Over the last 20 years, Peter Kay has made himself the best-loved British comedian - simultaneously achieving critical acclaim (award nominations; the genius of Phoenix Nights) and massive popular success (millions of stand-up DVDs sold, catchphrases, TV ads). This authorised doc won't be a hard-hitting thing, exactly, but the circumstances of Kay's remarkable rise certainly bear repetition. Kay himself and a range of personalities, like party circuit pal JK Rowling, collaborator Dave Spikey and comedian Reece Shearsmith, account for his appeal.

A nice-seeming sort of bloke, does work for charity - John Bishop epitomises the Live at the Apollo school of comedian and Christmas TV favourite. Yet, while his act - observational material about family life, male archetypes and so on - is pretty cosy stuff, there's a bite to his delivery that could cause a certain amount of discomfort on the sofa. This third variety/comedy festive show features comic support from Sarah Millican and Danny Bhoy, comic songs from Andy Askins - and a duet between Bishop and Kylie Minogue.

A date mole-mapping. Super Hans's stag night. Jeremy's life-coaching love triangle. Instead of an elegiac vibe, the final series of Peep Show has kept things extraordinarily lively, while allowing its characters subtly to develop in something like a believable way. Jeremy is wrestling with the challenge of getting his act together and, at 39, beginning adulthood. Mark is pursuing love and history in one person. As Jeremy's 40th approaches, Mark faces down the latest in a series of work crises and makes a last-ditch attempt to win back April.

Another outing for John Thomson/'s comic creation Bernard Righton: a formerly blue club comedian who has attained a left-wing conversion, and reconfigured his act accordingly. Bernard acts as compere on this festive clip show, introducing archival Christmas pieces by the likes of Bill Hicks, Emo Phillips and Les Dawson - all "appearing" at his club. The archival jokes are a lot funnier than Thomson's, which is probably the point, but which makes for strangely uneven viewing.

What a great show this has been; its late summer vibes, subtle wisdom and inklings of melancholy making it a Nick Drake among sitcoms. As the series closes, Lance, Andy et al have reason to be optimistic. Lance has confined himself to leaving a mere eight messages for his daughter Kate, and Peter the "nighthawk" looks to have been vanquished. All comes to a head at the club rally, but quietly spectacular ensemble performances (especially from Sophie Thompson as Sheila) create a perfectly pitched tone throughout.

Hard to believe that a sitcom like this would get made in a post-Peep Show world. Here it is, though: a show about uni mates turned flatsharers, a vehicle for Josh Widdicombe, very much one of the leading lights in gentle observational comedy. Tonight, Josh and Owen have, thanks to landlord Geoff (Jack Dee), tickets to the darts, but no money with which to get sufficiently drunk to attend. The solution? Attend a wedding! Contains good jokes about Macy Gray and Morcheeba, which feel far too old for the characters speaking them.

Katherine Parkinson isn't, for a change, the one chewing the most scenery in the penultimate episode of the family comedy. That's because Emma Pierson (as Jenny) spends much of the show wailing at full tilt, as one disaster follows another on what seems to be an ill-starred day to be marrying Tim. As ever, it's hard to see what purpose the 1970s setting is meant to serve, apart from to justify using some good if incoherently programmed music on the soundtrack, and as an excuse for using some tired sitcom standbys.

The charm didn't really endure into the second series of Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer's sitcom (which was recently cancelled by the Beeb) but this - the first episode of the first series - is a fine reminder of their absurdist comic strengths. Bob is dismayed that his oddball lodger, Vic, is cramping his style. It's particularly problematic tonight, as his neighbour Beef (Matt Berry) has arranged a date for Bob with a woman "charred, like a tugboat". The plan is to watch Conan the Barbarian on TV. But what has Vic done with the TV?

A series that shows self-deprecating Britishness isn't solely the preserve of Grumpy Old Men repeats on Dave. VBP wheels out reliable talking heads (Vic Reeves, Nigel Havers, Stephen Mangan) to anatomise various points of British difficulty, and this week, it's social awkwardness. Air kissing. Hugs. Reflex apologies. All are fraught with difficulty and embarrassment. As for having a nice day, you shouldn't suggest that to Nigel Havers. "I'm having a very nasty day," he says. "But it's nothing to do with you."

This Zawe Ashton-starring dramedy is mounting in momentum as the various members of the team (even wild card Danyak) continue their journey from Northampton to London to present to the minister. Along the way, backstories previously hinted at are fleshed out, past ghosts confronted and so forth. It's often said that travel is all about the journey, not the getting there, but it's fair to say that the arrival at the ministry is pretty magnificent, too. Such a good series: warm and absurd, serious and moving.