Tim Vine – comic, singer, actor, punster – is in his antiques shop. “Oh look, a small blue garden bird made of mahogany,” he says, picking up just such an object. “Be great if I had a related joke … wouldn’t it?” Wooden tit, see? Quite good.
And so Comedy Playhouse: Tim Vine Travels in Time (BBC1) continues. An unusual hanging timepiece shaped like a footballer is a Theo Wallclock. A joke about a door has a lot hinging on it. There are meandering maltesers, which are a bit like wandering minstrels. He doesn’t see his friend Lance a lot any more … Tim has his double-barrel pun gun out and he’s on a spree, spraying them about at will.
Now I enjoy a good groan as much as anyone else, but the sheer scale of the punnery here is overwhelming. Shoot me Tim; it would be a relief. Because now I’m feeling like a foie gras goose and Tim is the cruel French farmer – he’s got me by the neck and he’s forcing puns into me. Gavage, I believe it’s called, and I’m gagging on gags … and now it’s catching.
At least the programme is self-aware, seemingly expecting groans as often as laughs. There’s an element of self-deprecation, too. “Honestly, who wrote this?” Tim says. And “I hope I’m doing the right thing: it was either this or The Jump.” (“What was wrong with The Jump?” yells the world.)
There is a kind of Bill and Ted premise – Tim’s excellent adventure. Using his time-travelling grandfather clock, he has gone back to Sherwood Forest, where Robin Hood (presenter and Strictly champion Ore Oduba) has lost his aim, and the heart of Maid Marian (Sally Phillips) … no it doesn’t really matter, it’s really just a string on which to thread the puns.
“I will play you like a medieval stringed instrument.”
“Are you calling me a lyre?”
“My father’s pigs are poorly, they’ve lost their voices.”
“They sound disgruntled.”
I quite like that one actually. But after half an hour I’m exhausted, and feeling utterly pun-ished.
