Burnistoun BBC2, 10pm Movie Connections BBC1, 10.45pm There was much crazed comedy to savour in Burnistoun , a scabrous and diamond-sharp new sketch show which should propel its Glaswegian creators and lead performers, Robert Florence and Iain Connell, to the best kind of overnight stardom: the sort which is justly deserved by those who've served years'-long apprenticeships.

Having toiled for more than a decade as scriptwriters on such TV hits as Chewin' The Fat, Legit and Empty, Florence and Connell know how to craft singular characters, bizarrely-believable situations and pithy real-life dialogue that will induce helpless laughter.

My personal favourite from F&C's long-overdue solo show amounted to a searing expose of the authentic workings of the Scottish tabloid newspaper industry, as exemplified in The Burnistoun Herald's day-to-day operations. This fictional organ was edited, you see, by a pint-sized monomaniac who insisted on every news story being re-written according to his personal definition of "news" and "story".

We thus saw the gradual evolution of an accurate but mundane report of three masked men walking into a bar into something that would substantiate a ridiculous and attention-grabbing headline: one man in a top hat rolling into a granny's verandah, opening a packet of crisps, thereby prompting a woman to receive a spanking.

As the Burnistoun Herald's witless editor jubilantly exclaimed: "Now we're selling newspapers."

Elsewhere in F&C's contemporary urban Scots dystopia, two street-wise priests strutted, their gallus demeanour echoing that of Charlie Nicholas as they staged a free-market exercise in Roman Catholicism ("Who's got a sin? Anybody out there wi' a sin?"). Burnistoun Tourist Board worked hard to devise a slogan for the town: "It's better than people are makin' it out to be."

Burnistoun's ice-cream van was meanwhile being operated by a sinister fraternal variant on camp interior designers Colin and Justin: Walter and Paul. Walter and Paul are brothers who squabble sibilantly over every item their van has on sale. Walter kept insisting each bar of chocolate belonged to him. Paul wore a beret and wound up having his nether regions brutally exposed. It was all very, very funny - if a trifle too laddish at times. Burnistoun: you wouldn't want to live there, but if you're a lover of comedy, you'd love to see the place again. Pray there'll be a series.

Sadly, British television's sole informative film programme reached the end of its second series with a behind-the-scenes profile of Calendar Girls. Movie Connections is a huge credit to its BBC Scotland authors, offering the perfect blend of casual anecdotal amusement and professional film-industry insight. Its interviews with actors, directors and producers are relaxed yet informative. For example, Helen Mirren confessed her initial resistance to making Calendar Girls. She'd at first dismissed it as another of those archetypal modern British films: "Middle-of-the-road . . . middle-class middle-aged middling."

Having eventually signed up, she greatly enjoyed the filming process - but then went on to offer lasting words of wisdom to film-makers everywhere. "Very often in a movie, if you're having a good time, the movie sucks - because all the energy's gone into having a good time and everyone's forgotten about the energy needed to make the film."

I don't know if folk have a good time making Movie Connections, but I do know it's good to watch.