TV: 4:00pm – 5:00pm / Body & Soul (24 Day 5 / ER episode 12.12)

Having just watched these two episodes back to back, I couldn’t help but notice a theme or, more accurately, something missing.

Remember Tony Almeida? Because no one at CTU seems to. After being blown up and simultaneously widowed within seconds of day five commencing, he’s been more than a little absent. Save for the scene where his unconscious body was used as bait in the evil fake doctor’s plan to kill Jack with a pair of surgical scissors, the clinic might just as well not exist. Which is strange because last year, when Driscoll’s fruit loop offspring was admitted, we couldn’t escape the place. Ok, so the guy’s unconscious. But if Big Brother Live can get away with showing 8 hours per day of stupid people sleeping, is it too much to ask for the occasional shot of Tony? Just to confirm that he hasn’t died/blown up again/escaped to go renegade.

Meanwhile our favourite medical drama strode into its episode without so much as a “Previously….” Which might not sound much, but in ER terms is equivalent to them holding up a big sign proclaiming ‘Maverick Episode’. Turns out it was merely the now annual ‘big celebrity guest star, just one storyline’ fest. That and the utilisation of a classic scriptwriting tool – flashbacks. Of stuff that we didn’t see the first time round. So you see, although there was no “Previously…”, there are in fact lots of previouslys. Clever, huh? Well it could have been better. Tv.com has all the factual inaccuracies, if you want to be picky. In the main though, they could pretty much be overlooked, save for when they tried to convince us Anspaugh King of the Hospital couldn’t get the day off for Mark Greene’s funeral. The fun, however, came from references to past characters, who conveniently enough were all working off screen. I was inevitably sucked in, and kept expecting Carol to career into shot atop a gurney.

Back at 24, Jack was meeting up with old colleagues too. Ok, we’ve never seen or heard of Christopher Henderson before now, but five minutes of telephone exposition to Audrey, and Jack’s got us all convinced – former CTU gone bad, who recruited and trained Bauer (shattering all illusions that he was actually born that way). So Jack foils the smarmy receptionist, only to be stun-gunned before he’s even entered the office. It’s fun when they play ‘increasing levels of competence’ with the terrorists, but waaaaaah this is Jack Bauer. He’s supposed to be indestructible. Henderson promises cooperation, throws in a George Mason / Nina Myers reference for kicks and swiftly gives up his former mentee for (near) certain death. Prompting Jack to cry “how could I have been so stupid?!”. Indeed. Even I saw that one coming. Naturally our protagonist survives – just as well, since base camp’s spiralling further and further out of control – and the so far so interesting Henderson scarpers. Though I suspect he possesses the requisite evil cackle and celebrity status (Mr RoboCop) to ensure a several episode run.

ER’s sleb guest star “Emmy-winner James Woods in a rare television performance” is doing sterling work portraying the progression of ALS, backwards. Abby’s got a bee in her bonnet about something, so I desperately try to recall previous storylines/relationships/mentions of Dr Nate Lennox, even though obviously it didn’t actually happen back then. I sometimes think I get too involved. Throughout the episode she remains stoic in her approach to continuing care, despite her colleagues’ protestations. We don’t get to see her ‘previously’ (1999) until the end of the show, at the point where she finally convinces the old guy to keep fighting. As it turns out, his present day set up “You’ve become a very persuasive doctor” is more moving than the flashback itself. Nevertheless we get a cute little bit about Abby in Med School being talked out of quitting a class by the persuasive Professor. As this kind of personal journey is reserved for key characters only, it seems Carter’s mantel has officially been handed over. Now if only they’d change the opening credits to reflect that.

Just as ER survives without Carter, many argue that 24 could go on without Jack. This episode seemed to be testing the water on that theory, by giving him only minimal screen time (albeit still more than Tony). While there was a sense that something was missing, the other characters provided a fair distraction. However brief, he did still manage to bag the best storyline, with first runner up going to Logan’s nutty wife. It does seem that whenever there is a crisis Jack gets sucked back in to field work. But realistically, it cant be. Every time a new day starts we leap forward at least 12 months. At least some of those 365 days must be spent solving some kind of problem sans Bauer. With the odd day in between spent catching up on filing and oiling the shredder. So logistically CTU could cope. Whether we the viewers would deal with it so well remains to be seen. Personally, and judging by my recent reaction to Tom Quinn’s passing, I’m not confident. A double team replacement might work, but they’d be hard pushed to live up to Michelle and Tony.

