Susan Calman’s Not Quite End of the Year Show (BBC

Scotland)**

Hogmanay (BBC1)**

Only an Excuse (BBC1)***

Sean’s Very Scottish Hogmanay (STV)**

Selling Scotland (BBC1)**

HOGMANAY without Jackie Bird. We knew it was looming, like the iceberg that did for RMS Titanic, or a new season of River City. But nothing could have prepared us for the sheer, buttock-aching blandness of it all.

Perhaps we should not judge too harshly. Ms Bird had herself warned of the intense scrutiny that comes with presenting one of the biggest shows of the year. “The word Hogmanay,” she told a newspaper last week, “comes from the Norse Hog-maan-aye, which roughly translated means: to give anything on the telly on December 31 a kicking.”

(Speaking of papers, Jackie still hasn’t forgiven The Herald of 2001 for saying of her infamous sequined semmit - a sparkly homage to Rab C Nesbitt - that it made her neck seem “scrawny as a piece of battery-farmed poultry”. Wisnae me, Jackie! Honest! I love the “desk to disco” look you’ve made your own!)

Jackie was so good at the job it took three people to replace her this year: Susan Calman, who is on Radio 4 more often than the pips; comedian Des Clarke; and entertainment reporter Amy Irons. Even then, the programme relied on lots of pre-recorded material, something total pro Jackie never did. In a further sign of the scorched earth policy pursued by BBC Scotland chiefs, musicians Phil Cunningham and Aly Bain had been given their jotters.

The evening began with a half hour show on BBC Scotland, just to make sure the new channel on the block felt included and useful. No point spending £30 million on a dog and doing all the barking yourself. Susan Calman’s Not Quite the End of the Year Show was a chat session so cosy and congratulatory it made Wogan look like Stalin’s show trials. The tone for the evening was set: safety first, mind how you go, have any flavour you like as long as it is vanilla.

The main event kicked off at 11.30 on BBC1 Scotland and was simulcast on BBC Scotland. We were back in what looked like the prerecorded chat show with Calman. Her guests earlier in the evening, James Cosmo (Game of Thrones, His Dark Materials) and Mark Bonnar (Guilt), had been joined by Line of Duty’s Martin Compston and Jane McCarry of Still Game. Tame banter followed.

The hard work was being done by Clarke in Edinburgh and Irons in Stonehaven. Irons was shouty and hoarse, but at least she was animated. Clarke was confident and competent, though he was rather ahead of the crowd on the big countdown.

Back indoors, Travis continued to play the studio gig like it was a corporate event, with the audience standing around like some middle aged Top of the Pops crowd who were missing their beds.

As for the rest of it, particularly the Calman end of things, where was the jeopardy, the excitement, the raw buzz of a truly live gig? The only part that offered genuine bangs for the viewer’s buck were the fireworks after the bells. Otherwise, this was a Hogmanay show that felt like it had been cooked earlier and was being reheated on the night.

Oh Jackie, you were missed.

Stand by for an important announcement. Clear small children and pets from the area, secure breakable objects and make granny’s a double. Ready? Good people of Scotland, Only an Excuse is funny again.

Now, let us not get carried away here. Post-appendectomy patients watching were in no danger of bursting their stitches. But my God, the relief. How many years have we sat through half an hour of excruciating humourlessness with a rictus grin on our collective coupon, only to come away disappointed?

Changes had been made, notably drafting in extra bodies so that Jonathan Watson did not have to carry the show alone. Smart move. Even Eric had his Ernie. Watson was joined by Mark Cox, Joy McAvoy, Louise McCarthy and Alex Norton. Yes, wummin were there, and not just to be the object of lame Frank McAvennie gags. There was even a wummin in the ten-strong writing team. Just one, but it is a start. They’ll be letting one run the country next.

A couple of sketches aside (one on Brendan Rodgers, another on the mahogany-like presenting style of certain pundits), the strongest material had nothing to do with football. Someone commission Cruachan Hydro Electric Power Station, Scotland’s answer to Chernobyl, now.

Sure, there were still some mirth-free stretches and misfires, but this was Scots comedy tailored for a Scots audience; more importantly it was funny.

Jack Docherty is a cheeky article. Researchers on Selling Scotland, a look at how the country has been depicted in ads down the years, had unearthed one of the first recorded Scottish commercials. Dated 1897 and shown in American cinemas, it featured a gang of kilt-wearing teuchters selling whisky.

“This strange, grainy clip,” said the Scot Squad star, “is last year’s STV Hogmanay special.” Cheeky, but on the money. When it comes to Hogmanay, STV’s offerings in recent years have been televisual mince. Last year Lulu was wheeled out for a “Hogmanay Hooley” that had all the atmosphere of a flu jab session in your local GPs’ surgery, and who can forget the year Elaine C Smith welcomed in the New Year with Nicola Sturgeon in a recreated 1970s living room? Oh, the banter.

In Sean’s Very Scottish Hogmanay the Sean in question was Batty, not Connery. Weatherman of the STV parish, Sean is licensed to tell you when it is going to bucket down.

The location for the party, Craufurdland Castle in Ayrshire, was a cut above. Gold star for the production team on that one, even if the rather snug surroundings made it look as though we were dropping in on the smallest ceilidh in the world.

Dressed in full kilt with accessorising earpiece, Sean took to the part of host with his trademark big daft laddie gusto. Besides interviewing the laird and his wife, he had been out and about filming segments on Hogmanay traditions. In the Borders he made black bun, and in Dundee he watched two women put a dress on a herring. Something to do with ensuring the family fish barrel would always be full, or so they told him.

Meanwhile, back in the castle, Sean’s presenting partner, Jennifer Reoch, was learning what the Craufurd family ate in olden days (soup, mostly). “It’s basically Instagram,” said a thrilled Reoch as the laird read from old kitchen diaries.

True, Sean and Jen gave Emily Maitlis and Andrew Neil nothing to worry about on the interviewing front, and the production flowed as naturally as treacle uphill, but at least an effort had been made to offer something fresh.

Selling Scotland (BBC1, Hogmanay) had the slickness, but it was 30 minutes of telly trying to pass as an hour’s worth. Much of the territory, including the Tennent’s “lager lovelies”, had been covered before, though it was nice to see the likes of Molly Weir popping into neighbours’ houses uninvited to show them how to clean a floor with Flash, and pea and ham from a chicken will always raise a smile.

As was pointed out several times, the ads were very much of their time, which apparently made it fine to show sexism and racism that would not have made it through the door any other night.

“I can’t believe we got away with showing all those ads on the BBC,” said Docherty as the show closed. Neither can I, but that’s Hogmanay telly for you; a lot of cheek, a bit of charm, and thank Rabbie Burns it is over again for another year.