For the non-sportive, David Quantick returned to Radio 2 to give us his Blagger's Guide to the Games. Finger poised above the effects button and daftness turned up to 11, Quantick initially seemed to be holding back his quick-fire mind to allow slower listeners to keep up. But five minutes in and we were back to his usual rat-a-tat gag-and-fact-packed action. Every aside was a gem ("Even though the war had ended three years ago - that's longer than the Saturdays' chart career - Britain was still full of austerity"). The show even bears another listen, so you can catch great jokes just tossed in, such as when a standup comic flips from Ben Elton to Kenneth Williams to Michael McIntyre mid-rant, with no explanation. Warning: all Blagger's Guides are a little like listening to a over-caffeinated, over-researched man-boy in the grip of quip mania but, as a lot of my conversations are like that, I approve.

Kathy Burke interview

We fell in love with Kathy Burke when she appeared on our screens as Waynetta Slob and Linda in Gimme Gimme Gimme. Now she's written a TV drama based on her 70s childhood that will steal hearts.

Everybody Quite Likes Justin, the sitcom featuring comedian Justin Moorhouse, has returned to Radio 4. The original pilot, about a DJ whose life is falling apart, took too long ensuring that the audience knew what was going on, but this episode was great: quicker, livelier and a proper gag-fest, with most of the lines poking fun at Justin. He was accused of using "a soft voice" when he talked to a girl he liked. "What soft voice?" he said, in a soft voice. "People will think she's your carer!" was the retort, which made me, and the audience, really laugh.

Mr Blue Sky, a four-part comedy drama written by Andrew Collins, finished on Monday on a wistful note, with ever-optimistic Harvey - the Mr Blue Sky of the title - failing to reveal his aneurysm to his family. He didn't want to ruin the happy vibe. He'd got his rubbish job back, his daughter was marrying her boyfriend, Kill-R, and his son had joined the army. This was a lovely series that got better as it went along. And Harvey's snarky oncologist - his mantra: "It's bad news" - was a joy from the start.

Shedtown, a new programme from Johnny Vegas's production company, was far from ranty: a strange drama/comedy/soundscape, narrated by Maxine Peake, it took advantage of its 11pm slot to offer something much more dreamy and hilarious than the usual wait-for-the-laughter Radio 4 fare. It's about the final works trip for the staff of a failed museum. They go to the seaside. The jokes came in under the radar: "What can I get you?" asked the barmaid. "Peace of mind," said Barry. "I want a pint, me," said Dave. The barmaid talked them through the new menu, which included chicken catch-a-Tory.

Over on Radio 4, Arthur Smith's Balham Bash seems more late-night 80s TV than 6.30pm radio. Aired first on 4Extra, this new series, though congenial, is too slack and studenty for Radio 4. The concept is that all the acts are in Arthur's house - at the top of the stairs, sitting in the lounge, in the kitchen - and the audience is squidged in there, too. But that small crew has to provide all the atmosphere, and as Arthur moves through the house, talking, they don't quite know how or when to respond. A thin "Yay!" is all an act can expect, and comedians - excellent ones, such as Simon Evans or Sean Lock - perform, for the most part, to embarrassed silence.

The Simon Day Show, in the same slot as Arthur Smith's Balahm Bash but on Thursdays, is a far stranger and, thus, more exhilarating listen. It's badly titled, really: you expect Day to do straight stand-up, but he never appears as himself. Instead, every week, he's a different character (Dave Angel, Tommy Cockles), come to perform at a small regional theatre, the Mallard. (Why isn't it called Live at the Mallard?) Anyway, the programme cuts between the act's performance and other imagined characters in the audience or behind the scenes. What a mish-mash! Still, as it's Simon Day, you don't have to wait long for moments so odd and brilliant that you forgive the muddled concept. Last week, Tommy Cockles got into a riff about dinosaurs that included the line, "Watch out, it's a T Rex - hide the Dundee cake!" That really tickled me.

More standups in the return of Charlie Brooker's So Wrong It's Right show on Thursday on Radio 4. This is a strange show. Brooker is a scurrilously witty man, but his humour, like David Mitchell's, lies in his anger. There is no anger in this programme. And although it purports to be about failure - asking its competitors to tell anecdotes about when they've made fools of themselves - it's actually about comedians shoe-horning little bits of their routines on to the radio. In the hope of getting more broadcasting work.

And yet more standups in It Is Rocket Science, a pithy, sweet programme about space presented by comedian Helen Keen, adapted from her 2008 Edinburgh show. This is an example of the recent trend among the geekier of standups to show the world that, you know, learning stuff is cool, as long as we keep shovelling in the gags. And it does its job well, with a joke-stuffed script, plus the extremely funny Peter Serafinowicz, providing the Voice Of Space. The Voice insists on referring to "The Ooooniverse". I laughed!

Rewind radio: Review of three Radio 4 comedies

Standups were turning up everywhere on Radio 4, and not just because of Comic Relief. Review of Stand Up for Comic Relief, So Wrong It's Right and It Is Rocket Science!