I have always wondered what nostalgia was. Sure, I can look it up in the dictionary any time I want, but what does it actually mean to me? As far as I am concerned, it is the ability to look back fondly on something. Whether it be personal or shared memories that everyone had, like Aberdeen winning the Cup-Winner’s Cup or how the Moon Landings must have felt, we can look back fondly on these events and say, ” I remember that, and it was alright.”

Of course, it’s hard to look back at something that’s right on your shoulder. The 1990s have just finished and by the time this series ends it will be looking back on events of two years ago. How can this work? At this stage that isn’t so much of a problem, as a lot can happen in two years, but later editions could turn into the most pointless piece of TV I have ever seen. We shall see …

I tend not to think that 1991 was “alright”. 1991 was the worst year of my life. Horrible, horrible times I shudder to think back on – you don’t need to know the details. I have few fond memories of 1991, but perhaps this was why I was so keen to see this edition – and to review it here. Perhaps this is a kind of growing, healing process. If I can find some good in here, the dark days of my middle teens may be partly exorcised.

Unfortunately the first item has nothing for me – except confusion. The Chippendales have never really been “my bag” and unless I go through a major lifestyle change (that my wife may not agree to) they probably never will. I see no attraction or enjoyment in watching grown, muscled, oily men jump around on a stage – but then I did once go and see live wrestling. Go figure. I am also confused because to me this was a late ’80s thing. I feel like all my memory has been shunted forward slightly; a feeling I will relive several times tonight. Particularly if there are any Irish soul bands involved.

Right on cue, The Commitments hove into view. I have a friend, who loathes this film with a passion, which I think is a shame. It’s rather nice, although it’s overblown in places. Is it the Irish Gregory’s Girl? Maybe, if that isn’t to poor a comparison. I am surprised to discover, though, that Andrew Strong was only two years older than me at the time. Bloody hell, I must be old. Again, I thought this came out in 1989. Shows how much I know.

I am then confused in a different way. What does ice cream have to do with 1991 in particular? It’s been around for ages. And then some Haagen-Dazs bloke comes on and talks about making ice cream “sexy”. I hated Haagen-Dazs. It had nuts in it and cost a bloody fortune. Give me raspberry ripple any day.

While the next segment on grunge may not be the best in this show, at least we get to hear some Nirvana and have a laugh at Richard and Judy doing a makeover to make people look “grunge”. Hilarious. One of them looked like Alexei Lalas, famous ginger-headed US footballer who once scored against England. With a Davy Crockett hat. I was never into grunge as a whole, but the music was passable. This section tells us nothing particularly new – once a style is assimilated by the mainstream you kill it, be it punk or grunge. However, some good Nirvana clips and an interview with the the cover star of Nevermind make this all worthwhile.

In 1991 Vic Reeves was a God (although his links here are – ahem – “shit, sir”) and the Big Night Out was must-see TV for my peergroup. I won’t pretend I understood what was going on, but it was funny stuff all the same. At least here Vic (or Jim as he is captioned) and Bob are talking sense, and to see Fred Aylward (Les) again is great. What’s interesting to examine is how their act has changed in 10 years. It’s been refined, and mutated into something similar yet utterly different at the same time.

Bloody Right Said Fred! One hit wonders I say. I’m Too Sexy was fun, but after that you began to wonder what the point was. They’re still around as well. I wish they weren’t. I’d rather see more of the Bernard Cribbins video they showed at the start of this slot. What I find amusing is that they describe themselves as “candy floss twats” who were reduced to “waving for a living”. Hey, stick to what you’re good at, that’s what I always say.

I never had a Sega. Or a Nintendo. The best my family had was a Colecovision. We were poor but we were happy. However, that doesn’t mean this whole computer games rivalry passed me by. This was big stuff at school. Hordes of children arguing over which system was best. As any fool will tell you, the Megadrive was king and Sensible Soccer still rules.

