Brooklyn Nine-Nine
I love every character and every aspect of Brooklyn Nine-Nine. There isn’t a weak link in the cast and they work together as seamlessly and apparently joyfully as you could wish.
The jokes come thick and fast, the tone is perfectly pitched, the occasional emotional moment well done, and it rarely strikes a false note. You can watch it again and again and be delighted every time. All this, and Doug Judy too. I love it. It gives me respite from all cares and woes from the moment the cold opens begin to the neat resolution 22 minutes later. Nine-nine! Lucy Mangan
Absolutely Fabulous
On her podcast Good Hang, Amy Poehler talks about how the physical act of laughing can make you feel less hopeless. Watching Jennifer Saunders and Joanna Lumley, smashed on Bolly and falling out of cars, is my port in an emotional storm. Absolutely Fabulous may not be soft and cosy (I’d argue that its humour only seems more vicious with time) but I know almost every line off by heart. Re-reading a much-loved book is soothing because you know what’s going to happen next but, for me, it’s the zingers in Ab Fab. Oh, you little bitch troll from hell … Rebecca Nicholson
I’m Alan Partridge
How many times have I watched the first, majestic series of I’m Alan Partridge? Enough to have left me helpless in the presence of big plates and farmers; enough certainly to have instilled a seemingly deathless yearning to dismantle a Corby trouser press. The familiarity of each re-(re-re-) watch brings more comfort than I can say; every indignity (Alan concussed by a dead cow), every crushing self-humiliation (“Can I just shock you? I like wine”) a synaptic (peephole) Pringle of joy. Aha! Sarah Dempster
The Good Place
Mike Schur consistently pulls off a brilliant trick: creating comedy dramas that manage to be clever and adventurous while also feeling as indulgent and comfortable as a blanket and a mug of hot chocolate. This gift reached its apotheosis in this snarky yet redemptive afterlife epic. The Good Place is a dizzyingly inventive journey through the history of human belief systems which never forgets the things that make life worth living – love, laughter, friendship and hopefulness. And the chemistry between the leading quintet of actors is so cheerful and effortless that it feels like hanging out with a bunch of mates without leaving your sofa. Phil Harrison
University Challenge
I know it may seem nonsensical – and that it probably leads lots of (most?) viewers to feel lowbrow – but the deep sense of joy I get from University Challenge knows no bounds. On Monday nights, I settle in to watch the great minds of tomorrow do their thing, show off their genius, and I am always left feeling that we may not be entirely stuffed as a society. I laugh when I don’t understand the questions (every single maths starter) and I love it when I know answers that they don’t (pretty much any question about pop music or literature by women). These days, my daughter cheers when I get questions right. I’ll cheer so much harder the first time she gets one. Kate Abbott
Great News
Great News, on Netflix, is something I could happily watch on a loop for the rest of my life. An absurdist Tina Fey-produced cable news sitcom, it contains at least two of the finest comedy performances you will ever see. Andrea Martin is breathlessly full-tilt as a retirement-age intern, while John Michael Higgins’s anchor Chuck Pierce is a blowhard for the ages. It should be too broad to work, but every episode is so packed with every imaginable style of joke that it flies. Every time I watch Great News, I get angry that there were only ever 23 episodes made. After a couple of months the anger subsides and I go back to the start again. Stuart Heritage
Frasier
Perhaps it’s the memory of my mum laughing away on a Friday night, glass of red wine in hand, at the farcical antics of these two buffoonish intellectuals, Frasier and Niles Crane. But this sitcom always banishes the callin’ blues. From Frasier’s great injustices and ego trips (who can forget the symphony he wrote for his radio show jingle?) to Niles’s descriptions of absent wife Maris (“I tried to follow her tracks in the snow but, alas, she made none”) and endless misunderstandings that land them in trouble (the Halloween episode where Niles thinks Daphne is pregnant is a hoot), it cracks me up every single time. More tender moments between the brothers and their ex-cop father Marty – who has no time for their snobby ways – give the show a big heart, too. Just look at the pause-for-thought scene were Frasier tries to get rid of Marty’s chair. The jazzy theme tune that I must sing loudly to. The log fire in that dreamy Seattle penthouse. The coffee shop. Eddie the dog … Thank God there are 264 episodes. Hollie Richardson
Jamie Oliver
I’ve used cookery programmes as a pacifier all my life, so enthusiastically they’re the reason why four of my daughter’s first words were Jamie, Nigella and Mary Berry. Jamie Oliver, though, is the 15-tog duvet of TV chefs. I would watch him cook anything – yes, even curry in an air fryer. Seeing this middle-aged, mega-rich white man tug aubergines from the aspirational gardens of his rural Essex mansion, carry them to his rustic-chic barn conversion, then “hero” them in a dukkah roast chicken is the equivalent for me of a guided meditation. I can’t get enough of his knife skills. Every time he says “epic” I feel my heart rate slowing. And don’t get me started on my love for Conker, his dog. Chitra Ramaswamy
RuPaul’s Drag Race UK
