“And now for something completely different”, that familiar phrase from Monty Python’s Flying Circus would not have been the first thing to spring to viewers’ minds as they tuned in to watch ex-Python Terry Jones discuss his career in BBC2′s new offering, Turn Back Time.

Hosted by Dara O’Briain, the show delves back into the past of a celebrity guest, prompting them to discuss their regrets and what they would change given the possibility. It’s a format that has more than a faint whiff of familiarity, basically an amalgam of chat show, Room 101 and TV Heaven, Telly Hell – itself an obvious variation of the former. O’Briain, who has become a more regular face on television this side of the water, comes across as quite an amiable host, not dominating proceedings and amusing enough within the constraints of the show.

Most of the questions are another excuse for the BBC to drag out familiar clips that are, for the most part, not unfamiliar to audiences. As with Room 101 there is also a handful of pre-scripted prop assisted gags – although not a coconut in sight surprisingly – and it is in these moments that O’Briain comes across as a bit uncomfortable.

The regrets of Jones were hardly Earth shattering or particularly revelatory either, amounting to little more than wishing he had learnt the lines to the spam sketch.

Having said that, there were some interesting moments, such as Jones revealing details of a never filmed scene from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, some brief historical chin waging about the Vandals (a plug for his current book, really) and the debates with the film censors over swear words. This was summed up at the end when both host and guest unleashed a bombardment of naughty words over the show’s closing credits. How times have changed eh?

The most affecting moment was the screening of 8mm footage of a short film the young Jones had made with his father; a slightly surreal comic affair involving animated garden chairs. Alas any attempt to delve below the surface and find out more about his relationship with his parent, and possible insight into the beginnings of his particular comic style, were ignored. It wasn’t helped by the fact the audience didn’t seem to know how to react. Was this a serious interview or a light-hearted chat? This was highlighted early on when, after Jones revealed that seeing the footage had made him rather emotional as he hadn’t seen his father since 1971, the audience’s titters trailed off.

Whilst certainly not the worst way to waste 30 minutes, the rather derivative format means this isn’t a show that will create viewer loyalty, being one of those “there’s nothing else on” options. Crucially it will be the calibre of guests – future interviewees include Johnny Vegas, Ruby Wax and Vic Reeves – that will entice the casual viewer rather than make Turn Back Time must see telly.

First the bad news. This is yet another episode set on Earth, established with a pre-credits 18th century set-up. But scriptwriter Steven Moffat (“The Empty Child” and “The Doctor Dances”) gives it a unique spin with the Doctor, Rose and new companion Mickey finding themselves on an apparently abandoned spaceship in the 51st century. But what on Earth is an 18th century French fireplace doing on board? And what do a gang of clockwork robots find so important about Louis XV’s mistress, Madame de Pompadour?

Following on from last week’s events, this episode was somewhat of a thematic companion piece. The very real emotional dilemma for the Doctor, namely that his companions will age and die while he will live on, is given explicit example in his relationship with Reinette, the future Madame de Pompadour and prey of the mechanical crew of a vessel 3000 years hence. Echoing the central conceit of Audrey Niffenegger’s novel, The Time Traveller’s Wife, Moffat portrays an accelerated example of what life is like for the Doctor. The viewer gets the chance to see things from his perspective as Reinette ages from girl to adulthood before our eyes. But unlike “School Reunion”, which had a rather thin bog-standard plot that was marginalised in favour of character interaction, “The Girl in the Fireplace” blends a reassuringly mysterious narrative with a more poignant personal journey for both the Doctor and Reinette.

Both Tennant and Sophia Myles, in the role of Reinette, bring a realism to their very on/off relationship. Even if the Doctor is shaping up to be a space stud of Captain Kirk-like proportions, there is a more touching element to this duo’s romance. A romance that doesn’t have the viewer reaching for the sick bucket as they do whenever the Doctor and Rose engage in what appears to be a mutual appreciation society meeting. Myles invests Reinette with both intelligence and a playful flirtatious wit. It’s not hard to see why the time traveller is attracted to her. Indeed, he appears to forget all about Rose, happy to face the possibility of being trapped in 18th century France if it means saving Reinette’s life.