I have no interest in “Superstar DJ’s” I also have no idea why this is particularly concerned with 1991. I thought this was a recent phenomenon. Obviously not. What the hell is Piano House? Rozalla? Chrystal Waters? I thought these people were dead. This music is horrible and even though it’s only 10 years old seems to have dated far more than a lot of ’70s and ’80s stuff.

Sex is always worth a cheap giggle, so here we have a quick peek at The Lover’s Guide. And not even a giggle. I have never seen this, or any of the many sequels – or rip-offs. I was 14 in 1991, I couldn’t even buy porn. But that’s not important right now.

So that was 1991. A curious mix of the ridiculous and the actually quite good. It’s still the worst year of my life, but now there is some comfort in that there was some good stuff dotted around. What was strange was how much has changed. Music, fashions, even TV has all altered. 10 years is a long time and you can never go back.

But how I wish I could.

In 1999, Who Wants to be a Millionaire annihilated all comers (anyone remember 2000 to 1?) and indeed in 2000 it remained a strong, strategic element of ITV’s evening schedules. Predictably though, it was unable to captivate audiences or – for that matter – the press in quite the way it once had. This year, the BBC finally got its huge promotional machine in gear as it stumbled upon game shows worth shouting about and went at them with gusto. Happily for the Beeb, a big push in self-promotion was coupled with a big brain within their light entertainment department.

David Young, the BBC’s thirty-something head of the genre, came up with not one, but two hit series – both of which managed to outscore more “prestigious” opposition (that said, he also produced Stars Sing The Beatles). Friends Like These first went out immediately before the “revamped” Red Alert, and whilst the latter managed to be even worse than the first series (arm wrestling and observation rounds on peak time Saturday night!), Friends Like These was a vibrant, youthful and modern alternative. It made ITV’s Saturday opposition look terribly outdated – consisting, as it did, of yet more Blind Date, twice as much Stars in Their Eyes as before, and a Moment of Truth “revised” to such an extent nobody had a clue what it was about. The Weakest Link at times threatened to reach Who Wants to be a Millionaire levels, with a strong format executed perfectly. The interest can’t lie simply with Anne Robinson’s “unique” presentational style, perhaps more to do with the fact that a simple quiz will always have a fascination. It was certainly better value than ITV’s The People Versus, a hugely expensive flop, which tried too hard to be WWTBAM Mk II to the detriment of actually being any fun to watch. Of course, the Beeb did have its own flops in this genre too, with Nick Ross’ The Syndicate (which echoed the woeful Masterteam) something of a crime against game shows. And indeed Nick wins the prize for the worst attempt at establishing a catchphrase in 2000. Understand?

Those who cared to track the progress of the game show genre across BBC and ITV were to witness a microcosm of the increasingly high profile ratings battle that lasted throughout 2000. Funnily enough, each channel seemed at last to address deficiencies that had plagued them for the last decade or so. Whilst the BBC were intent on putting their LightEnt house in order, the other side almost managed to break in and steal BBC1′s sitcom crown straight from the head of The Royle Family.

The Royle Family - another heavily promoted BBC1 programme – degenerated into self-parody this year (introducing that baby was the worst thing ever to happen) as Aherne and company alarmingly took the programme into Carla Lane Bread territory. Elsewhere pre-watershed comedy was, as ever, a no-man’s land. The BBC’s two big mainstream comedy hopes, My Hero and My Family, simply weren’t funny enough (remember those “Look at all the great comedians who work here!” trails at the beginning of year: Ardal O’Hanlon in his My Hero guise, despite the series not having started yet). ITV’s Pay and Display was equally forgettable. Post-watershed was little better, with The Peter Principle and Kiss Me Kate moving to a later slot and suddenly sniggering over homosexuality. The one bright spot – the last series of One Foot in the Grave – was the perfect end to the long-running show, just as memorable and affecting as any of the previous episodes. Over on BBC2, Bruiser and Operation Good Guys, and indeed most attempts at “innovation” were unspeakable. The League of Gentlemen, although arguably not as good as before, was still one of the best things on telly this year – period. Something completely different from the team might be nice, though. The Christmas Special appropriately offered us an insight into a potential future for the League, suggesting that the boys could be entering “difficult third album territory”. Focusing further on the grotesque and horrific they run the risk of alienating much of their fan base. For some this special was a truly shocking and brilliant piece of telly, for others another example of a comedy submitting to that newest of sub-genres: the “Evocom” (we just made that up, by the way).