It is no coincidence that I started watching RuPaul’s Drag Race UK in 2020, when cozy viewing felt imperative. Since then, it’s become my go-to for lazy Sundays, sick days and cold winter evenings – an easy pop of feelgood fun. The repetition – mini-challenge, maxi-challenge, runway, lip sync “for your life!” – feels reassuring; the baffling catchphrases (“She done already done had herses!”) oddly soothing. And, amid a fair amount of shade-throwing, there’s always a smattering of touching backstories, an underdog to root for and makeup to die for. Leah Harper
Virgin River
It is a central pillar of Netflix lore: city woman (in this case nurse Mel) moves to a rural town and meets an impossibly handsome local (bar owner and former marine Jack) and we all know what happens next. But the main draw of this incomprehensibly paced soap opera is Charmaine, a woman whose pregnancy makes the gestation period of an elephant look speedy. In the five series it takes for her to reach full term, we see a fire almost tear down Virgin River, the local doctor go blind then regain his sight, the town mayor be overthrown, replaced, then reappointed and the local weed farm turn into a fentanyl pipeline – and get busted by the FBI. It is glorious, wonderful trash. Jenny Stevens
Friends
I cannot recall the first time I saw Monica, Rachel, Phoebe, Joey, Ross and Chandler – Friends, the seminal twentysomething sitcom, was always on at my house as a 90s kid. My memories of them are basically as old as those of their No 1 fan, my mother. As a teen, I watched all of Friends on DVD, yearning for adult freedom. As an adult, I rewatched it all on Netflix, yearning to go back. Now, I watch it seeking something more amorphous: familiarity, a reliable escape. The Friends’ giant New York apartments are a world and several eras away from my own. Yet something about Central Perk and Chanandler Bong and “Pivot!” and two across-the-hall purple doors will always, always feel like home. Jenny Stevens
Due South
From the very first second of this heart-warming 90s comedy crime show theme tune, I am in bliss. Do not come at me with your questions about this tale of a Canadian mountie’s adventures with a loudmouth buddy cop. Yes, of course it’s daft that he (Paul Gross) solves crimes through the power of sheer kindness and – troublingly – licking random bits of evidence he finds on the floor. But it’s often hilarious, and the tale of friendship at its heart is genuinely touching. Plus, it featured youthful bit-parts from Mark Ruffalo, Carrie-Anne Moss and Ryan Phillippe and its creator, Paul Haggis, went on to be an Oscar-winning screenwriter. Cosy TV with credentials. Alexi Duggins
Lovesick
It always makes me chuckle that Lovesick was once known as Scrotal Recall. Naff former title aside, this sparky romcom has a lot of fun with its novel premise: Johnny Flynn’s Dylan finds out he has chlamydia and has to tell his exes that he has an STD. Cue hilariously awkward encounters, endless shenanigans with his friends (Daniel Ings as Luke, his best mate, is a comedy tour de force) and a will-they-won’t-they romance that out-smoulders Ross and Rachel’s between Dylan and Evie (Antonia Thomas). It’s a beautifully written show that digs into the messiness of love and the power of friendship, and a regular in my rewatch rotation. It’s perfect comfort TV – heartwarming and moving with the actors providing a cosy blanket of non-stop laughs to wrap around you as the chill of winter descends. Ann Lee
Sex and the City
When I was an unkissed teenager, Sex and the City provided the giddy promise of dates and sex to come. When I lived in New York after the show had just ended, it offered the only relatable reflection of the city as it was then (on-location Manhattan shooting, how I miss you). When I lived in London in the years after, it felt like an old friend, a bittersweet reminder of a place and life I missed. Now, living in New York again, it’s closer to a historical document, both of the city and of my youth. It ended long ago but life always finds new reasons for me to rewatch a show of such electric energy that even years after it died, it still feels thrillingly alive. Benjamin Lee
Pingu
You can’t beat a burst of Pingu on his YouTube channel. The mischievous shapeshifting penguin– now stretched, now splat-like, now deploying that ferocious trumpet-like beak – is fabulously irate yet cheeringly irrepressible too. Each chilly escapade in this winter wonderland (sleighing, fishing, snowball-fighting) is warmly observed; the episode where little sister Pinga is born is a three-minute primer for growing families. Plus – ultimate comfort! – there’s not even any dialogue to follow as, apart from Robby the Seal’s occasional honk, it’s mostly told in the nonsense language of Penguinese. Moot moot! Chris Wiegand
Nigella
My severe case of eldest daughter syndrome (AKA type-A control freakery accompanied by a pathological sense of duty) has lumbered me with a paradox: I can only truly relax when I’m doing something constructive. Or can kid myself that I am. Enter the cookery programme. Let me gaze absently upon Nigella’s sumptuously well-stocked larder (or the pared-back perfection of Nigel Slater’s kitchen garden or the serene order of Mary Berry’s countertop) safe in the knowledge that I’m also passively absorbing heaps of useful advice about preparing a noodle soup or the perfect chocolate cake. What could be more productive? Rachel Aroesti
Arrested Development
I remember almost every major gag in Arrested Development (they’re too good to forget, really) and yet every single time I watch it makes me laugh as if it’s the first time all over again. The meta misfortunes of the Bluth family – which boasts a banged-up patriarch, a son-in-law with a humiliation kink, a gaggle of dysfunctional siblings and, we’re told, “the one son who had no choice but to keep them all together” – are frequently absurd, but totally brilliant. Steer clear of the awful Netflix reboot, resist the urge to paint yourself blue à la Tobias Fünke, and you’re bound to have a ton of fun. Hannah J Davies
