Charlie Brooker's Screenwipe: Review of the Year 2009

I always enjoy a bit of Charlie. This is perhaps less to do with his level of insight than the simple fact that I want his job. For what could be more fulfilling than trawling through endless clips of trashy TV and making snide remarks about it all? Perhaps I admire the format more than the presenter. His schoolboy-ish delivery and his predilection for wanking jokes, though enjoyable, are somewhat inappropriate for BBC4. He endears himself to his audience by coupling an air superiority with extreme self-loathing. How very British of him. I am afraid his charms are often lost on me.

The appeal of the show is in its analysis. For example, Brooker's dissection of the political-correctness-gone-mad fist-wringing moan-fest that was Noel's HQ, presented by the mental Noel Edmonds, struck a particularly tuneful chord. Dodgy TV clairvoyant Derek Acorah's Michael Jackson Seance was also a high point. Who knew such programmes even existed? Half the fun of Screenwipe is the ability of Brooker (or Brooker's research team) to unearth hilariously awful programmes that have surreptitiously made their way into the TV schedule. The vitriolic rants on how poor quality television is a manifestation of a society in decline are often unnecessary, since we, the audience, do not need to be reminded how terrible these programmes are. They speak for themselves. The writing in Screenwipe is witty and engaging, so hats off to Charlie for that, but perhaps he could do with drafting in a professional presenter.

I am not an avid follower of Brooker's other work but I do occasionally dabble. There have been five series of Screenwipe (to my knowledge), which has given him ample scope to discuss every area of television imaginable. Some of the best bits include Series 5 Episode 3 where Brooker spends the entire episode interviewing TV writers whom he admires (including the lovely Jesse Armstrong and Sam Bain of Peep Show fame), his analysis on childhood obesity in relation to class and his expose on the horrors of American TV. At this point, I should reveal that I learnt most of what I know about the broadcasting industry from Charlie. Screenwipe is infotainment at its best.

In a similar vein, Brooker also wrote and presented Gameswipe (interesting but mainly aimed at computer game fans) and Newswipe (absolutely mind blowing). Newswipe has much smaller target of critique than Screenwipe (i.e. the television news media rather than the entire of humanity) and therefore works better. Every episode is more enlightening than the last, ridiculing the all-singing all-dancing interactive reality TV game show that the news has become. I can particularly recommend the episode about America's right-wing media. Charlie also writes a column for The Guardian which, though I don't read it every week, seems to be a bit patchy. Sometimes it is a joy to read, sometimes it is simply a page of venomous venting and occasionally it is incoherent, clearly having been thrown together an hour before the deadline.

His occasional journalistic slip-ups do not undermine his overall talent. Brooker manages to present not only the follies but also the joys of telly, putting paid to the view that television is an instrument of evil, corrupting our children and killing our brain cells. Afterall, television has given us such delights as the hard-hitting drama The Wire, landmark documentarist Adam Curtis, and life-shaping kids programmes (see Stewart Lee's take on this - watch from 5:30 minutes.) Ultimately, Charlie fuels the fire of my most shameful vice - watching shows on telly on telly - without making me feel geeky.

Daniel Kitson at the Union Chapel in Islington

Daniel Kitson is the finest comedian performing in the UK today. I have done little of use with my life so far expect obsessively consume comedy, so you can safely assume that I do not bestow this compliment lightly. For a man whose job it is to make us laugh, Kitson spends an unbelievable amount of energy tackling bleak subjects. His whimsical monologues plumb the depths of tragedy but emerge all the more euphoric for it. His gig at the Union Chapel, We Are Gathered Here, focused on death, particularly that of his Auntie Angela from terminal cancer. I know what you're thinking. Little bit heavy for a weeknight's entertainment. Stay with me. It gets good. Kitson manages to prove that even in life's darkest moments when we are reminded that everything is meaningless, there are tiny beacons of light that appear to us and remind us that being alive is worth something.

As a man who displays some misanthropic tendencies, he may hate me for describing his work as accessible. He has a remarkable gift for simplicity of language without dumbing down and for intellectualising without excluding. Most observational comedy seems to involve the performer pointing out a widely understood but universally unacknowledged nugget of truth. The comedian says what I was thinking all along, which validates me and gives me a sense of camaraderie towards him. I feel gratified that I am not the only knowledgeable fish swimming in a sea full of idiots. Kitson is bigger than this. He truly enlightens his audience as he performs. He is a breath of fresh air.

The first time that I saw Daniel was in Peter Kay's Phoenix Nights. He played the ditsy 'Spencer'. Though I am a closet fan of Phoenix Nights, Kitson's part in this programme by no means does justice to his wonderful performances on stage. Even Peter Kay has acknowledged that Phoenix is the project of which Daniel is least proud. I struggle to understand why he originally accepted the part. I suppose that there is always a difficulty in balancing the need for exposure and the desire to maintain one's integrity, as an artist. Being neither an artist, nor one in possession of much integrity, I feel as if I have very little right to comment. What I can say is that after I saw Daniel Kitson on stage for the first time (The Stand, Edinburgh 2007) I actually started to believe in people again and to believe that comedy could really be a force for good.

Despite his talent, Kitson is still an underrated performer. Perhaps this is how he prefers it. His cult status ensures that for every performance in a quaint back-end venue he will be surrounded only by adoring fans. I, for one, relish the intimacy and ambiance of Daniel's small-scale performances. But somehow I find it unfair that only a very few people will ever accidentally happen upon this gem. I suppose it all boils down to the cult vs mainstream debate. We're so intent on being unique little snowflakes and holding an interest that no one else shares (or very few other people share). We dismiss things that are too popular but we shun things that are too obscure. Laughter is supposed to be a communal experience. What else is comedy for but to make us forget that we exist for a while and convulse in the social ritual of mutual mirth? Though I could never imagine (or condone) 'Kitson at the Albert Hall,' I wish that a everyone had the opportunity to bask in Daniel's celestial glow.