Finding their niche

Until that advert with the trumpeter from the Bond films finally convinces me the Sky Arts Pack is worth throwing my money down the drain for, I'll get my brainy TV from BBC4, thank you very much.

And I've been enjoying Tuesday night 70s and 80s nostalgia-fest Electric Dreams far more than anticipated (the plan to stay aloof, slightly condescending, and not be tempted to yell WE HAD ONE OF THOSE!! didn't last two minutes). The first week, I didn't catch the name of the shaggy-haired helper fine-tuning all the antiquated gadgets and helping the family with their adjustment to retro living. Last night I realised it was Edinburgh Award nominee Tom Wrigglesworth.

Well, we've all got to make a living somehow. But the more I learn about the stand ups who made this year's Edinburgh Awards shortlist (Wrigglesworth, John Bishop, Russell Kane and Idiots of Ants), the less winner Tim Key appeals.

After Electric Dreams there was the surely-adapted-from-radio-and-dear-me-it-should-have-stayed-there It's Only a Theory, only made watchable in the least by the superior presence of Reginald D Hunter.

Made on a budget of about 50p (a visual gag about a bumper crossword book turned out to clearly be three taped together phone books, leaving me wincing for my beloved Reg), this show - part Dave Gorman's Genius without the sense of fun, part Moral Maze without any sense of gravitas - which the usually funny Andy Hamilton just couldn't carry without apologising to some imagined affronted viewer every five minutes and rendered inexplicable guest team member Claire Balding completely inane, didn't work at all.

I'll keep watching as a weekly dose of Reg is no bad thing. But I won't like myself.