In David Frost: Hello, Good Evening and Farewell, a tribute to the late presenter and interviewer, we learned that there was far more to the man than a memorable greeting. He was, said Michael Grade, the first real television creation. By which he meant that Frost didn't start in another medium and migrate to television. He went pretty much straight from Cambridge University to television fame. There was no gap year.

He instinctively grasped what made watchable television. He interviewed everyone in the days when everyone could be interviewed: Muhammad Ali, Enoch Powell, Idi Amin, the Beatles and, of course, Richard Nixon. It's hard to believe that anyone else could have landed the exclusive Nixon interview and also fronted Through the Keyhole. It's hard enough to believe that Frost did it. Alas, he never managed to fuse these two achievements into a Through the Keyhole on Nixon - Loyd Grossman: "There's an orful lort of yellow damarsk. A sheik, perhaps, or a master criminawl."

For a time there were rumours that Frost wasn't well liked by some of his contemporaries. Peter Cook once called him the "bubonic plagiarist" for muscling in on his satirical territory. But everyone here was emphatic that Frost was one of nature's nice blokes. Michael Palin, the nicest man in the world, even said he was very nice. And what of the tribute itself, which was presented by Jonathan Ross? In a word, nice.

Stephen Fry hails Peter Cook's 'extraordinary genius'

Stephen Fry has paid tribute to the 'extraordinary genius' of Peter Cook, saying he is 'part of the DNA of all British comedy that came after him'.

Review: The Establishment Club with Stephen Fry

Stephen Fry's tributes to Peter Cook during Keith Allen's Establishment Club at Ronnie Scott's had a charming Radio 4 quality to them, says Dominic Cavendish.

Stephen Fry on Peter Cook at the Establishment

Good to hear that Stephen Fry is going to be a special guest at the next revived Establishment Club night at Ronnie Scott's on April 24th.

It's not often you see Frank Skinner completely lost for words. So full marks to Miranda Hart for reducing him and her male fellow panellists to utter embarrassment with her unexpected nomination for a pet hate to consign to Room 101.

The re-imagined format is the same as it was last year when Frank Skinner stepped into Paul Merton's shoes. Three guests compete to have items in particular categories sent to pretend oblivion. Presenters John Craven and Reggie Yates also gamely do the business tonight. But it's a tougher gig than it looks.

The secret to being a really good Room 101 guest is being able to be amusingly irate about some quite trivial detail of modern life, without tipping over the edge into actual, genuine, scary anger.

The late Peter Cook calmly pointing to the mind-numbing dullness of the countryside - "has this film been speeded up?" - is still the gold standard by which all guests will be judged and Reggie Yates, bless him, is no Peter Cook. But then how het up is it possible to get about the existence of yogurt drinks?

Anyone casually inferring that the title of this 90-minute documentary might shed light on the inner workings of knowing music-hall surrealist Frankie Howerd is likely to be mildly disappointed. The Lost Tapes is far more interested in his stage-and-screen career than his occasionally tumultuous private life. That said, the plethora of footage unearthed here is an absolute treat for any fan of British comedy. Bruce Forsyth, Tim Vine, Ross Noble, Roy Hudd, Galton & Simpson and the eternally youthful Barry Cryer guide us through clips ranging from Frankie's stint at Peter Cook's Establishment Club to his scenes - sadly left on the cutting-room floor - with Wendy Richard and Paul McCartney in The Beatles' Help! to footage of another musical misfire in his role opposite The Bee Gees in the regrettable promotional movie that accompanied their Cucumber Castle LP. Other nuggets include clips from 1973 Up Pompeii! rehash Whoops Baghdad and a 1976 sitcom made for Canadian TV.

Is politics the new comedy?

Much as I am loathe to cannibalise one of my own columns just three weeks in, I wanted to revisit my musings on political comedy that I made in my first column. I would feel a bit remiss in not reporting back that the first night of The Establishment, the revival of Peter Cook's satire soiree, was not the peek into the future of political comedy that the organisers (including host Keith Allen) might have hoped for. The reasons for this were various.

Review: The Establishment, Ronnie Scott's, London

Pre-dating the birth of the Comedy Store and the explosion of the "alternative" club circuit by nearly 20 years, Peter Cook's short-lived club, The Establishment, was ahead of its time in showcasing politically nuanced live comedy.

Time for Peter Cook to have the last laugh

As the late comic's Establishment club reopens, his widow talks about her 'rude but genius' husband.

Why British satire is hard bloody work

Peter Cook's old Establishment club is back in London after 50 years - will it bring some Armando Iannucci- or Ian Hislop-esque hard satire to the live circuit?