Armando Iannucci's political satire returns for its fourth series - the first since Labour was ousted from government - and the good news is that it's still brilliant. The MPs, advisers and civil servants of the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship are now working for a coalition government yet, unsurprisingly, are no more effective at their jobs. The department has created a new digital project aimed at teenagers but spin doctor Stewart Pearson (Vincent Franklin) decides that it should be launched by the Secretary of State (Roger Allam) - a man who has not only had no involvement in its development but is also digitally illiterate. Sadly it's a Peter Capaldi-free episode but he returns next week.

Capaldi: Leveson will influence new Thick of It

Peter Capaldi, who stars in The Thick of It, says he stays away from politicians so that he can remain impartial as an actor.

I tried to like Dirk Gently (BBC Four) but it was hard to find the humour. As with the spoof show Cricklewood Greats, which came and went a few weeks ago leaving a sense that even Peter Capaldi can sometimes waste his time, a great deal of care and attention didn't add up to a single gag. It could be that, as the years pass, one falls out of love with the spoof form itself; perhaps because everything has been done. On one of the off-world channels last week I got another chance to see the movie Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid and it was as impressive as ever. It had infinite resources from the film archive and they were deployed with tact and cunning. But even then, I didn't laugh much.

For any show that tries to do the same sort of thing but with less wit I can barely summon up enough interest to see it through. The antipathy has got something to do with the spoof form itself. It is always as if the spoofers had spent years getting ready, paying the wrong kind of attention; they are like practical jokers, forever looking for a way in. On the other hand, The Comic Strip bunch a few years back did some good stuff, and a spoof sequence was always the highlight of the French and Saunders shows. When I recall those two in their spoof mode, however, I also recall that The Two Ronnies were only ever disastrously dull in their Piggy Malone number.

Peter Capaldi: Bullies made my teenage years hell

Actor Peter Capaldi has revealed how school bullies made his life hell.

Peter Capaldi's mock documentary revisits the titular, long-forgotten - oh, all right, completely made-up - north London film studios, responsible for such classic films as Clog Capers of 1932 and Breasts of the Vampire. Profiling a fictional organisation that was equal parts Ealing, Hammer, Gainsborough, Handmade Films and Carry On, it's a richly imagined, brilliantly executed and very funny alternate history. Played entirely straight - essential for any great spoof - the film clips are as beautifully realised as the also the documentary itself, an affectionate take on a certain sort of factual filmmaking, infused with the passion and occasional pomposity that characterises it, from self-important opening narration to the over-extended closing montage - soundtracked, inevitably, by Coldplay's Fix You. A Terry Gilliam cameo is merely the final treat in a wonderful pilot that simply demands a full commission.

Radio Times review

Peter Capaldi plays it straight as a film buff and devotee of the now defunct Cricklewood Studios. Pure fiction, of course, but pinning spoofs of cheap British movies and even cheaper British movie stars onto a made-up studio lets Capaldi and co-writer Tony Roche have some arch fun.

Capaldi presents this "documentary" celebrating the output of his beloved Cricklewood Studios (now a DIY superstore). He recalls Florrie Fontaine (Lindsay Marshal), a terrifyingly cheerful Gracie Fields-type singer whose career died when she became friendly with Nazi high command: "I speak as I find, and they were grand company."

Watch out for Hustle's Kelly Adams as a Barbara Windsor-ish bimbette, star of the Thumbs Up series. But the show is stolen by Terry Gilliam, playing himself, a profligate director who brought the studio to its knees.

Cricklewood Greats, BBC Four, review

Isabel Mohan reviews Cricklewood Greats, The Thick of It's Peter Capaldi's spoof documentary on BBC Four.

I didn't do a lot of laughing during Peter Capaldi's Cricklewood Greats (BBC4, Sunday). This may be because this kind of spoof documentary is rarely funny. Or because what is being sent up here - a particularly kind of reverential documentary - isn't enough of a phenomenon for most people to merit the ridicule. Or because acting (at which Capaldi is obviously brilliant) and writing are very different skills. Or a combination of all of the above. But I'm afraid it left me cold.

Cricklewood Greats review: super spoof

Cricklewood Greats, a mockumentary which Peter Capaldi wrote, directed and presented, is a strange beast and unlike most comedies, gets stronger as it goes on. Excellent stuff.

I love a spoof documentary, me. Not, you understand, of the nonsensical Life's Too Short variety, but rather those spot-on parodies of pop culture epochs such as Eric Idle's magnificent Beatles spoof, The Rutles: All You Need Is Cash, and Harry Enfield and Paul Whitehouse's criminally underrated Smashie and Nicey: End of an Era.

As well as being packed with exquisite gags, those mock-docs worked so beautifully because of their loving attention to detail, proving that the very best parodies are made by those who know their subject inside out. And while Peter Capaldi's the Cricklewood Greats doesn't quite reach such giddy heights, it certainly delivers in terms of affectionate irreverence and the care with which it's made.

Charting the wavering fortunes of a fictional British film studio - think Ealing by way of Hammer, and all stops in between - it functions not only as an impressively realised parody of the average BBC 4 entertainment documentary, but also of those insight-free films in which a celebrity hijacks an interesting subject in pursuit of their own meaningless "personal journey."

Written in conjunction with his The Thick Of It cohort Tony Roche - who also penned BBC 4's splendid Python biopic, Holy Flying Circus - Capaldi directs and also stars as himself, paying overly-reverential tribute to the ghosts of the Cricklewood dream factory, including thinly disguised versions of Gracie Fields, Peter Cushing and Kenneth Williams (the acutely observed pastiches of his withering diary entries are a particular highlight).

No "tears behind the laughter" cliché is left unturned in this modest treat for connoisseurs of archive film and television, which, although merely amusing rather than hilarious, is still witty and charming and thoroughly commendable.