Nevermind The Buzzcocks

Tuning in for Nevermind The Buzzcocks (BBC Two) has filled me with trepidation of late. Since the departure of Simon Amstell and Bill Bailey, it certainly seemed like the show was doomed. However, it survived the departure of Mark Lamarr… so maybe, like Have I Got News For You?, the show is bigger than any one person… right?

Recent shows have felt very hit-and-miss and it seems like a long time since I heartily snorted over the show… however… last night gave me some hope as …Buzzcocks hit vintage stride with a decent mix of guest and weirdly, the presenter.

When I discovered that Claudia Winkelman was heading up the show, my heart sank. However, on the strength of last night’s show, I could easily buy into her becoming the permanent resident of the host’s chair.

Y’see, …Buzzcocks is a show that has had far too importance heaped on it. People had started to analyse every pun and movement, me included. Hell, I’m doing it now. That’s because I’m an idiot and paid to be one.

Anyway, despite the efforts of Amstell and Lamarr, who continually told us how throwaway the whole thing was, fans of the show started acting like the obsessive sorts who get down the front of indie gigs singing all the words to the b-sides. It was almost like we were all mewing about how good that obscure EP release was the best thing ever created, safe in the knowledge that no-one had heard it and could in no way refute the claim.

Last night, the show was vintage! Rambling and vicious, the jokes took second billing to the things that popped in on the hoof.

In Jamelia, dubbed as “a professional gameshow panellist”, we got some seriously golden TV which made me feel drunker than George Best’s three livers. Go check it out on iPlayer if you missed it. One segment featured chicken sausages and a bear, the other, a toe-curling broadside at someone in the line-up – revenge, served up on national television.

Nearly eclipsing that was Harry Shearer who brought my mental house down by doing a couple voices he does on The Simpsons.

Like Have I Got News For You?, this show, now it’s clearly at ease with having to be carried by Jupitus and Fielding (who, oddly, is growing on me despite the fact he always looks like he’s got swine flu), could start making me snot with mirth all over again.

If I was worried that it would perish this season, I’m no longer fretting and can feel safe in the knowledge that Wednesday nights will make me laugh again. It’s a nice thing to know as you approach the hump of the week. Next time, we’ve got Mark Watson. That’s no bad thing at all.

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