Surprisingly then, the great new comedy shows of 2000 all sprang from the commercial channels. Bob Martin was a funny, “grown up” sitcom, albeit one that appeared to alienate almost the entire ITV audience, Baddiel and Skinner Unplanned was the most daring commission, and despite a pointless smear campaign by most of the press, presented some hilarious TV moments and exciting television. Channel 4′s main contributions were Black Books: a great sitcom – seemingly alone in not attempting to establish a “mood” or “feel” but just be a funny series, and – of course – Trigger Happy TV. First broadcast on 14 January, its buzz sustained throughout the year (doubtless assisted by the release of the “soundtrack” of the series in December), but we left 2000 wondering how much longer Dom Joly could sustain the concept. Series one worked on the basis that no one knew who the hell he was. The resultant fame has changed all that. Such dilemmas also faced Sacha Baron Cohen who returned to our screens with Da Ali G Show and Chris Morris (who wanted us to taste his jam). Still able to generate column inches and laughs (particularly with the introduction of Borat – a Kazakhstani television reporter) there was an overriding sense though, that Da Ali G Show was pretty ephemeral stuff, as Cohen eschewed much of his phenomenal quick wit in favour of quick and easy thrills. Conversely, jam seemed to be a conscious attempt to create a timeless series – uninfluenced by present popular culture and able to bear repeat viewing. Who would have guessed then, that Ali G would have made the better fist of 2000? jam seemed to be either one massive in-joke on the part of Morris or the spectacle of some supposed genius crashing to Earth. Either way, bereft of humour, this was the year’s most extreme example of all “Evoc” and no “Com”.

A lot of our fun then came out with traditional comedy. Without a doubt the biggest trend in 2000 was that of good old-fashioned nostalgia. The schedules positively groaned under the weight of reminiscence programmes, each of varying quality. I Love the Seventies spread its presence across the summer like a behemoth, each programme eagerly anticipated (much like TOTP used to be), bringing together a motley collection of stars of yesteryear, contemporary pundits and lashings of irony, all glued together with archive clips and pin sharp production. Top Ten meanwhile, wallowed in the luxury of a 90 minute slot, enabling expert dissection on, err, each top 10 single in a given chart, which included love songs, stadium rock and one-hit wonders. ITV’s Smash!, by contrast, was very much an also ran. Shoehorned into an inadequate 30 minute slot, it was hopelessly too short to imbue any depth or breadth into the categories covered. In addition, its “usual suspects” pundit line up of Mike Read and Jamie Theakston lacked the time to go into any detail. In retrospect it really was the level of punditry that determined which nostalgia programme would be a hit and which a miss in the year 2000. Special mention then for Stuart Maconie who completed his metamorphosis from sometime journalist and broadcaster to guardian of the nation’s collective memories with his spot-on “talking head” armchair reminiscences and rapid fire irony. By contrast many other pundits were left gasping for breath as they struggled to keep up. By Christmas time, of course, we were all getting a little sick of all this nostalgia. Did you know that Noddy Holder’s favourite line from his evergreen Yuletide hit is the one about Granny dancing? This particular reminiscence appeared on three different programmes in rapid succession over Christmas. Holder, seemed to be turning up all over the place in 2000. In fact, at times it seemed he might even turn up on your own street. Still, for those who enjoyed the chance to talk about Spangles and Space Hoppers, their time had truly come in 2000 as nostalgia received a positively 21st century makeover.

