The IT Crowd, Friday 9.30pm, Channel 4
Posted by Will Parkhouse
Our rating:
Any IT Crowd newcomers who saw last week's series opener might have been a bit bemused, and understandably so. Why? For a start, it wasn't set in the office - instead the geeky computer department trio went on a farcical trip to the theatre. Oh, also: there weren't any laughs.
Luckily tonight's episode takes things back to base, as well as bringing a decent amount of funny. This has a lot to do with a pantomime-like turn from satire king Chris Morris as company boss Denholm, who starts the episode by proclaiming, brilliantly: "When I first started Reynholm Industries I had just two things: a dream, and six million pounds. Today I have a business empire the like of which the world has never seen the like of which."
Sadly, Morris's character dies shortly afterwards. Meanwhile, Moss works out Roy's"deathdate", using a website. Roy's not too happy about this - see the clip below.
Mayhem ensues, natch. It's an odd show - as if everyone involved has been told to exaggerate everything they do until it all becomes confusingly surreal. I still can't decide whether Richard Ayoade as Moss is absolutely dire or completely brilliant - his performance is so utterly wooden, it's like he's parodying acting itself. Ah well, Friday night - perhaps it's best just to get drunk and let it wash over you like a weird dream.


Apparently this isn’t a cruel and “hilarious” prank. No. It is in fact an attempt to bring green issues to the fore by highlighting what happens to domestic waste when it leaves our homes.
Once summed up by Mike Baldwin as “a bit of a nutter, but harmless enough”, Roy is something of a genius on the sly – maths, automotive engines and the Manchester Ship Canal are just some of his areas of expertise. He’s also got a heart of gold, comforting Liz McDonald when she was beaten up by her husband Jim and taking in various waifs and strays, including former jailbird Becky.
For a start, were these kids from the poshest comprehensive in the world ever, or what? The entire cast, apart from nerdy Sid, spoke with the straight-from-stage-school accent we’ve come to expect of the kids in the Harry Potter films (yes, Emma Watson, I’m talking to you.) How they had the gall to laugh at the Hugos and Abigails from the nearby private school who were only fractionally posher than they were, I don’t understand.
Dad Greg and mum Stephanie are nuts about the Middle Ages. What began as harmless dabbling in historical re-enactment has spiralled out of control. They dress in robes, wake the kids up with a harp, eat medieval food from wooden plates and avoid going out into the scary modern world as much as they can.

Never one to shirk a sticky situation, our Ann hits red light districts in Manchester, Southampton and Peterborough to assess how effectively the government is dealing with the problems created by the world’s oldest profession.
The trials and tribulations of Ramsay Street have been as much a staple of Britons’ TV diets as Coronation Street or EastEnders, while characters like Scott ‘n’ Charlene and Mrs Mangel have become legends in their own teatime.
In the first show our brave teachers, Michelin star chef John Burton Race and Gordon Ramsay protégé Angela Hartnett, hold auditions for their cookery boot camp and ask applicants to bring along their signature dish. The resulting grim taste test includes "tuna bake” (a tin of tuna and a packet of powdered potato with water poured on top), “sausage and lentil bake” (cremated meat) and a Pot Noodle – yes, that’s right, just a Pot Noodle. Oh how we all chuckle.
In the first sentimental instalment, Des Lynam chooses the Seven Sisters – the South Downs cliffs, not the gritty bit of north London - although his questionable commentary is apt enough for both: “Like a lot of ladies, they are never to be underestimated.” Um, Ok Des. So far, so Swiss Toni.
Like the previous stabs at Tom Cruise and Take That, this episode absolutely rattles along through its half-hour slot, and it's very funny. The few jokes that do fall flat pass so quickly that it hardly matters, and there are lots of nice little sight gags using mocked-up magazine covers detailing Simon's triumphs.
Joking apart, it's fascinating watching
In this provocatively-titled programme, four female foodies, or “cool cooks” as the blurb has it, take a slightly overweight woman and teach her how to make slimline versions of popular stodgy dishes, thereby helping the calorie-counter to "shift the bulge and still indulge".
Actually, the central theme of the two shows wasn't dissimilar, but instead of Pat helping the police with their enquiries, Empathy saw really rather tasty ex-con Jimmy Collins (represented by Stephen Moyer and his lovely cheekbones) being tormented by visions of violence and death whenever he touched someone. As you can imagine, this didn't do much for his sex life - and the police turned out not to be terribly sympathetic either when he turned up wanting to tell them about a murder he'd "witnessed".
Come Dancing, now that had class. It was old-school and showed skill. And Angela Rippon’s gowns were, for want of a better expression, breathtaking. Strictly Come Dancing is OK. Bruce Forsyth adds panache and we get to watch celebrities weep in training over their woeful foxtrots and freestyles. Dancing on Ice? Well, I think it’s actually treason to slag off Torvill and Dean, but their talents aside, the show is a double serving of terrible with Phillip Schofield on top.