It’s unusual to see Joe Wilkinson – affable comedian, panel-show oddball, celebrity Traitor, RNLI Christmas jumper model – in tears. However, at the end of his latest television show, this is the state in which we find him, hugging his friend and fellow comic David Earl, struggling to pull himself together. He’s thinking about his mum and dad, his brother, his childhood – but most of all he is thinking about the lighthearted 1970s Ronnie Barker sitcom . The opening episode of Joe and David’s Magical Sitcom Journey proves one thing beyond doubt: sitcoms are deeply ingrained in the British psyche.

Wilkinson and Earl’s three-part U&Gold series is an entertaining and unashamedly nerdy delve into three classic British sitcoms – and – with the pair speaking to those involved, as well as visiting filming locations.

The idea came from when Earl, speaking to Wilkinson on their podcast , mentioned he had visited the cul-de-sac where they filmed the exteriors for . A week later, a friend took them to the Brighton allotment where they filmed the 1992 Christmas special of . “We spent an hour and a half going, ‘This is where Albert walked down!’” says Wilkinson. The pair wondered if someone would let them make this decidedly blokey, middle-aged hobby into a TV show: “And, weirdly, they did.”

What Wilkinson didn’t expect was the emotion. Buckets of it. The opening episode, in which Earl lays on a series of encounters for superfan Wilkinson, is as heartstring-tugging as your average showing of . In an early scene, in which Wilkinson lies down in a bunkbed in a replica set of Norman Stanley Fletcher’s prison cell, the comedian is suddenly struck by the urge to call his dad. Throughout, Wilkinson’s thoughts, unbidden, go back to his parents, with whom he would curl up in the living room and watch each week. Though it takes a while, Earl’s efforts prove positively Proustian for Wilkinson.

“That wasn’t planned,” says Wilkinson, speaking from his home in Brighton. “We thought we’d have some fun and find some locations, but we gradually began to realise that these shows that we loved had stayed with us, 30, 40 years later. My parents and I connected over , we bonded over it.” This week’s episode, in which Wilkinson repays the favour with Earl’s favourite sitcom, , has a similar outcome. “ for David was all about hearing his dad laugh,” says Wilkinson. Earl’s father died four years ago.

While it is panel shows, stand-up and podcasts that have made Wilkinson’s name (he has made two other successful podcasts with Earl, as well as the BBC’s ), there’s a palpable sense that heart is in sitcoms. “I can’t remember them not being part of my life,” he says. “When I was younger, growing up in the south-east with parents from London, I thought was just for me. I didn’t realise everyone else loved it. I just wanted to hang out with these people. made me want to go to prison and hang out with funny people. I don’t really know why we love sitcoms so much in this country, it’s just something we have. Like we’ll always have a Sunday roast.”

Wilkinson and Earl have also written two sitcoms, Sky One’s (2016), about an amateur football club, and family comedy (Gold, 2019-21). Despite being warmly received, was cancelled after one series, while managed only 10 episodes.

The sitcom world is cruel. “It’s really hard to make an average sitcom,” he says, “and I think it’s almost impossible to make a brilliant one.” The secret? Chemistry, alchemy, luck, brilliant writers and a brilliant cast, says Wilkinson.

Even then, nothing is guaranteed. “No one knows the formula, everyone is guessing to a degree, rolling the dice.”

Wilkinson, 51 and recognisable from a mile away thanks to his unruly beard and mop of hair, can now call himself a household name thanks to an extraordinary 2025. Having started in stand-up at the relatively late age of 30, the comedian found himself moving into television with the 2010 sitcom – something he calls “luck”, despite Stefan Golaszewski writing the role of Dan for him after seeing Wilkinson at the Edinburgh Fringe. A plethora of TV work followed, including becoming one of Britain’s most familiar panel-show faces thanks to 8 Out of 10 Cats. A memorable stint on and a recurring role in Netflix hit helped to boost his profile, though Wilkinson remained something of the comedy connoisseur’s favourite.

