what they are) and fun runs, but reveals she's so out of touch with public opinion she gets heckled. Just as well comedian Ross Noble and pop star turned businesswoman Jamelia have more of a common touch as they aim health & safety and txt spk at Frank Skinner's sparkly chute of oblivion. But they're all upstaged by a stonking turn from folk street dancers Time Gentlemen Please!

Four episodes in and the panel format is working so well it's hard to remember Room 101 in its previous incarnation. Frank Skinner's consummate ease with a one-liner helps. And it's Skinner's quick-witted to-and-fro with Ross Noble that propels the show as the panel discuss Noble's beefs with folk dancing and health and safety measures: "The reason we have danger is to get rid of idiots," claims Noble.

Also up for dissection are Jamelia's dislike of text speak and Germaine Greer's hatred of computer pop-ups and fun runs: "Why don't they just write a cheque?" she asks. We think she has a point, but will Skinner agree?

Free-wheeling Geordie comic Ross Noble, award-winning R&B singer Jamelia and the academic and journalist Germaine Greer are Frank Skinner's guests on tonight'' edition of this long-running comedy show. They give good value for money, campaigning for a wide range of items to be sent to their doom in Room 101 - including health and safety, actors, text speak and folk dancing.