ONE thing I’ve noticed about thee and me down the years is we do like a good musical. Particularly productions about putting on productions, the whole leotards, black tights and leg warmers, let’s do the show right here, affairs. That being so, can I have a show of jazz hands, please, in appreciation of the splendiferous Fosse/Verdon (BBC2, Friday, 9pm).

Fosse achieved world fame as the choreographer of All That Jazz, Cabaret (for which he won a best director Oscar), and Sweet Charity. What is less well known, or rather acknowledged, is that his wife, the dancer and choreographer Gwen Verdon, was with him every step of the way in every sense. She was not his muse or any of that patronising old nonsense, she was his creative partner, an artist in her own right. That she has never been given the credit she deserves puts her in the company of millions of women from the dawn of time. What are you going to do?

If you are Thomas Kail and Steven Levenson you make an eight part television series about it and ask Hamilton creator Lin-Manuel Miranda to produce. The result: a series that has been nominated for 17, count ‘em, Emmys.

Sam Rockwell and Michelle Williams are terrific in the title roles, with Fosse shown as a flinty, charming, pill-popping workaholic forever being chased by demons from his past. Williams’ Verdon is the real surprise. Outwardly soft and unassuming, the good cop to Fosse’s bad, she had a determination that Lady Macbeth would have applauded.

Besides being a meaty drama about a lifelong love-hate affair between two people, Fosse/Verdon does a wonderful job of explaining the creative process in all its magic and mystery. Why did the dancers in Sweet Charity hang over the rail just so? Where did the ventriloquist scene in Chicago come from? What was the story behind the gorilla mask in Cabaret? All the answers are here, and if you can’t wait for next week’s instalment the whole series is on iPlayer. I know, because I binge-watched it like Elsie from Chelsea on a bender.

Now 16 series in, you might think Who Do You Think You Are? (BBC1, Monday, 9pm) would be running out of subjects by now, but in every run there is just enough star power and surprises to keep the show on the road. This week the programme had its first double act in father and son Michael and Jack Whitehall.

They are a combo it would be easy to scorn: dad was a top flight showbiz agent (to Judi Dench, no less), son had a smooth path from public school into television. Neither man’s biography shrieks “struggle”.

But as anyone who has seen him in Bad Education (Netflix) can testify, the kid has genuinely funny bones and is the first to mock his privileged upbringing.

So it was as the two delved into dad’s side of the family, though there was sadness early on when they discovered the truth behind the family tale of a relative who was said to have died of grief after losing her husband in a pony and trap accident. She did in fact end her days in an asylum with syphilis-induced dementia, not uncommon among women and men of the time.

It was not long before Jack discovered “a massive Tory” among his ancestors. Thomas Jones Philips, a Welsh magistrates’ clerk, was a small but vital cog in the Establishment’s crushing of the Chartist movement. Whitehall junior looked suitably ashamed as the tale of Philips’ spying and fixing of votes unfolded, but he could not resist a wisecrack when a historian told him one of the Chartists had his death sentence commuted to transportation to Australia. Well that’s a nice place, joked Whitehall junior. Not at that time, he was reminded.

Sharon Horgan, writer and star of Catastrophe, is proving to be British TV’s answer to Tina Fey and Amy Poehler in the way she champions other women’s work and gets it on the screen.

This Way Up (Channel 4, Thursday, 10pm) finds her playing the fictional sister of her mate, the writer and comedian Aisling Bea. Shona (Horgan) is the successful sister, with a well paid job and great flat in London. When we meet Aine (Bea) she is checking out of a clinic after treatment for a nervous breakdown.

Mental health is a tricky territory for comedy to navigate. As David Brent said in The Office when introducing a new start to the accounts department: “They are absolutely mad, all of them. Especially that one. He’s mental. Not literally, obviously, that wouldn't work.”

Will This Way Up work? It is occasionally too hip for its own good (some of the cultural references went straight over this viewer’s head), but the script is smart, the performances convincing, and both women, like young Whitehall, have funny bones. A hit.