It does sometimes seem like just one-long exchange of well-crafted insults, but Armando Iannucci's comedy of political (bad) manners is one of the most purely enjoyable things on television. This week a reluctant Peter Mannion (Roger Allam) has been dragooned into a "thought camp" in a rural hotel with no mobile signal. And then the proverbial hits the fan.

Pure pleasure. Export-strength comedy joy. Tonight's instalment reminds you why this show has spawned hit films and American TV shows and slightly tilted everyone's view on the business of politics.

It's another shambling day at DoSAC, except that because it's a bank holiday senior minister Peter is away at the hated Stewart's Thought Camp in Kent. ("Let's architecturalise this," burbles Stewart. "We're policy jamming here.") So Mannion has no mobile reception when disastrous news breaks. Back at the department, things get hilariously petty as friendless Phil tries to find out why the junior minister is meeting an attractive economist. A machine gun of brilliant lines rattles away through the script. Resistance is useless.

The Thick of It: lines of the week - episode three

Those coalition chaps are shaping up to be comedy gold, while Mr Tickle's 'departure' brings everyone together. No, not really.

The Thick Of It series 4 episode 3 review

It's back to the Coalition in this week's episode of The Thick Of It, and all is not well...

Dressed like 'the manager of an organic wine bar', a disgusted Peter Mannion MP (the incomparable Roger Allam) is obliged to attend an isolated 'Thought Camp' in the country, run by - who else - the detestable Stewart Pearson. As ever, Pearson doesn't so much engage as vomit up a continual stream of corporate ticker tape and New Age sewage: 'Isolation is the mother of renewal'; 'Time is a leash on the dog of ideas.' Mutters a ball-tossing Mannion: 'Some of us had to go through this hippie shit the first time around.' Back at HQ, Adam and Fergus aren't so much holding the fort as putting it to the torch and leapfrogging in the ashes - having bought a taxpayer-funded bank 'out of social embarrassment'. And then tragedy strikes. Glorious.

Back in the Thick Of It

A new series of The Thick Of It sets its sights on the coalition 'omnishambles'. Is life beginning to imitate art?

Review: The Thick of It

The ConDem coalition has been both a godsend and an almighty cul de sac for political satirists.

Malcolm returned in The Thick of It, his early melancholy dispelled by his decision that it's time to evict Nicola Murray from her post as Leader of the Opposition. "She's electoral asbestos," he tells a fellow plotter. "She's going to sleep with the fishes. Or at least witter on at them until they lose the fucking will to live." The Thick of It isn't sweet or lovable and hasn't a fraction of Moone Boy's essential good-heartedness. I don't think it's forgiving or tender to any of its characters. But it doesn't need to be because it offers an unceasing stream of savagely funny lines. "I can't even see the clicking of the pilot light," Malcolm said disgustedly, as he searched in Nicola's eyes for the "fire" of political passion. Difficult to like him, but almost as hard not to laugh.

The Thick Of It series 4 episode 2 review

Overall, it was an episode of chess moves, hatched plots, and gradually escalating storylines peppered with characteristic flashes of brilliant writing and the odd clever laugh-out-loud line.

Nervous Nicola Murray, now Leader of the Opposition, is practising her solemn walk for the Remembrance Day wreath laying ceremony. She's not very good at it, as her éminence grise Malcolm Tucker observes, "You're not throwing a straw frisbee in slow motion." Yes, mighty Malcolm (Peter Capaldi) is back, surfing a rip-tide of invective, and he's already plotting to bring down the hapless Murray (Rebecca Front) whose first major policy initiative, under the unfortunate heading of "Quiet Bat People", is torpedoed by everyone, particularly those closest to her.

Tucker is greyer than ever, like an ash-cloud of malevolence, which is an effective camouflage when he practises his dark arts in even darker cupboards, pulling would-be allies to one side for a little word. Of course, most of his words consist of four letters, so brace yourselves. Malcolm, you have been missed.