It was a year of upheaval too for news and documentaries, as both became caught up in the ever-intensifying ratings battle The News at Ten debate droned on for most of the year, reaching farcical proportions with ITV not wanting a 10pm news bulletin but being forced to produce one, whilst the BBC desperately wanted a 10pm news bulletin and – initially – being prevented from doing so. Panorama staggered on in a new graveyard slot, but it only had itself to blame – too many commentators were waiting to see any hints of “dumbing down” and the BBC lacked the nerve to do anything radical with it. The new slot on Sunday nights proved to be a wholly unsatisfactory compromise. A decent current affairs programme in prime time is badly needed – new thinking is required, and fast. Panorama itself may need to go for this to have any effect. It was not a year to be despondent though, as the Beeb produced a number of excellent documentaries – two recent examples being A History of Britain and Changing Stages. ITV too were able to contribute admirably to the medium with the one-off John Pilger documentary earlier this year (Paying the Price: Killing the Children of Iraq). This was an amazing piece of television, if only for the fact that it was made by Carlton, whose other major contribution was to threaten us with the return of Crossroads.

So in 2000, Home and Away departed from our screens – albeit temporarily. It will prove an interesting test of channel versus programme loyalty to track how many people follow it across to Channel 5 when it returns. Elsewhere, this was something of a run of the mill year for soaps. EastEnders loudly celebrated its 15th Birthday, but really it was business as usual. The death of Ethel Skinner provided a brief respite from the cloddish drama that now populates the Square, and there seemed to be the happy realization part way through 2000 that some of the more outrageous EastEnders activities would have to be curtailed in order for the soap to retain some connection with credibility. Over at Coronation Street they didn’t give a toss. Their 40th birthday celebrations were even more raucous and self-indulgent. “Sir” Ken Barlow found himself caught up in some of the soap’s most hackneyed plots ever: one week he was trussed up with bitter enemy Mike Barlow – both innocent victims of the most ludicrous hostage situation ever shown on British television; and the next he was defending the honour of the Street’s cobblestones like a modern day Churchill. The surreal inclusion of Noddy Holder, followed by Barlow’s speechmaking and the subsequent cheering of the cast directly into camera, brought back memories of that great Slade song “Mama Weer All Crazee Now”. Elsewhere, the Redmond soaps ambled inconsistently on – Hollyoaks varied from great to merely watchable on a regular basis, and Brookside showing occasional flickers of promise (the early aftermath of Susannah Morrisey’s death was particularly good) but never amounted to much. All in all (and despite the anniversaries) this was a quiet year for soaps. Something else must have been filling the tabloid column inches.

Although providing some of the best television moments of 2000 (particularly Gwyneth’s unfolding confrontation with Peter), the BBC’s Castaway 2000 was washed away by Channel 4′s Big Brother – not only the most talked about, but also surely the most repeated programme of 2000. Almost four months on from the series’ conclusion, and it still feels like Craig, Nick, Mel and the gang are part of our lives. Whilst inhabitants of the house in Bow and the pods on Taransay might have regularly commented that within their societies little problems became big dramas, they were not a patch on us. Their every move provoked sensational coverage. We have not yet been able to fully understand the Big Brother phenomenon, and our confusion in dealing with it can be seen in the ever changing manner in which the BBC has attempted to turn Castaway into a comparable hit (reaching a low point at the fag-end of the year with the imposition of presenter Julia Bradbury on the island).

Last year’s reflection concluded with the assertion that 1999 had been a year of inactivity. The same could not be said for 2000. A re-energised BBC (under the guidance of Greg Dyke) ended the year looking slightly uncertain about its identity, but producing strong programmes nonetheless. ITV stuck with its tried and tested winners, and really changed little in terms of programming, concentrating instead on tactical scheduling. BBC2 stands now at a crossroad, forced to abandon much of its youth programming (to the obvious delight of Channel 4), but overall, TV was slightly more courageous this year than last. What of 2001? Soaps have fallen out of the ratings stratosphere and can no longer be solely relied upon. Further excursions into “reality television” and nostalgia will doubtless occur over the next 12 months. The continuing proliferation of digital television, plus new ways in which to record and review your favourite programmes will undermine our current duopoly still further and destabilize the terrestrial television environment. Watch as the BBC – ITV battle intensifies, both grateful for the fact that – at least with each other, and for the time being – this is an enemy they know and understand.

