The actor, writer and comedian on turning his life around, fancying Cilla Black and his secret nose-picking

Born in Coventry, Guz Khan, 39, was working as a secondary school teacher when he began uploading comedy videos as the character Mobeen in 2014. The following year, he gave up teaching to pursue standup. In 2017, his show Man Like Mobeen was released by the BBC and ran for five series. He won a Royal Television Society award in 2020 and was Bafta-nominated twice. His films include Army of Thieves and The Bubble. Guz Khan’s Custom Cars starts on Quest on 19 January. He is married with five children and lives in the West Midlands.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
Impulsivity. We end up in strange places, like right now – I am in the Middle East.

The Scottish star used his exceptional gift for impersonations to create genre-mashing specials that were as epic as the Hollywood films they parodied. He was a perfectionist performer with huge talent

• Actor and comedian Stanley Baxter dies aged 99

The description “special” is overused in television schedules; Stanley Baxter’s programmes justify it. The comedian is one of the few stars whose reputation rests on a handful of astonishing one-offs – standalone comic extravaganzas screened in the 1970s and 1980s, first by ITV’s London Weekend Television and then the BBC.

In both cases, the networks ended their associations with Baxter not because of lack of audience interest – at their peak, the shows reached more than 20 million viewers – but due to the colossal costs demanded by the performer’s vast and perfectionist visual ambition. One of Baxter’s favourite conceits was to re-create, in witty pastiche, scenes from big-budget Hollywood movies that made it look as if his versions had also spent millions of dollars.

Baxter enjoyed a decades-spanning career on radio, TV and film, and was famous for impersonating famous people including Queen Elizabeth II

• Stanley Baxter obituary

• ‘Astonishing’: how his TV extravaganzas reached 20m

The actor and comedian Stanley Baxter has died at the age of 99.

Born in Glasgow in 1926, Baxter was best known for helming TV sketch series including The Stanley Baxter Show and The Stanley Baxter Picture Show.

Trump and Vance head to South Park in Christmas gear for a big showdown – only for Jesus to show up. At one point, you can almost feel Trey Parker and Matt Stone taking a stand against the US government

Coming off its most controversial and highest rated season in years, South Park had high expectations to meet with its season finale. Given how infamously down-to-the-wire its production schedule is – showrunners Matt Stone and Trey Parker often don’t start writing scripts until the week they’re set to air, working up to the 11th hour to turn in a completed episode (a method that caused them to miss a deadline earlier this year) – there was some question as to whether they would be able to tie everything up at all, let alone in a satisfying manner.

Most viewers were probably anticipating a giant, apocalyptic climax to the various long-running storylines – chief among them Donald Trump’s attempts to kill his and his lover Satan’s soon-to-be-born spawn. Instead, Stone and Parker swerved expectations, delivering an introspective and ultimately melancholy climax, one that managed to balance hope and despair in equal measure, alongside the outrageous shock humour for which they’re famous.

Norwich Theatre Royal
There are eye-popping designs, playful puns and musical flourishes as Joe Tracini’s story unfolds on its own madcap shoreline

Here is a sun-kissed panto to dispel any dreams of a white Christmas. Joe Tracini’s script is set in the seaside town of Crabbington Sands where a pastel-dressed ensemble make merry with Aimee Leigh’s breezy choreography. Cinderella’s sisters, gruesome twosome Lou and Lav (cue toilet-flush effect), could have stepped out of an outrageously saucy postcard. Designer Kirsteen Wythe gifts them lurid costumes best seen with UV protection. They include a beach ball-shaped dress, a bucket-and-spade hat, fairground-ride frocks and wigs seemingly woven with fishing rope.

Cinderella’s parents ran a local hotel that has been shuttered since she lost them, and she yearns for new adventures, a longing captured in an opening rendition of Natasha Bedingfield’s Unwritten. In the lead role, Georgia May Foote brings a big sister vibe to her crowdwork with the young audience that also underlines how Cinders sees the hopelessly devoted Buttons (Tracini) as a brother. But she is written to be a bit insipid, and there is little spark to her romance with a wannabe rock-star prince (Danny Hatchard, poised between buffoon and decent bloke).

Emma Mackey, Jamie Lee Curtis, Albert Brooks, Rebecca Hall and Woody Harrelson are among the stars lost in the writer-director’s baffling misfire

Ella McCay, a new comedy drama written and directed by James L Brooks, feels like a relic, and not just because it’s set, seemingly arbitrarily, in 2008. Broadly appealing, well cast, neither strictly comic nor melodramatic, concerning ordinary people in non-IP circumstances, it’s the type of mid-budget adult film that used to appear regularly in cinemas in the 90s and aughts, before the streaming wars devoured the market. Even its lead promotional image, turned into a life-size cardboard cut-out at the theater – Emma Mackey’s titular Ella in a sensible trench coat, balancing on one foot as she fixes a broken block heel – recalls a bygone era of films like Confessions of a Shopaholic, Miss Congeniality or Little Miss Sunshine, that would now go straight to streaming.