Does the fact that I can reasonably compare these two programmes mean that ER is regaining strength and quality? Or that 24 is losing its way? I think it’s actually a combination of the two. After a shaky start to season 12, ER has found its feet. The hideous Luka and Sam/kid story seems a lifetime away now he’s happily ensconced with Abby, and I’m generally pretty impressed. I predict that they keep this going for the remaining nine episodes – though I’m not terribly hopeful about the upcoming foray into the jungle to catch up with Carter/thingy – and end the season with another classic scriptwriting tool, the monumental cliff-hanger. As for 24, we’re only nine episodes in, and so I’m certain the best is yet to come. In the meantime, I’ll continue to pine for characters of old whose return has been hinted at (Jack asked Audrey to find Kim at least 4 hours ago. Has she never heard of chasing up?) or promised (for the love of god, he’s on the promotional poster!) At least until one of the current crop of characters does something vaguely interesting. Or leaves, at which point I’ll turn my attention to moaning about the fact that they're gone.

Pub: Phil's Last Quiz (O'Neills)

What makes a good send off? Party food, rounds of applause, tears? This week we witnessed the parting of a great man, from a Great British institution. Like Andi Peters and Eamon Holmes before him, Phil's last show was emotional. In barely a year he had established himself as Quizmaster Extraordinaire - fusing general knowledge, copious swearing and kids tv themes into a 150 minute explosion every Thursday night. The fact that we'd only discovered this experience a mere six weeks ago didn't make it any less meaningful. We were drunk and there was an awful lot of love in the music room.

Nine hours before the big event came the devastating news that we were two team members down. Given that our core team is four, with the occasional add ons, this was a serious blow. At this point revision (memorising Digital Spy headlines and clicking random article on Wikipedia) was abandoned and replaced by knowing smiles and our almost entirely meaningless war cry "death or glory!" Fast forward to 8.30pm where we sat surrounded by a team of 15, a team of 12, and two teams of 8, staring certain death in the face. “Basically, you’re fucked” observed our quizmaster helpfully.

"Before we begin..." yelped a fellow barman as Phil paused to launch into his last show. The celebrations began with a marvellous array of hats, sweets and party poppers, followed swiftly by photos, silly t-shirts and a torrent of lollipops in the direction of the star. The new boys, and the only other team of three, on the next table looked suitably confused as they were chastised for sniffing at a party hat (immediately removed and redistributed to a more agreeable participant) whilst an army of 15 swiped their spare chairs and eyed them up.

Suitable Phil shaped team names were created and the games began. We stumbled through the first two rounds without many problems - clashing only briefly over the comparable merits of Pamela Anderson and Jordan's tits. The picture round gave us a little more trouble, thanks to the current glut of American teen actresses, and the quiz writer's obsession with Shameless. A score update confirmed we were only 5 points off the leaders and that this quiz might be for turning, if only we could stop bitching about their 13 man advantage and knuckle down.

High on a flawless, albeit expected, performance in Brucie's Bonus round, we flew into the Answer Trail full of confidence. Honourable mention goes to AP for her exceptional Steve Martin knowledge, while J would appreciate my glossing over the fact that he missed an England World Cup fact. Phil launched into his "here we go!" question delivery with gusto, until some inebriate fell off her chair, and he was forced to revert to ‘staff member in charge' and throw concern her way. One can only hope that suitable marks were deducted from her team sheet for ruining Phil's last ever Chemical Brothers performance.

Scraps of paper were deposited for the inevitable bonus round tie breaker, until it transpired that every team had scored full marks, rendering it less of a tie breaker and more of just, well, another question. Our team proved their veritable genius in the art of educated guesses, and once more our kitchen cupboard was lined with cheap biscuits with silly names. This triumph was swiftly followed by a surprisingly undemanding Wipe Out round, and our ultimate victory. I cant be bothered to work out the stats, but I’m told it was an impressive win. I was just glad we beat the other team of three, who slunk away immediately after the final scores, probably fearing further celebratory frivolities, or some kind of ritualistic punishment for the losers.

Phil ended his last quiz with the same words that, presumably, closed his first. "I've been Phil. You've been sexual. But not as sexual as me." Standing ovations and a rousing rendition of 'for he's a jolly good fellow' were followed by drunken requests for a "speeeeeech!" Our quizmaster, suitable choked with emotion by this point, quoted a song that he'd tried (obviously not very hard) and failed to procure for the evening. So in his lilting Northern Irish accent he declared "We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when. But I know we'll meet again some sunny day..." and tried desperately not to cry. All that remained were handshakes, kisses and a rousing chorus of 'You'll never walk alone', before we stumbled into the cold night air, glory firmly in hand.