Victor Lewis-Smith

The long arm of TV law grew even longer last night with the first episode of a new sitcom, The Thin Blue Line (BBC1), although sit-trag might be more appropriate for a programme that hit the screen not with a bang but with a whimper. Written by Ben Elton (the man who took the b out of banal), hgere was a perfect opportunity for a coruscating satire on Her Majesty's Filth, yet it soon became obvious that the Gasforth constabulary were policing an area set not in England, but deep inside Terry and June land.

Smug alert warning

The show should work, and it usually does, largely due to Dan Patterson, a producer with unparalleled success at transferring radio comedy to television. Peter Salem's music is brave and exquisitely macabre, and the titles are award-winners, but this particular edition must (as Denis Norden might say) have employed a flaw manager.

Like the late, unlamented Spitting Image, far too many impersonations had no satirical point to make, merely trying to raise laughs by putting sensible people in foolish predicaments but, unlike the latex puppets (whose sketches were at least restricted to 30 seconds maximum), Bremner interminably flogged feeble ideas into the ground.

Mindful of its tacky image, Carlton doubtless thought that throwing money at a show with a posh bird like Joanna Lumley and the word "class" in the title would guarantee ratings and quality. It didn't, and all they've succeeded in producing is a thoroughly plebeian series about a toff, totally lacking the genuine class that Thames achieved with the low-life cast of Minder.

The strain shows most in the field of comedy, where ability is now spread so thinly that strong material and consummate performance seldom coexist in a single show, so I gave thanks last night for the return of Smith and Jones (BBC1). In the tradition of Peter Cook and Dudley Moore, Mel Smith and Griff Rhys Jones are a double act without a straight man, both possessing an immaculate sense of timing and a natural comic flair, and both taking an innocent delight in smuggling enormous amounts of hilariously filthy material onto the network, without anyone apparently noticing.

Men behaving humourlessly

A sort of Trevor and Simon with A-levels (and we all know how easy they are to get nowadays). Punt and Dennis have modestly named their latest series after themselves but, having watched an entire half-hour, I can vouch that it should, by rights, be called Recommissioned Series II - The Miracle Continues.

Old-timer comes to life

Even so, after enduring decades of his nauseating Golden Shot and Opportunity Knocks persona (I still can't forget those scripted emotional outbursts, and those tearful, spontaneous donations to charity), how dare he now be so effortlessly and spectacularly funny? Few performers can switch comedy on and off like a tap, but he can, which is why Bob Monkhouse On The Spot is spot on.

A pair of tragic comedians

The Trev and Simon Summer Special (BBC1) was, paradoxically, a thoroughly anodyne programme that managed to inflict extreme irritation on its viewers. Having spent years clinging for dear life to the Saturday morning children's strand (once leaving in search of the big time, only to return crestfallen shortly afterwards), television's latest double-act-with-two-straight-men has finally been rewarded with its own early-evening show: peak-time for them, pique-time for us.

Of course, such a seminal series deserves to be shown again, but the partnership was only at its best in Whatever Happened To The Likely Lads, when Bob had become middle-class, Terry had inexplicably acquired a Geordie accent, the horrendous Thelma had appeared, and the ingredients were finally in place for a serious comedy about class and sex.

Last night, Hancock's World (BBC2) brought us an affectionate reminder of the man in his prime, with a compilation full of his futile rebellions against the austerity of post-war Britain, and his grandiose dreams of rising above his humble station in life. [...] It's easy to make a dog's dinner when editing archive-based shows (look no further than the Carry On compilations for proof of that), but Chris Tonge's timing was faultless throughout, resulting in yet another excellent comedy biography from BBC North, celebratory without being sentimental.