But there is also, amidst this doomed love affair, time for creepy clockwork robots to tick and tock ominously in their quest for the brain of Reinette. These clockwork contraptions, while maybe not as scary as they could be, are a decent enough villain with a macabre modus operandi that is uncovered by Rose and Mickey aboard the ship.

With so much of the plot refreshingly centring on the Doctor, it’s inevitable the duo get slightly sidelined. But when the plot does focus on them, it adds a new dimension to the series, a welcome respite from the Rose and Doctor relationship which has made for slightly uncomfortable viewing. Mickey, who has been somewhat ill-treated by the scripts so far, comes across as far more likeable here and gives Rose someone to go exploring with while the Doctor does some of his own. Ahem. It also allows for a bit of good old-fashioned companions-in-peril-business, as the Time Lord arrives in the traditional nick-of-time to save the day, with a playful, eccentric edge that is fast developing into a trademark of Tennant’s performance. It is to his credit he can balance both the serious and humorous elements of the Doctor’s character in a far less forced way than his predecessor, and he’s shaping up to be the best since Peter Davison.

Of course, as Auntie Beeb is a dab hand at period dramas, everything looks suitably sumptuous, with the elegance of mid 1700s French aristocracy a feast for the eye. What could be a rather confusing and jarring switch between the centuries is well-realised, thanks to Euros Lyn’s direction. As in “Tooth and Claw”, he gives proceedings a dynamic edge, able to handle the adventure elements as well as quieter character moments.

For a tale which focuses on time, the sense that time is against our heroes is ever-present. Although, as with most episodes, a longer episode length may have allowed for greater tension and plot depth, things don’t feel as rushed here as they have done before. Everything is neatly tied up in the finale which gives the Doctor a rare moment for quiet reflection. And there is a fun final beat which reveals the reason why Reinette was so important to the clockwork robots’ plans.

While it would be nice for the Doctor to travel a bit further a field, “The Girl in the Fireplace” is a well-balanced episode, bringing together strong emotional character moments for the Doctor, and an entertaining mystery to create a wholly enjoyable adventure. Even those who find the idea of the character as a romantic figure somewhat unpalatable would fail to be drawn in by this episode. You even get to see him come to the rescue on a white steed.

But if you didn’t enjoy it, well, the Cybermen are back next week.

Fronted by the “Anne Droid” herself – for some reason a favourite amongst the powers that be at the Beeb – and co-hosted by Marcus Brigstocke, it is a pretty directionless affair with the writers attempting to shoehorn into its 30-minute running time anything that springs to mind. First appearances aren’t encouraging as even the layout of the set is a disaster, with the co-hosts placed acres apart, having to shout their witticisms at each other. Maybe they don’t like each other: they hardly seem the natural choice for presenters and there isn’t exactly a sparkling chemistry between them. Robinson’s demeanour comes across as spiteful rather than satirical; there is no wit in her jibes at those in the spotlight, in particular Cherie Blair who she appears to have a vendetta against. On the other hand Brigstocke seems to be a more apt choice, but is reduced to trying to make second-hand satire sound interesting and fresh. He can be an entertaining comedian but has yet to be found a suitable format by the BBC, with many of the shortcomings of this show reminiscent of his previous frontman effort, The Late Edition.

Swipes are taken at arbitrary high profile individuals, supposedly from the week’s news, but it appears anything will do if the researchers have found a done-the-rounds photo of a celebrity for the hosts to poke fun at. Has anyone not seen Cherie Blair singing When I’m 64 yet? All this kind of stuff really just elicits a sense of déjà vu; it’s been done with greater skill by numerous satirical programmes, to which this show adds nothing. Indeed, it says a lot about the show when its funniest moment is a clip from another series – BBC 1′s No Win, No Fee. Alas, this sequence also acts as the springboard for a tired sketch in which Brigstocke lampoons insurance claims adverts. Hardly cutting edge.

