Little Britain (BBC1)

The Worst Week of My Life (BBC1)

YOU knew they were wearing fat suits, but there was still something gross about it. Rubber they may have been, but the sight of rolls of skin bouncing around as they wrestled to the floor would have challenged even a sumo fan's constitution.

It was either the best cat-fight since Krystle caught Alexis stealing her shoulder pads in Dynasty, or the sort of thing that should really only be available to those prepared to spend hours searching the internet, but whichever way you look at it, Little Britain was back with a bang.

It's already given us a host of familiar characters and catchphrases: "Yeah but no but" chav Vicky Pollard, Emily "I'm a lady", Andy "I want that one", but if anyone thought Matt Lucas and David Walliams had exhausted their sick imaginations, they should think again.

Enter Desiree Devere, new wife of Roman, and even bigger than his previous wife, Bubbles. It's when the two women clock each other's cellulite over breakfast at the health club that the aforementioned tussle erupts, sending the Special K flying.

Last night also saw the introduction of Tory MP Sir Norman Fry, not averse to kissing his children when confronted with being caught in a compromising position in his car. "I was just getting a Murray mint" seems destined to become as popular a euphemism as badger watching became, thanks to former Cabinet minister and nocturnal walker Ron Davies.

Lucas and Walliams have always been bordering on the outer fringes of good taste, to put it generously, but even committed fans may find Mrs Emery a step too far. She is the old woman who seems oblivious to the fact that her bladder control fails at awkward moments.

BBC1's comedy hour, or hour and a half if you count EastEnders, was completed by a new series of The Worst Week of My Life. Having barely survived the build up to their wedding, Howard and wife Mel are now expecting their first baby, which they've decided to combine with moving house and Mel's grandmother's funeral.

If you like your jokes signposted so far in advance you'd need the Hubble telescope to spot them coming, and Some Mothers Do 'Ave 'Em doesn't remind you of nails scraping down a blackboard, you'll probably enjoy this piece of slapstick, and at least you won't have to put up with something that should really be confined to the darker recesses of the worldwide web.