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A Little Light Relief
Red Nose Day sceptic Holly Falconer puts herself through eight hours of the annual charity-a-thon and asks, 'Are the jokes any good?'
Call me old-fashioned, but I like my comedy served funny. Not medium-giggle, or rare-smirk, but well done-hilarious. So when I switch on Comic Relief, I expect it to do what it says on the tin. But it doesn't always, does it?
It's okay, you can think this, nobody else can hear you agree. The girl on the computer opposite who got 20 people to sponsor her to dye her hair blue can't hear. Nor can the man who you passed in the street wearing a clown outfit. Let this be the one time you let yourself say it. Just between you, me and the computer screen: Comic Relief isn't always that comic.
There's no denying the money (£40,236,142 this year and counting) is a good thing. Not only do you help needy causes, you get to cleanse your soul of guilt for one more year. It's like paying for confession from the comfort of your own sofa. Year after year I've cried at the African children/disabled Mums/old ladies-with no-transport-bits, then switched channel at the comedy sections because they were always a bit like a pantomime: unrehearsed and only thrilling when a famous person did something silly.
So, when I heard that this year's televised shenanigans were labelled The Big One, I decided it was time to watch the entire thing. I had to definitively test if I'd been wrong. Maybe I'd popped out to make a cuppa at just the wrong moments in previous years. After all, if I'd only seen Pete Doherty's attempts in Live Aid, I would have written off the entire event. So for the sake of our beloved SSP readers, I did what very few people have ever probably bothered to do before, and watched Comic Relief for the full eight hours.
7pm
Who should appear first but ITV's "last bastion of good comedy", Harry Hill. Aside from the usual jibes at the soaps, the best moment here is Harry beating up Mr Blobby in Dot from Eastenders' kitchen. I have to begrudgingly admit, it's a good start.
8pm
Following a bit of Fame Academy, on comes Lauren from Catherine Tate's 'am I bovvered?' sketch. She's the mouthy pupil to David Tennant's Shakespeare-loving English teacher. Of course, Lauren frustrates her teacher with a lot of "Amst I bovvered, forsooth?", before wowing him with some secret sonnet knowledge. After she spits her verse at him, she sees right through his teacherly guise to reveal his true identity as "the doctor" - the first truly dull moment dressed up as humour. But I'll let this one pass, as I'm sure all the 14-year-olds out there loved this.
Recordings of Little Britain Live are also generally uninspiring. The Dennis Waterman sketch translates well to the stage with life-sized objects becoming surreally large as Lucas passes them to Walliams. The real (not so small) Waterman appearing onstage is also a clever moment, but the magic collapses when he starts to sing.
8.45pm
Creature Comforts – A one-off American edition, with Yankee couples speaking through Aardman's creations. Okay, yes – I'm laughing now.
9pm
Daniel Craig plays a man in love with Catherine Tate's character Elaine Figgis, but she won't accept his affections, or even that he's a famous actor. Craig is completely believable – mums all over the country are having a post-dinner swoon – and yes, I'm giggling once more.
9.20pm
Sting's on the Vicar of Dibley, the usual: vicar in lust, naked villagers etc. It's all a bit: "Ooh look, it's Sting on the telly!"
9.30pm
Peter Kay as his Phoenix Nights character Brian Potter and Matt Lucas as Andy "I want that one". Absolutely dire. If I was in a wheelchair I'd find the fact that two wheelchair-bound characters 'happen' to be in the same scene offensive. Especially as they're singing The Proclaimers' 'I Would Walk Five Hundred Miles'. They replace "walk" with "row", but still, this is still shocking, self-indulgent tripe.
10pm
Top Gear takes on the Top of the Pops Formula. One for the dads.
10.40pm
Tony Blair meets Catherine Tate. As Russell Brand points out later on; Dear God Tony can act well.
10.45pm
Ricky Gervais does Comic Relief and nails it. In his sketch, Stephen Merchant and charity superstars Bono and Geldof fake a charitable trip to Africa in a studio, plugging their music and DVDs along the way. Even Andy Peters is in on the game, playing the impoverished African. Corporate companies who shamelessly promote themselves throughout the evening must be wincing.
But then comes another low:
Fearne Cotton makes an earnest plea for money, which turns into another awkward moment on the scale of the wheelchair abusers. According to gratingly chirpy Fearne, it doesn't matter if you're sitting on the sofa with your lover or your same-sex lover, they're not judging. Just donate some dosh, she begs.
11pm
The Comic Relief Apprentice. Alistair Campbell and Piers Morgan lynching each other. Will fuel clip shows for years.
12.10am
Borat, interviewed by Graham Norton. Norton goes along with it all - very witty.
12.40pm
Mitchell and Webb, repeat after me: You are only funny in Peep Show. Nobody really likes your new material, and your Mac ads are sickening. Here they do their snooker presenter characters. Yawn.
1.50am
God bless Noel Fielding and Julian Barratt, who save the day, gorilla in tow.
2.30am
Mitchell and Webb's Numberwang. Moving on.
2.50am
The night finishes on a high, with some Time Trumpet-esque sketches looking back on the history of Comic Relief.
You read until this point to find out if Kate Moss' Little Britain moment was funny, didn't you? Of course it wasn't. Yet even I must concede that apart from a few comedy crimes and idiotic presenters, tonight was a success. Well worth the money I donated towards a new toilet in Tanzania.