In between this slapdash set-up is Robinson conducting her interviews. Or, as in the case of the hapless second guest (a French chef from one of ITV1′s many reality/celebrity shows), a toe-curling display of flirtation. These interviews feel stilted and over rehearsed, but with them only lasting a few minutes, there is no time for incisive questioning or illuminating insight. Brigstocke makes the odd interjection from his lofty perch, but all this means is the guests are forever craning their necks round. As for the celebs themselves, well the selection was a tad arbitrary, with the aforementioned chef sandwiched between Colleen Nolan and George Galloway. There was no real point to any of these interviews, and one of the many ways the show could improve would be by cutting down on the number of guests. Three in a half an hour is too much.

With its scattergun approach to satire What’s the Problem? with Anne Robinson is a rather haphazard and pointless proposition. It tries to encompass so much that there is a real sense of desperation in the material, as though the writers believe if they have enough targets to shoot at some of them must work. The result just leaves the viewer confused as to what the show is trying to be. It may very well settle down and find its direction after a couple of episodes, but on the evidence of this opening edition, a second series does not seem likely.

Grange Hill – complete with that iconic image of a cartoon sausage on a fork flying across the screen as the classic theme chugs along – is fondly remembered by those of a certain age, and the mid-’80s period is seen by many as the golden era. So what could be better than wallowing in an hour’s worth of nostalgia about the Just Say No days of Zammo and co, courtesy of this programme, oddly named Bring Back Grange Hill. An attempt to reunite the stars for a reunion performance of the anti-drugs anthem at a School Disco event in Hammersmith Palais, the show was potentially a great evening’s entertainment let down by both format and host.

Rather than simply get the cast back together and have them all reminiscing about the good old days (as in the Dale Winton-fronted Stars Reunited), Channel 4 decided to take a different approach. Host Justin Lee Collins, one in an ever-growing number of annoying would be comedians-cum-presenters, was, for some undisclosed reason, given just 10 days to track down the actors and get them on stage. This was conducted as if they were fugitives from the law, or members of the witness protection programme, rather than one-time child thespians now living normal lives like the rest of us. Far too much of the programme’s time was spent with Collins and crew hiding in cars, sending researchers into key cutting shops and sitting around in hotels. This approach only became interesting when George Christopher (Ziggy Greaves) demanded a discussion as to his possible involvement over a pint. Alas we didn’t get to see the ensuing chat, perhaps because he’d had second thoughts and was demanding a rise in his pre-agreed fee.

When the programme eventually decided to give airtime to the cast waxing lyrical about their internment at Grange Hill, it was quite entertaining. Lee MacDonald (Zammo Maquire) came across well, seemingly unaffected by his youthful fame and quite happy to talk about the old days. There were some interesting revelations, such as the fact that the Just Say No anthem was originally an American phenomena and, of course, the obligatory shocking expose – from Mmoloki Chrystie (Kevin Baylon) on moody video footage in some kind of Grange Hill-gate-style whistle-blowing – that they didn’t exactly say “no” when touring the States. Erkan Mustafa was on hand to talk about the correct pronunciation of “Row-Land” and also gave the amusing final word on the whole event: “Some people who I’ve seen tonight … its been nice seein’ you, but let’s leave it another 18 years.”

At least, unlike in most shows with a nostalgic bent, there weren’t a plethora of C-list celebrities on hand to give us their unwanted opinions on the show, just a presenter enamoured with his own voice who seemed to think what the viewer wanted was endless footage of himself giving bland commentary whilst waiting for the next cast member to arrive as per the agreed schedule. To further exacerbate the thirtysomething viewer, at the climax of the show from out of nowhere came a handful of other ex-Hillites, most notably Gripper. Why on Earth these people weren’t interviewed is anyone’s guess.

There certainly is a great show to be made about the 1986 Grange Hill gang, but this wasn’t it. Justin Lee Collins should at the very least expect a detention for his part, and if this review were a school report the verdict would be a sternly written “must do better” in red ink and double underlined.

The porn – sorry – adult entertainment industry is now a multimillion-dollar business and has undergone an image overhaul in the last few years as it aims for mainstream appeal. Helped by the success of films such as Boogie Nights, it now portrays itself as respectable entertainment for mature audiences. So what better time for Channel 4 to start a season of industry exposés under the moniker “Dark Side of Porn”? The first programme in the series, Porn Shutdown, deals with the temporary closure of movie production following an HIV scare, which rocked the industry in 2004.

Starting with a brief beginner’s guide to the home of adult filmmaking, the San Fernando Valley (or “Pornoland” as it is constantly referred to throughout), the programme offers a fairly incisive look at the repercussions and reaction to the news porn star Darren James has been infected with HIV after returning from Brazil. A fair amount of screen time is devoted to a Medical Healthcare Foundation set up by former porn star Dr Sharon Mitchell, AIM, which is completely autonomous and free from the prejudices and intervention of the authorities. Throughout, she comes across as pretty straightforward, intelligent and honest about the world in which she works, and, in turn, it seems the industry values her contribution.

Of course no documentary about pornography can be seen to show it in a positive light, so the inclusion of a young innocent woman corrupted and abused by the adult entertainment world was quickly rolled out. Here we were introduced to Laura Foxx, a naïve Canadian who was, on her first film, the unfortunate performer who discovered she’d been infected by James. Although she was not the only one to be tested, the hook of the documentary rests on whether or not she’s going to develop full-blown AIDS, a question that remains unresolved until the final minutes, as Porn Shutdown takes a detour to explore the more underground side of the business.

The world of so-called “gonzo porn” is not, as its name suggests concerned with those who are turned on by Muppet-on-Muppet action, but instead conforms to the stereotypical view of the genre held by the average viewer; misogynistic, violent and degrading. Filmmakers Max Hardcore and Ron Black are introduced and given free range to explain their product and outlaw status from the more respectable condom-wearing community. The programme is non-judgemental of its subjects, but some of them don’t exactly do themselves any favours. However, the inclusion of actual footage here seems unnecessary. Being told by the filmmakers about the action in such films as Cockhounds is surely enough, without having to see an excerpt. But then, would the programme get viewers if there wasn’t the promise of a little bit of flesh?

Juxtaposing this disturbing tone is the narration, which adds some perhaps unintended laughs as Christopher Eccleston lends an authoritative, unemotional tone to proceedings. He begins with dialogue reminiscent of the speech he gave Rose in the opening episode of Doctor Who, but instead of discussing the facts and figures of the Earth’s rotation, he provides similar mind-boggling numerical date about the sex industry: “[Every year] 400 porn films are shot here … more than 1000 porn stars … have sex up to 40 times a month (and) 60 gallons of semen are ejaculated for the cameras.” It would also appear the voiceover has been written with an alien audience in mind, as Eccleston helpfully explains to us, in his northern deadpan drawl, “booty … means ‘anus’.”

Overall, Porn Shutdown is an interesting documentary and despite the obligatory naughty footage, it is a far less sensationalist programme than expected. However, the biggest flaw is the suspiciously absent Darren James. Certainly it would have been the norm to have some onscreen text explaining his non-involvement, but there is no explanation for why he does not appear, or indeed what’s become of him. For all the viewer knows, he could be dead or – more scarily – still working somewhere in Pornoworld. But to its credit, the show genuinely attempts to bring to the screen a part of the sex industry that has not been seen before, and the strict self-imposed medical regulations established by Dr Mitchell’s clinic. The fact the virus was detected and film production stopped whilst anxious performers awaited test results, is a validation of what she has set up.

Whilst at times undeniably hard-hitting, the programme is balanced by that commentary. Where else do you get to hear a Time Lord saying “split that booty”? Although, with the current tone of the evolving relationship between Rose and the Doctor, more of the same may be on its way soon.