George Orwell has a lot to answer for. OK, he wrote books of unsurpassable anger and brilliance, and wore an excellent moustache, but, by creating Big Brother (the concept, I mean) he has inflicted upon us Davina McCall, Russell Brand, and Jade Goody, and by creating Room 101 (the concept), he inadvertently created Room 101 (the show). Now, in a vaguely Biblical moment, Room 101 hath begat TV Heaven, Telly Hell, amid much wailing and gnashing of teeth.

This is a curious beast. The format - funny person asks other funny person about telly they like and dislike, hilarity ensues - is horribly tired, and host Sean Lock's obligatory three scripted gags to the audience are excruciatingly terrible. However...

...the calibre of guest so far has been excellent - Alan Davies last week and Johnny Vegas last night - meaning that the resulting banter tends to be really rather good. It all ends up oddly unsatisfying, as the nagging thought occurs that if they'd just shoved Sean Lock in a room with anyone halfway amusing and filmed the resulting conversation, a far better programme would almost certainly have emerged. What is the point of limiting effortlessly gifted improvisers like Lock and Vegas to discussing telly? Let them talk about whatever they want for thirty minutes! Johhny Vegas in particular is capable of sustained and incredible flights of self-lacerating comedy anti-logic, and that seems a bit wasted on a bit of a natter about how Sex And The City isn't very good.

In my opinion, Sean Lock is one of the most amiable comics on the box these days - witness his work on 8 Out Of 10 Cats and his own unfairly ignored sitcom 15 Storeys High - and deserves far better than this ill-thought-out show. At the very least, the producers need to keep the calibre of guest very high indeed - my personal wishlist would include Boothby Graffoe, Brendon Burns, Dylan Moran or Omid Djalili - but I have a sinking feeling we'll end up with Jeremy Clarkson and Jonathan Ross...