I could not decide whether #CancelKarenDunbar (BBC Scotland, Thursday), a documentary exploring comedy and offensiveness, had come along just at the right time, or had missed its stop.

It has, after all, been a few weeks since the stushie over Jimmy Carr, and everyone, including the dogs in the street (“Let’s eat the smug swine!”), had their say about that.

Then again, given the regularity of such rows, another will be along any minute. Dunbar’s documentary went over familiar terrain, though she did uncover a good story about the BBC department that goes through old comedies looking for offensive material to snip. She brought a couple of Chewin’ the Fat sketches to see if they passed muster. They did not.

Her most infamous sketch – ice cream van, boys, say no more – was kept for later. Funnily enough, it would not be cut today because it was such an audience favourite.

Dunbar was torn between wanting to be funny and not wanting to upset people. She went to great lengths to avoid the latter, doing gigs for younger audiences and dropping in on a diversity and inclusion course.

Her conclusion about the new, more sensitive comedy? “There’s something in me that resents being schooled.” Give that woman a series.

Rise of the Nazis: Dictators at War (BBC2, Monday), being the story of an expansionist Russian autocrat responsible for the misery of millions, arrived with perfect timing.

The second of a three part series told the story of Hitler’s Operation Barbarossa, the Nazis’ grand plan to sweep eastward and topple Stalin. Except Uncle Joe, the Red Army, and most importantly the Russian people, had other ideas.

With its world class historians, slightly hammy dramatic reconstructions, and its eye for the killer detail, this series continues to be catnip for anyone interested in that period, or indeed this one.

This week viewers got to hear a snippet from the only known tape of Hitler speaking in a conversational voice, on this occasion to the head of the Finnish Defence Forces. For a mad man he sounded eerily sane.

All that fuss about the series finale of Call the Midwife (BBC1, Sunday) and who would survive the great train crash.

Turns out regulars Dr Turner (Stephen McGann, whose wife, Heidi Thomas, writes Midwife) and Sister Julienne (Jenny Agutter) will be sticking around for series 12 after all. It was the poor blooming train driver, the tea lady, and assorted others who had to buy the farm for our entertainment.

True, Sister Julienne had suffered a heart attack. In one long scene she mused about being just a woman like any other, her time in this life limited. Dr Turner, moreover, had a head injury.

But come the episode end it turned out that Sister J’s heart was fine, it was a chest injury, and the doc’s bump on the head was minor. How everyone laughed. Not a classic episode.

Pity the lesser spotted celebrity of today. If not being hunted for sport they’re being forced to bake, explore their family tree, or spend time in a house with George Galloway.

The Real Dirty Dancing (E4, Monday-Tuesday) advanced the genre to a new level by taking celebrities to the Catskills and asking them to learn to dance like Baby and Johnny from the film.

Well, I say the Catskills, it was really Fritton Lake, near Great Yarmouth, and when I say celebrities I mean a bunch of people you have probably never heard of, plus Anthea Turner, once dubbed Princess Tippy-toes by her old mucker, Eamonn Holmes.

Alas, Eamonn wasn’t there. Too busy falling out with other people, probably.

The prize for the winning couple will be to recreate the famous final dance to the Oscar-winning song (I’ve Had) The Time of My Life. No pressure there, then. Since it involves a lot of lifts and twirls that would make your average Strictly pro blanch I do hope the producers have packed the Deep Heat.

We are all hipsters here, right? Always looking for the hot new telly thing. