Rob Brydon

Did you believe all the tall tales? More fool you

Today being the day after April Fool's Day, it now seems safe to report that Scotland really may be the launch pad for the space tourists of tomorrow; that police in Cornwall really did question a 13-year-old schoolboy on suspicion of common assault after he threw a marshmallow at a fellow pupil; and that, much to the chagrin of local residents, there really is a bakery in the Bedfordshire village of Henlow called "Nice Baps". Readers familiar with the newspaper tradition of inserting an outrageous, fake story into the 1 April edition could be forgiven for having believed otherwise.

The Armstrong & Miller Show Live, Hippodrome, Bristol

I can't recall yet seeing a stage show derived from a TV series that has ever been a wholly satisfactory venture, though perhaps, like the pile of Armstrong & Miller merchandise on offer tonight, a live arm is deemed a necessary accoutrement to a brand, as much as it is an exercise in going back to one's original roots.

Pandora: Blumenthal's follow-up gets a run for its money

Time for the latest chapter in the rolling drama of Heston Blumenthal and his ill-fated dealings with Little Chef. Not long ago, the chemically-minded supercook undertook the considerable task of revamping the roadside restaurant's reputation, which had been battered from years of microwavable macaroni cheese.

Flight of the Conchords: Slackers turn high-flyers

This Sunday, the UKTV channel Gold will be screening a 30th-anniversary Fawlty Towers reunion documentary, featuring all of the main cast, including, uniquely for such an exercise, Connie Booth. Here lie revealed the inner workings of a show that exorcised John Cleese's comic demons while inspiring six hours of the tightest, most well-worked farce ever made for television. Brilliant but slightly exhausting – something that might also be said of Reggie Perrin – the disinterred and retooled David Nobbs sitcom whose origins are now also well over three decades old.

Rob Brydon, Hexagon, Reading

When Rob Brydon's support act, Hal Cruttenden, announces himself, there's the customary puzzlement from the section of the audience that didn't realise there was a warm-up. When Brydon announces himself, after the interval, there seemed to be a smaller group that hadn't realised that this was the Welshman unmasked, and not appearing as Keith Barret from Marion and Geoff, nor even doing more than a brief refrain of Uncle Bryn from Gavin and Stacey. No, this was Rob Brydon of hit and hope. Anyone disappointed by this realisation would have it reinforced by the end of the show and join me in my personal disappointment at what was a rather hotchpotch effort from a comic of great poise and skill.

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