The ailing government is spiralling into the abyss and Malcolm Tucker (Peter Capaldi) is both waving and drowning when he tries to charm a group of journalists with his customary bravado. There's a real sense of panic in the penultimate episode of the skin-piercing satire. The arrival at DOSAC of Steve Fleming (a terrifying David Haig), Malcolm's bête noir and fellow spinner, has pitched everyone into chaos. There's something almost frightening about The Thick of It when it's this intense, and when Fleming and Tucker have a titanic, foul-mouthed battle, be afraid.

The News at Bedtime is a brilliant Today show spoof by Ian Hislop and Nick Newman which went out at Christmas and rather got lost in the nation's annual drowse. Catch up now as John Tweedledum (Jack Dee) and Jim Tweedledee (Peter Capaldi) present the latest from the land of nursery rhymes. It is so funny you can hear each episode five times (thanks to the marvellous iPlayer) and still find new things to laugh at (thanks to producer Simon Nicholls).

How's this for a hot comedy concept for 2010 - a spoof news programme taking its inspiration from old nursery rhymes and songs? Do me a favour. Amazingly though, The News at Bedtime kind of works, thanks to some very sharp writing and the presentational skills of Jack Dee and Peter Capaldi as anchormen Tweedledee and Tweedledum.

You get a breaking story about police surrounding the Three Bears' house: "Put the spoon down Goldilocks and nobody will get hurt," while Mummy Bear tells the reporter earnestly: "I'm sure she didn't mean any harm, but it's not going to bring our porridge back, is it?"

Jack Spratt, sounding horribly like Jamie Oliver, puts the case against child obesity, while the Tooth Fairy stands up for sugary snacks. Capaldi gives an eyewitness account of the Cow Jumping Over the Moon - "one small jump for a cow, one giant leap for cowkind" - and asks if anyone has any relish or even a beer as the cow burns up on re-entry into the earth's atmosphere.

The source material isn't going to mean a lot to the younger generation, but to anyone over 40, this clever deconstruction of rhymes and songs we learnt as kids ought to raise a chuckle or two.

News at Bedtime was Ian Hislop and Nick Newman's dazzling satire on current affairs culture, featuring twin presenters John Tweedledum (played by Jack Dee) and Jim Tweedledee (Peter Capaldi) broadcasting from Nurseryland. You wouldn't need to be a Today aficionado to find this series a delight. There was the crooked man defending himself against allegations of corruption: "It's not a crooked sixpence John. I found it next to a stile. It's perfectly acceptable for me to claim as an allowance." The Grand Old Duke of York was on defending his military action - "You launched an ill-thought out, ill-conceived and legally dubious assault on the hill". There was the Daily Fairygraph, owned by the Brothers Grimm, and Jonathan Porridge from Beanpeace protesting against Jack's genetically modified beanstalk. All of it was pitch perfect, totally inventive and very funny.

Anyone with fond memories of Chris Morris's dearly loved news spoof On The Hour could do far worse than tune into this comic version of the Today programme penned by Ian Hislop and Nick Newman. Starring a first-rate cast of British comedy talent, helmed by Jack Dee and Peter Capaldi, The News At Bedtime is an almost hypnologic take on the conventions of a modern radio news programme, which presents streams of dreamlike absurdity with a staunchly straight face. While the content is a little silly at times, comedy fans and news junkies will still find plenty to enjoy.

The News at Bedtime (R4, 6.15pm) tries a new tack. Jack Dee and Peter Capaldi, as Jack Tweedledum and Jim Tweedledee, are argumentive anchormen in a world where Humpty Dumpty really has had a great fall. Written by Ian Hislop and Nick Newman. If you're up late making stuffing or doing wrapping here's some kitchen company.

Watch The News at Bedtime

The News At Bedtime is a Radio 4 news programme with a fairytale twist written by Ian Hislop and Nick Newman and presented by John Tweedledum and Jim Tweedledee (Jack Dee and Peter Capaldi).

As our real-life Government entered what are quite possibly its death throes, so did the fictitious government in Armando Iannucci's uproarious political sitcom. Rebecca Front arrived to play a hand-wringing minister but the focal point was, as ever, Peter Capaldi's vicious spin doctor, Malcolm Tucker. Weirdly, Tucker's sacking in the penultimate episode proved one of the saddest moments on TV this year.

The Thick Of It was comedy of the year, no contest. Well there was a contest, because geriatric ward sitcom Getting On was also a hoot. But it only ran for three episodes - there must be more, surely? - so it doesn't really count. But when it came to the sheer delirious joy of ented spleen splatting off the walls of the corridors of power, The Thick Of It's scabrous language warmed the cancerous cockles of my scurvy heart.

The fall and rise of Malcolm Tucker gave the mighty Peter Capaldi a fiesta of invectives, but it was no one-man show. Everywhere you turned, the lunacy of political spin was sent screaming through the mincer. The prize quote in the climactic episode came when one spin-crazed monkey announced: 'We're going to be triangulating to a semi-aggressive tactical grid.' Which got the only valid response possible: 'You're talking s***.'

And so the third season of the sharpest sitcom on TV effs and jeffs its way inventively towards its denouement, with Nicola Murray MP (Rebecca Front) and her party facing annihilation at the ballot box. Yet just when they need him most, resident rottweiler of spin Malcolm Tucker (Peter Capaldi) has been placed on gardening leave, reduced to lobbing popcorn restlessly at the television when Andrew Neil appears. However, even in his absence, Malcolm's still giving harassed minister Murray the heebie-jeebies - "I keep imagining every time I open my filing cabinet that he's going to be crouched in there eating a lamb shank," she groans - and sure enough, her nightmares become reality when Malcolm's offered a ticket back to the front line by an unlikely new ally, priggish blue-sky thinker Julius Nicholson (Alex MacQueen). "He is Lazarus, isn't he? He just can't die," observes Murray, ruefully. Thrillingly, the episode hints that the Opposition has unearthed its own Malcolm Tucker, a counter-spinner so fearsome that his short and unprintable nickname is whispered in hushed tones throughout the corridors of power. It seems as if everyone's tooling up for a battle royale; sparks and spittle will fly.