When I wer' a lad, I loved nothing more than ploughing through my Beano and Dandy comics. I pored over every detail. I studied how the artists drew. I noted the invented use of language and effects. Panels and frames broken up with anarchic scenes of fist-fights, sweets from tuck shops and clouds of dust accompanying every single run. I loved it so much that I dreamed of working for DC Thompson (who gave us the strips) and even applied for a job their when I was 9 with my 'Mighty T-Bird' character. So watching Comics Britannia (BBC4, Monday, 9pm) was a dead cert for me.

As much as Comics Britannia was a celebration of all things Biffo The Bear and Minnie the Minx, it was also a doleful realisation that, without these multicoloured romps, the world is indeed a poorer place. Ver kids have swapped the crude and wild Dennis the Menace for sophisticated animations and Grand Theft Auto. It's a crying shame.

Comics Britannia was narrated by satirist Armando Iannucci, and who better? His skewed view on the world is not a million miles away from the world inhabited by the characters of The Beano, Dandy, Topper, Beezer and the like. Curious glares into a world of nonsensical adults and their restrictive ordered lives. Using Iannucci, clearly a fan of Brit comic strips, was an inspired choice. When talking of the adventures of Lord Snooty, Bash Street Kids, Beryl the Peril and Korky the Cat, Iannucci evidently did so with great affection.

Another inspired piece of programming lay in the talking heads. Instead of wheeling out TV personalities to feign recollection, they brought in real enthusiasts and the people who worked on the comics. Hearing how the frantic action and reckless humour inspired Nick Park was a real TV treat. However, the real meat on the bones was the tales from the writers and cartoonists. Tales of visionaries like Dudley Watkins, the man who brought us so many famous characters, showed us what a master of the art he was. So good was Watkins that he was allowed to stay at home during the war, such was his contribution to society.

Frenzied creativity wasn't the only thing that drove comic writers. John Law, the man who (thankfully) gave us Dennis the Menace was fuelled by an almost insane desire to create. When Dennis first graced the pages of The Beano, it was Britain's first punk movement. Crude drawings stood out greatly amongst the great and detailed art of Law's predecessors. However, as Dennis The Menace grew in popularity with his fantastic mischief as the perfect anti-hero, Law's mental state declined. It was incredibly sad to see a man, clearly an amazing talent, driven to despair over the sheer volume of work dished his way. The despair ultimately led to his death.

Once, these comics sold in their millions, helped children through a World War and put the smiles on the faces of all that leafed the pages. Then, guidelines were brought in as to what children were allowed to view and ingest, and thus, the very soul of The Dandy et al, was sucked dry. More than anything, this is believed to be the reason for the decline in popularity of British fun strips (if you ask the writers). When the anarchy is repressed, all you are left with is mildly amusing tales that lack the punch children so dearly love. Comics Britannia was a fantastic programme which left me thrilled with nostalgia, but also sad at the loss of one of Britain's finest creative outputs. [Mof Gimmers]