Radio Times

You'd be right to be wary of the unscripted nightmare that is the live radio phone-in. Presenter and listener alike are thrust into a scenario in which confused members of the public offer their ill-thought-out opinions on immigration, petrol prices or the "nanny state".

Or perhaps, later at night, you might hear bored, lonely callers lacing an otherwise inconsequential chat with precise details of their ailments - of which there are many.

They are no-win gambles, unlucky dips that quickly become a test of endurance: how long can you stay tuned in before sheer embarrassment forces...

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In its heyday, The Big Breakfast was always going to be a tough act to follow. This loud, brash, unruly light entertainment show somehow made the journey from one's bed to the office less traumatic by adhering to a simple formula: being a visual blitz for the sleep-deadened masses.

Unless you happen to be one of those annoying "morning" people who radiate the kind of daybreak ebullience it takes the rest of us half a bottle of wine to achieve, then the very least we expect from a morning TV show is that it wakes us up...

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Outside of low-rent horror flicks, Star Wars and Police Academy, it's not often a movie makes it to five sequels - and even less often that the last one is any good.

But lovable puncher Rocky's back, and the sixth film in the series, Rocky Balboa, topped the UK box office in its first week of release (January 2007), making writer/director/star Sylvester Stallone a very happy man.

In the film, a washed-up, 50-something Rocky makes a fighting comeback, to prove (in his own, slightly slurred words) that he's "still got something left in the basement". Why 60-year-old...

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The fundamental basics of economics are harder to grasp than a dog in a bathtub. This means that you would need to be extremely intelligent to understand the subject in such depth that you can carve out a successful career from presenting its complexities to the public.

In turn, you'd need to exude extraordinary character in order to do so without coming across as a bit of a smug, know-it-all git. This is where we find Evan Davis, at the crossroads where brains meet charm (the corner of Vorderman Street and Lynam Avenue, perhaps).

There is something...

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All admiration has its roots in jealousy.

I think Wayne Rooney is an amazing footballer, and then I remember how many years younger he is than me and how many more millions of pounds he has (which is lots, because I don't have any millions of pounds).

I'm jealous because in my head I can picture myself playing football like him. I can visualise scoring a hat-trick on my Manchester United debut, like he did. I know that I couldn't, of course, because I'm rubbish.

But nonetheless a small part of my brain, the part...

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Along with fast food and plastic surgery, one of the least palatable American exports we have embraced in Britain has to be the "talk show". When did we loosen our stiff upper lip to flaunt such grave dilemmas as "I'm 68 and love my teenage Albanian lover" on live TV?

The worst part of the whole debacle is the role of the talk-show host. A kind of drive-thru pseudo therapist who espouses clichés, solicits inane audience questions, and wields the ever-present threat of the "lie detector test" as proof of their moral guru-like status. They even...

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Some people sound as though they learnt the English language on the planet Mars. Christopher Walken, say. Or David Bowie.

Sid Waddell, the voice of darts, appears to have overheard a snippet of a conversation between Walken and Bowie, then invented the rest himself. He is unrestricted by the laws of syntax and holds scant regard for the ways of the mother tongue. Sid Waddell isn't just a commentary icon, he's a poet.

Football had Kenneth Wolstenholme, snooker "Whispering" Ted Lowe, but it's darts that has pulled the otherwise humdrum world of commentary into hitherto unheard-of levels...

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We've come a long way since Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. Back at the height of the Cold War, the espionage game was conducted over grey filing cabinets or through the slats of Venetian blinds. Usually by people wearing very thick glasses.

Nowadays, secret agents are younger, sexier and contracted to walk three abreast while making witty asides at the same time as saving Blighty from disaster. This is the explosive world of Spooks - an arena where renewed national anxieties in the post-9/11 world has taken the place of Soviet double agents.

Slick, controversial and never one...

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One man's tat is another man's treasure.

If you're lucky enough to have a day off work - or unlucky enough to have a stinking cold - and you're slumped in front of the TV with a tepid mug of tea in one hand and the remote control in the other, you'll find yourself overwhelmed with an array of other people's stuff. Napkin rings, vulcanite vestas and carriage clocks are in abundance, appearing on a procession of programmes dedicated to antiques and collectables.

Twenty years ago, our only real chance to see the contents of the...

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You've Been Framed, for all its problems (Jonathan Wilkes presenting? Isn't that like Douglas Bader dancing?) caters for an inherent human need: the need to see people falling over.

I love seeing people fall over. Fainting grooms at weddings, children tripping over dogs - the pure slapstick of someone (though particularly Jonathan Wilkes) stacking it into the floor unexpectedly is ridiculously bloody funny.

There is, however, one fall funnier than any other - funnier, in fact, than any other scene in any other comedy series ever. Funnier than the Brent dance. Funnier than "fork handles". Funnier than the...

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Ever since Man discovered that storms weren't actually the result of Thor riding across the sky on a chariot pulled by goats, there's been a big problem with weather: it's not very funny. But if you're on TV, your duty is to entertain.

Some weatherpeople make a token effort: talking through a doggedly maintained rictus grin, wearing deliberately hilarious clothing or, if they're on ITV in the mornings, pointing to the map with their breasts instead of their hands. Yet there's only one whose performance is worth watching even if you don't care a fig for tomorrow's...

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As contentious issues go, this must be right up there with "Marmite is lovely", "David Dickinson is naturally orange" and "I can assure you, that was my winning lottery ticket".

Most people would pick that most iconic of Doctor Who monsters, the Daleks. But they would be wrong. (Told you it was going to be contentious.)

Trundling around on castors, banging on about ruling the universe while noticeably never managing to do so, pronouncing things in syllables - "Doc-tor!", "Ex-ter-min-ate!", "My, what a pre-tty em-broi-dered kit-ten!" - as if swotting for their GCSE English. Opposable thumbs? These...

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There are some who say that The Archers is the soap for people who don't like soaps. Or at least for those who won't admit to following one.

Out of the limelight, its actors rarely making the front page of the tabloids; it retains a certain dignity in the face of the Walford gangsters and the teen pregnancies of Weatherfield.

BBC Radio 4 typically announces episodes with words like: "And now, over in the kitchen at Glebe Cottage, Jill's busy making scones." Moments of high tension come with social organiser Lynda Snell's casting of the Christmas play,...

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The news has changed. Gone are the days of received pronunciation and stuffy presentation; these days the news has more in common with an entertainment magazine show.

The war in Iraq sits in the headlines alongside Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes's wedding ceremony. A story about the one-year anniversary of the introduction of 24-hour licensing laws is presented from a virtual pub by a newsreader sat on a virtual bar stool. And in this case where the laws have had very little effect on anything whatsoever, presenting virtual news.

There is very little point in bemoaning this...

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