In general this series has been of a uniform standard, with no episode lacking anything the rest of the run possessed. However, the flipside to this is that no episode has shone out as being particularly brilliant.

It must be said that the programme has again been extremely well received; at least in the experience of this reviewer. However, as weighted towards Glasgow and its colloquialisms and humour as Chewin’ the Fat undoubtedly is, it is difficult to ascertain what the response has truly been outwith the city where I live. Perhaps in Edinburgh or indeed London, the consensus is different. But that is missing the point; the reviews have been positive in the press, and public opinion seems to be that they want more.

In terms of characters, the old stalwarts were mostly in place. I found many of them, however, to be slightly stale. Ronald Villiers the appalling actor had several noteworthy moments, particularly the “Kwik-Fit” style advert, but there seemed to be an element of re-using old ideas. The Lonely Shopkeeper and the Lighthouse Men are one-joke sketches, so if there is to be a fourth series I would prefer to see them phased out, as I believe them to have run their course. Jack and Victor the old men, and Bish and Bosh the painters are still enjoyable, partly because they are slightly more realistic and have more scope for development.

As for the new inclusions this series, there was an element of hit-and-miss about them. The “ooh, fancy” gag had been trailed in all the tabloid papers as the “new catch phrase” item, but it was disappointing. Yes, your friends may take the mickey for using “big” fancy words, but that in itself is not worth several short sketches.

One thing that was notable was the slightly more “vulgar” approach. A series of sketches about people declaring that their son has just started masturbating (much to the embarrassment of the boy), “wanker” hand signals, spoofs of “gay chat lines”, “Joey Deacon” faces; all marked a more “adult” approach, albeit with a slight playground mentality to it. Don’t get me wrong, much of it was hilarious, but there is the worry that they may go too far if pushed slightly further. Indeed, several friends have remarked to me that they believed it was all too much “smut”, one even commenting that one sketch was “almost child pornography”. Far from it, of course, the sketch was merely about how you can forgive any vandalism or mishap provided it’s carried out by an angelic-faced child. But the thought is there: if some sketches are “risque”, will narrow-minded people read too much into those that are entirely innocent?

So where do the team go now? Well, the rumours have it that they are preparing sitcoms for Ronald Villiers and Jack & Victor. I personally feel that Jack and Victor have more mileage, as proved in the stage show Still Game, which develops the two further. Villiers I feel is too thin a character to sustain a programme on his own. Rab C Nesbitt’s greatest moments were as three minute sketches on Naked Video. We do not need another sketch character fleshed out into a poor sitcom. Scotland has suffered enough.

As for Chewin’ the Fat itself? I believe the wisest move would be to call it a day. This third series was thoroughly enjoyable but it did seem slightly bereft of new ideas, relying too heavily on old favourites trotting out familiar catch phrases. It would be far better to bow out on a high note and concentrate on something new.

And one final note? “Dobber” is still an extremely funny word.

Well, on the surface, perhaps it has slightly. While I cannot argue with the fact that I roared and laughed my way through tonight’s episode, there is an overwhelming feeling that it lacked something. Yes, it was funny, but there was nothing particularly innovative about the whole affair.

Ronald Villiers, the hopeless actor, is still stumbling his way through auditions and adverts, the lighthouse keepers are still grating on each others nerves, and the “Glasgae Banter Boys” are still finding thrills in the sound of an Evening Times salesman. The recurring characters are all in place with no changes (although the “good guy/wank” running joke has been dropped after the stars grew tired of people in the street shouting “wank!” at them), as it should be with old characters. The Fast Show had recurring characters and it was the familiarity with them that drew you back.

However, this is a new series, so some new characters and scenarios are inevitably introduced. How did the new items fare? At this early stage it is difficult to tell. Some worked from the outset, in particular the pathetic “eco-terrorist” who asks a fisherman how he likes being hooked in the mouth before running away (with a cry of “‘mon the fish!”) went down well with this reviewer. Certain ideas seemed to be slightly nervous, as if the team are wary of trying out different concepts for fear they don’t work. Perhaps it’s simply my current unfamiliarity with these innovations which gives me that feeling. Time will tell on that score.

