The 25th anniversary Blackadder Rides Again documentary was fifteen minutes of worthwhile information and footage, separating clips that sometimes didn't even last to the punchlines. G.O.L.D's Blackadder documentary a few months ago covered most of the bases here, so this was a bit tiresome for me. For fans, there wasn't much to get terribly excited about - unless you liked to be reminded how dour and humourless Rowan Atkinson is in real life (he admits it himself), wanted to see a clip from the original pilot episode (is the whole thing available as a DVD extra?), and that terrible last shot of Blackadder Goes Forth (before a bit of slo-mo and piano music transform it into one of British comedy's greatest moments.)

He might not find the arrival of his bus pass terribly funny, but as the Prince of Wales celebrates his 60th birthday, at least he can have a chortle at the stellar comedy line-up amassed here in his honour. The Prince's pulling power has not only lured reclusive comedy greats John Cleese and Rowan Atkinson onto the live stage for this one-off show, but has also enticed the brilliant Robin Williams across the pond to do his first British stand-up gig in over 25 years. And why not - Sir Robin Williams does have a certain ring to it.

He's always loved a good chuckle, has our Charlie - aka HRH The Prince of Wales.

So this comedy spectacular, recorded earlier this week, was the best possible way for the heir to the throne to celebrate his 60th birthday (other than for his mum to shift over and let him run the country for a day, and I was never convinced that was going to happen).

Also designed to help raise awareness of (and money for) The Prince's Trust, it features some all-time comedy greats, a number of whom are stepping onto a British stage (the New Wimbledon Theatre, to be precise) for the first time in yonks.

John Cleese, for example, is our Master of Ceremonies, while those performing stand-up and sketches include Robin Williams, Rowan Atkinson and Joan Rivers.

The ghost of Joe Orton looms large over this spirited black comedy from White Noise scriptwriter Niall Johnson. A dark British farce, it boasts a delicious performance by ]Maggie Smith as an elderly housekeeper with a deadly way of resolving domestic unrest. Hired to look after the family of Rowan Atkinson's nerdy country vicar, she quietly sets about tackling their individual problems - from his son being bullied at school to his teen daughter's nymphomania.

While her resulting Serial Mom-style solutions are often predictable, they're no less entertaining, benefiting from some neat gallows humour and an edgy sense of fun. In fact, Smith outshines all the cast with her immaculate comic timing, despite strong competition from Patrick Swayze as a sleazy US golf instructor who's romancing Atkinson's wife, Kristin Scott Thomas.

Surprisingly, the only real downside is Atkinson, whose customary bumbling schtick feels forced and twee in an otherwise boisterous affair.

The fourth edition of this five-star sitcom opens with what is now a running joke on how the budget airline crew either don't know or don't care about the technicalities of taking off, flying or landing.

I've listened every week, expecting it to crash land but John Finnemore's writing flies in first class. And then there's Roger Allam's performance as the bitter first officer who despises his captain. He is to sarcasm and sneering what Rowan Atkinson's Blackadder was to, well, sarcasm and sneering. Radio sitcom success stories are rare: let's hope this one's in from the long haul.

A would-be black comedy in a rural British setting, this sees vicar Walter Goodfellow (Rowan Atkinson, of course) employing a housekeeper, Grace (Maggie Smith), who just happens to be a released murderer. Equally unimaginative casting comes in the form of Kristin Scott Thomas as a foul-mouthed, frustrated wife and Patrick Swayze as a pervy American golf pro who gets the village ladies in a spin.

Grace sets about solving the Rev Goodfellow's family problems in her own unique style while the family engage in farcical sitcom banter (sometimes funny, sometimes not). It's like dumping a serial killer into a very, very long episode of The Vicar of Dibley and expecting it to work: there's no artful black comedy here, just an uncomfortable clash between broad provincial humour and a murder plotline.

The central cast are up to the job: Smith deadpans delightfully when she can, and Atkinson upgrades his bumbling Four Weddings and a Funeral performance to mildly amusing effect. But despite its genial characters, Keeping Mum is an undisciplined, ultimately unsuccessful experiment in British black comedy.

A Bumbling British Spy, Both Shaken and Stirred

Rowan Atkinson, the gangly, rubber-faced British comedian who is the star and raison d'être of Johnny English, has collected a devoted American following for his two television personas, the history-hopping scoundrel Blackadder and the hapless, spastic Mr. Bean.

Fears of a clown

He's the rubber-faced joker with millions in the bank and a 007 spoof on the way, yet Rowan Atkinson would still swap the burden of comedy for the joy of fixing a plug