To be clear, I miss these types of movies, and want to see more of them. I want to see a lighthearted but realistic portrait of a 34-year-old woman serving as lieutenant governor of an unnamed state that is, judging by the college football paraphernalia and the vibe, probably Michigan. I want to still believe in the possibility of smart and sentimental popcorn fare whose low-stakes drama insists on the inherent inconsistencies and decency of people. I especially would like to say that Ella McCay is an admirable final salvo (or so) for Brooks, the 85-year-old writer/director/producer whose prolific career includes both iconic sitcoms (The Mary Tyler Moore show, Taxi and the Simpsons), and now-classic films (Terms of Endearment, Broadcast News and As Good As It Gets).

Howlingly funny comedy, jaw-dropping documentaries and astonishing drama … it’s been another fantastic year of TV. Our countdown of the very best kicks off here
• More on the best culture of 2025

***

Park theatre, London
Gleefully leaning into all the cliches and groansome laughs, Dan Patterson and Jez Bond’s musical vampire romp is supremely silly

If ever there was a show where the title came first, you’d guess it was this one by Dan (Whose Line Is It Anyway?) Patterson and Jez Bond. Why else, if not to justify a pun, would you make an a capella singing version of the Victorian vampire novel? And Dracapella is nothing if not fond of a pun. (“There is a supernatural force at work in Transylvania.” / “Which is?” / “No, not witches.”) There’s lots more where that came from in this spooky comedy romp, in which an undead Romanian count concludes his 400-year search for love to a soundtrack of closely harmonised 80s power ballads and champion beatboxing.

The latter is all provided by ABH Beatbox, a cast member of the BAC Beatbox Academy’s Frankenstein, in whose globetrotting success I discern another (distant) inspiration for this music-gothic crossover. This one’s a more traditional affair, a knowing entertainment forever sending up its own storytelling cliches, and at every turn choosing groansome laughs over thrills. Arguably it lowers the stakes (it’s catching!) when a story about centuries-spanning passion becomes a vehicle for The Play What I Wrote-style larks. But the relentless silliness of Patterson and Bond’s confection amply compensates, as Harker’s train to Dover is decanted on to a rail replacement bus, and Dracula demonstrates his metaphysical powers by having his henchman consume – as if by magic! – a bowlful of marshmallows.

York Theatre Royal
Paul Hendy’s panto includes some silly surprises, well-handled audience interaction and a twinkling dame

Anyone remember the bit in Sleeping Beauty with the velociraptor named Kevin? Me neither. But an incongruous dinosaur sidekick is just one of the wonderfully silly additions to this take on the fairytale, along with a daft classroom routine, some capering ghouls and a regiment of toy soldiers come to life.

Now in the fifth year of its current formula, helmed by panto veteran Paul Hendy as writer-producer, the York Theatre Royal’s festive offering feels solidly bedded in. It’s reliably crowd-pleasing and family-friendly, with a string of familiar set pieces to delight those who come back year after year. We know there will be the slop scene, the ghost bench, the pun-packed comedy routine, the pre-interval spectacle. Part of the joy is in waiting for these moments and wondering what new twist will be put on them.

Hollywood is still trying to court younger audiences but this year’s crop of new comedies, from Adults to I Love LA, have yet to prove essential

This year, despite not particularly liking the show nor wanting to, I have thought a lot about the opening scene to Adults. The FX half-hour comedy about a group of recent college graduates in New York begins, naturally, on the subway; what seems like an over-studied portrait of early adulthood intimacy – tangled limbs, in-group references, aggressively relaxed banter – quickly devolves into a standoff between a creepy subway masturbator and the group’s instigator, Issa (Amita Rao), trying to out-masturbate him to make a wildly off point about feminism. “Is this the world you want?!?” she shouts at him, hand vigorously in pants.

The moment is intentionally off-putting, perhaps too much so – I’m as ripe as anyone for surprise, but found the try-hardness of this shock memorably irksome. Yet it’s also unintentionally revealing: this, it implicitly screams, is a show to get young people’s attention. A similar anxiety courses through the opening of I Love LA, HBO’s west-coast rejoinder to Adults that is similarly pitched as a zeitgeist-y take on the thrilling chaos of young adulthood. We meet Maia, played by creator and co-writer Rachel Sennott, mid-sex with her boyfriend, heedlessly determined to come before going to work, even if it means ignoring an earthquake.

Until she reached her 50s, the actor was a constant presence on stage and screen. Then the offers disappeared. Now, as her renaissance continues, she is taking on Mrs Malaprop in The Rivals

After six decades as an actor, Patricia Hodge says she still gets nervous before a play opens. “I think nerves are always the fear of the unknown,” she says. “Particularly with comedy, where there is no knowing how the audience will react: you’ve got to surf that.”

We meet on a sunny winter morning at the Orange Tree theatre in Richmond, south-west London, where Hodge is about to appear in The Rivals, to celebrate the 250th anniversary of the Richard B Sheridan play, in which she plays the ironic – sorry, iconic – Mrs Malaprop. “You’re sort of in a tunnel, your entire being is focused on this,” she says. She was here in rehearsals until 11pm the night before. Today, she is sitting at a table with a large coffee. Does she enjoy this bit, the putting together of a play? “I think it’s love-hate actually. The process is really why I do theatre.” She says she finds it energising, “but it’s also very trying, and you just don’t want to be left with your own limitations”.