The other criticism I had was the familiarity of some of the new sketches. It seemed to me that that many had been done before in other shows. A football manager on the touchline having his every movement mimicked by his assistant had been done in a slightly different manner by The Fast Show, and the “Invisible Boss” gag, while funny, was even funnier when it first show up in cult ’80s film Amazon Women on the Moon. I would hope that this is a minor lapse and does not indicate a lack of new ideas.

The stars of the show, Ford Kiernan and Greg Hemphill, aided by Karen Dunbar amongst others, have succeeded in crafting a series that taps into a hidden element of Scotland that we find easy to laugh at, mainly because – certainly to a man brought up in Glasgow – it is so familiar. Only another Scotsman would acknowledge that we find humour in the word “dobber”, a “window licker”-type face that could possibly be offensive in the wrong hands, and the “take that line to the bookies” style of marker pen fighting seen in schools throughout the land. Much of the humour is of the juvenile type, but it works because above all else it is funny.

To be fair, while I did have some misgivings, this was the first episode, and so some of the new sketches will surely settle in through the course of the run. I will certainly look at this review again when the series has ended to see if my concerns were unfounded or not. I for one believe that Chewin’ the Fat still has a lot to offer. I just wonder what the English think of it…

But it’s not all cheap rip-off: there’s a genuine star in the shape of cuddly Eric Knowles, antiques man extraordinaire. More importantly, there’s a subtle twist to this show – rather than showing old codgers trying to find out how much their stuff is worth so they can flog it, the old codgers here are concerned with which members of their inheritance-grabbing family are going to benefit from them after their death.

So, every week Knowles pops round for a look at some old dear’s things, telling them how much the stuff is worth, and then he helps them decide who should inherit what.

This week’s debut episode featured Connie, recently widowed and with three older daughters. The fun involved the fact that one of the daughters, Charlotte, was 20 years her sisters’ junior. So, there was resentment towards her from Maureen and Vivian, the older two. “She’s my parent’s daughter, not my sister.”, said one in what had to be the most callous moment of television I’ve seen in quite a while. Clearly this show was going to be fun. The younger daughter, Charlotte, talked her corner well, pointing out that she visited her mother regularly, unlike the other two who clearly couldn’t give a toss (beyond an interest in what she was worth). Charlotte clearly was after cash too, and the fun was obviously going to be in seeing what they got and what they thought of it.

So after some short snippets of Knowles looking at plates and jugs, sofas and suchlike – and some sound bites from Connie stating that she thought her daughters believed they would inherit thousands from the sale of the house (which she clearly believed was untrue) – everything was in place for the final confrontation. Knowles had sat down with a notepad, cup of tea and slice of cake, and helped poor Connie, who looked more and more uncomfortable in facing up to the inevitability of her own death, divide up the spoils. This, however, is where it got disappointing. All ready for a big showdown, Connie dished out a few trinkets, told them she’d decide about the rest later, and then announced the sale of the house would pay for her to enjoy a world cruise. Her daughters moaned a little ungraciously and generally looked unhappy with their spoils, but the expected fireworks never really ignited. All were too wary of upsetting their mother, and Connie was clearly uncomfortable about the whole episode once it reached the “dirty” part.

You Can’t Take It With You could well be fun for all the wrong reasons (squabbling families arguing over heirlooms) but everyone was rather too polite about the whole thing. Knowles only picked out a few little things, as was shown in long shots when you saw rooms full of trinkets and collectables. Connie and her husband were described as avid collectors, but still only half a dozen items at best were shared out.

Alongside C5′s equally prickly House Doctor, You Can’t Take It With You certainly merits repeated viewing, but it does depend heavily on the families featured – too nice and it’s all too friendly. If C5 can dig deep enough and turn up a bit of family feuding, then this will deserve a long, repeated run.