Then came 2025. Wilkinson found himself central to two of the biggest breakout TV hits of the year – Amazon Prime’s and BBC One’s . A year in which wrote about the nation’s “Joe Wilkinson crush” ended with him starring as the romantic lead opposite Keira Knightley in the Waitrose Christmas adverts. The comedian seems baffled when I ask him how his life has changed since that seismic year. “I really don’t know,” he says, apologetically.

was, he says, an eye-opener when it came to true fame. “For about three or four weeks I couldn’t go anywhere,” he says. “I couldn’t get the train. I couldn’t get through Paddington station.” A week or so after the show ended, Wilkinson found himself in the station again: “And nobody batted an eyelid. It was a relief to be honest. You don’t want to be Jennifer Lopez. Basically, it was very very intense for a month and then no one gave a shit.” Would he have any advice for Richard E Grant, Myha’la, Jerry Hall, Michael Sheen et al who are taking part in series two? “That’s a bit like giving someone advice before they go into a funfair,” he laughs. “It’s just so much fun. You don’t need advice. It’s basically a big game of Cluedo in a castle in Scotland.”

While Wilkinson describes his time on and as an uncomplicated pleasure, that hasn’t always been the case with every TV appearance. Wilkinson cut his teeth on the notoriously sharp-elbowed, unforgiving and laddy panel-show boom in the 2010s. Have panel shows changed since those days? “Well, there’s less of them now,” says Wilkinson. “People are sniffy about panel shows, but they were a real opportunity. These shows have launched a lot of careers.”

Panel shows in the 2000s and 2010s gathered a reputation for being macho, gladiatorial places, with comedians adopting an every-man-for-himself attitude to get their jokes heard. Wilkinson says things have changed. “People like me who didn’t enjoy [the earlier years], and who are still doing panel shows, we don’t want people to go through some of the stuff that we went through. There’s no benefit. No good comes from someone feeling like a piece of shit.”

Wilkinson does not expand on the specifics, but it’s hard to imagine such a laid-back character thriving in an atmosphere of peacocking and oneupmanship. Instead, panel shows evolved around Wilkinson. “They matured,” he says. “They became less combative and more about being a shop window for being funny. I still do 8 Out of 10 Cats Does Countdown and they’re still bringing people through.”

Still, there was more than a tinge of unpleasantness when the launch of was announced, with many on social media ready to call it a failure before it had even started. Wilkinson puts this down to the fact that people assumed it would be too hard to pull off, but he was surprised at the sheer amount of negativity. “If I was a young person trying to get on that show,” he says, “the amount of pressure would have put me off. Never in my memory have I seen a show written off before even one word has been written. It’s so impressive that they pulled it off. Hats off to them for sticking to their guns and for having the guts to do it. What’s great is that everyone ate humble pie.”

As for the future, Wilkinson says he doesn’t have too much planned. He has some small roles coming up, the first of which is in Steven Moffat’s upcoming political comedy (“The scripts are brilliant. I’m honoured to say nine lines”), but beyond that he is trying to take it easy and enjoy the rest of the summer. He hasn’t retired from stand-up comedy but “in all honesty I can’t call myself a stand-up at the moment”.

Famously, Wilkinson describes his home life as “boring”, citing sitcoms, gardening and football as his chief interests – he is still a season ticket holder at League Two’s Gillingham FC and attends all home games with his brother. He lives with his wife, Petra Exton, who is also his manager and with whom he has an adult step-son and a step-granddaughter.

His main concern at the moment is weeding his driveway, now that the local council has banned chemical weedkiller. “If there’s any inventors reading this,” he says, with some passion, “can you please invent something that helps me weed my driveway without bending over? It’s insane that I have to go on my knees and pull them out. It all has to be done by hand, it’s so bleak. And that vinegar stuff doesn’t work. Does not work. Absolute bullshit.”

‘Joe and David’s Magical Sitcom Journey’ continues tomorrow at 9pm on U&Gold