Adam Hills, Alex Brooker and Josh Widdicombe have got Friday night satire right; matey instead of aloof, heartfelt instead of withering; and, because the presenters visibly enjoy each other's company and aren't competing, far less stilted than such a heavily scripted show ought to be. They don't feel like part of the well-oiled daily debate machine, so their points stick and miracles happen: viewers' tweets aren't annoying! Nick Clegg looked human when he was on! Sarah Millican guests as another annoyingly short series ends.

Radio Times review

About once an episode, a guest on Frank Skinner's amiable pet-hates show makes a suggestion that immediately unites celebs, studio audience and viewing public. Adrian Chiles takes that mantle this week with his disdain for people who recline aircraft seats. It provides the best banter of the episode, too. Skinner has a stronger bond with Chiles, having witnessed many a West Bromwich Albion loss alongside him, than he does with the other two panellists.

They chip in, though. Des O'Connor springs to life with a perfectly timed gag about his own libido, while Radio 1's Jameela Jamil causes a generational and gender clash that's sometimes awkward, sometimes fruitful.

Radio Times review

Will Smith returns to the scene of two great triumphs: that time he spontaneously did the rap from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, and that time he spontaneously did it again. What could rack up 30 million YouTube hits now? The star is on the sofa alongside Margot Robbie, so for at least some of the programme he'll have to sit still and discuss their new movie, the heist-romance Focus. They're joined by Hugh Jackman, who recently confessed that his years in Hollywood meant he had to re-learn Australian dialect for his latest film, Chappie.

Completing the line-up is Noel Gallagher. He's a fantastic chat-show guest, so let's hope he's not there solely to sing a song from his upcoming Chasing Yesterday LP.

Steve Delaney and Graham Linehan's old-school comedy must surely be given a third series, and ought to be slap bang in primetime. This run has edged diffidently towards greatness, with several moments where plot and character have meshed to make something sublime. The finale has bittersweet jeopardy as Michael (Rory Kinnear), a sitcom character who isn't trapped, considers leaving, while Arthur (Delaney) finds success as an unorthodox TV psychic. The transitions from stupid to serious are remarkably deft.

Brian Cox blows like a salty hurricane through another episode of this garrulous sitcom. In a moment of madness, Bob lobs a bin bag full of frozen burgers on to the skull of a love rival and is charged with aggravated assault. His regular brief, Objection McNally, is drunk and trouserless, so Bob conducts his own defence, leading to a pleasingly retro courtroom farce in which our man bickers with the jury, calls the judge "Skipper" and asks his nearest and dearest to perjure themselves. He's a guilty pleasure.

Catastrophe: as beautifully rommy as it is commy

Eye-wateringly dirty and unusally soulful - Sharon Horgan and Rob Delaney's brilliantly funny Channel Four sitcom dodges the usual romcom pitfalls.

An episode of the sitcom that's not so much been revived as zombified, but that has nevertheless proved a ratings winner. Dorien debates Dostoevsky with her book group, while Tracey warns her sons not to get fingered by the filth. As the cast stiffly shout a script that feels as if flair and surprises have been excised by censors, those stories vaguely collide. Pauline Quirke and Lesley Joseph, who have the knack of saying their lines as if they have read and understood them in advance, spark the odd glimmer.

Radio Times review

A slumbery round of the gently filthy information exchange, livened by a shake-up in the scoring system. We're playing Lucky Losers, this being Series L, which means klaxons are good, clever right answers are to be avoided and Alan Davies has to find a new way to come last.

With L also standing for lavatory this series, the best banter focuses on bottom-wiping: there's a terrifying lesson on which leaves to avoid when caught short in a Queensland forest, while Jeremy Clarkson and Sandi Toksvig bond over the impermeability of boarding-school loo roll. If that all sounds a bit vulgar, wait until you hear what Lillie Langtry once said to Edward VII.

Radio Times review

Hunker down for a solid three hours of clips and talking heads, counting down the 50 best sitcoms of all time, as decided by a viewer vote. A limited roster of actors, comedians and journos pop up repeatedly with soundbites that aren't always insightful, but there are flecks of gold: Ardal O'Hanlon's paean to The Royle Family is joyous, and Shelley Long's paean to Ted Danson is... a bit scary actually.

The constant flicking from UK to US and from recent to classic means boredom never sets in, and the list holds surprises, too. Two British sitcoms from the 1980s are shock inclusions in the top ten. As for the top spot, it has to be Fawlty Towers... doesn't it?

Radio Times review

Could such a gimmicky, conceptual comedy survive in a second series overseas? Yes. If anything, Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon's more expansive return as "Steve Coogan" and "Rob Brydon" was better, with the scenery and restaurants even lusher, and a more solid but still lightly sketched story adding unlikely new pathos to the theme of vain, over-analytical divas suffering a rarified midlife crisis. And those pinging comic riffs over lunch were just as dazzling. A luxury bitter chocolate of a show.