Radio Times review

Another enjoyable meander through the gripes of the rich and famous. The temptation is for celebrity guests to overstate their bugbears. Are sliding doors truly "an abomination", Miles Jupp? Is there really "nothing worse" than people with limp handshakes, Kelly Hoppen? But Frank Skinner always has a nice way of either undercutting the grumbles or trumping them with a funnier observation of his own. ("Don't you find that litter can brighten an otherwise grey pavement?" he enquires of Vernon Kay.)

The host also has viral video clips at his fingertips that are worth the price of admission on their own: tonight, the classic moment when a sleeping commuter is swept aside by sliding train doors, plus a man doing the washing up overreacts to a shock from his daughter.

Radio Times review

Sometimes this show works a sort of reverse magic and normally witty guests come across as whingeing sticks-in-the-mud. There's something about having to explain why you hate some aspect of modern life that makes everyone into a variant of Victor Meldrew if you're not careful. Tonight even the reliably droll Lee Mack teeters on the edge of curmudgeonliness as he rails against cars and kids parties, but of course he recovers his wits.

Meanwhile, Ruby Wax's mother sounds maddening, but can you really consign you own mum to Room 101? The audience sound doubtful. Most diverting part of the show: the tale of Dave Myers' alopecia. No wonder he hates wigs.

Radio Times review

Caroline Quentin doesn't like control pants and wants them dumped in Room 101 as her most hated aspect of the Modern World. You can tell by the reaction of the women in the audience that they feel the same way about being "crammed into Lycra... I've been subjected to these for years."

Meanwhile the tiresomely provocative German comedian Henning Wehn, who has bafflingly been taken to the bosom of Radio Four and both BBC One and BBC Two, judging by the number of times he appears on panel shows, hates anything to do with fundraising. And Michael Ball is fed up with being sent teddy bears by fans: "I've got enough now, I don't need any more."

After 14 series of banishing the horrors of modern life into Room 101, the world should, theoretically, be an altogether marvellous place by now, free of all annoyances and populated almost entirely by kittens. So what a pity that Room 101 isn't real. Still, we can dream.

Competing to consign their personal pet hates to oblivion in this week's surprisingly controversial instalment are Caroline Quentin, Michael Ball and comedian Henning Wehn. Henning is German, and if you didn't know that before the start of this episode you certainly will once it gets going. Perhaps that's why he has the brass neck to attack a cornerstone of British life - fundraising.

What's even more surprising is that he's doing it at primetime on the BBC, home of Children In Need, Comic Relief and Sport Relief. If Henning had his way, Pudsey Bear would be on the dole.

And speaking of bears, just wait till you see one of the props that Frank is modelling tonight - it's one of the daftest ever.

The laugh-per-half-hour quota is guaranteed to stay steady with crooner Michael Ball and one-woman comfort blanket Caroline Quentin trying not to be upstaged by comedy German Henning Wehn. While Quentin attempts to banish control pants into the legendary room, Wehn goes straight for the jugular with fundraising. And don't get him started on the royal family. Ball, meanwhile, can't stand being showered with soft toys. "You want to toughen up your image," suggests Henning as the heart of many a fan breaks.

Room 101, BBC One, review

The first episode of the new series of Room 101 suggested that the format is on its last legs.

A new series of mock-Orwellian oratory hits Friday night, with Joan Bakewell, Roisin Conaty and Richard Osman attempting to sneak their bugbears past Room 101 bouncer Frank Skinner. Irritants in the dock of discontent tonight include customer-service surveys, greetings cards containing pre-felt emotions, and the less-heralded animals making up the numbers in zoos around the globe. Every bit as unchallenging as you'd expect from the panel-led revamp, but the game "leg-selfie or hot dog" does sweeten the pill somewhat.

The mighty Pointless fact file that is Richard Osman - all 6ft 7in of him in his size 14 shoes - reveals his distrust of shoemakers and disgruntlement with people who tell him he's tall as a new season of personal hates and bugbears checks in for business. Frank Skinner resumes his duties as arbitrary arbiter of banishing dislikes to oblivion, with broadcaster Joan Bakewell and comedian Roisin Conaty taking a pew alongside Mr Osman. Among the more contentious candidates for annihilation are gardening and Bambi. And watch out for a clip featuring a massive snake - it's a real shocker.

Radio Times review

Richard Osman of the quiz show Pointless is one of the quickest wits on TV. Fact. The guy is a giant of comedy, although actually he doesn't like people mentioning his height. Fellow panellists - writer and broadcaster Joan Bakewell and comedian Roisin Conaty - and even host Frank Skinner, don't stand a chance as he tosses bons mots and puns into the conversation with casual ease.

Of course, all the guests put forward suggestions for things to be consigned to oblivion - the pet hates tonight range from gardening to cobblers. Skinner, meanwhile, deftly choreographs the banter for maximum laughs.

However, it's Skinner himself who gets the best reaction when he tells the heart-warming story of how a little boy left his much-loved cuddly toy behind at his holiday hotel. The staff there then did something wonderful to persuade him that his toy was fine, but just extending his vacation.

Room 101 - TV review

I like Richard Osman (massive fan of Pointless), but I very much disagree with his views, on Room 101 (BBC One), about "zoo filler".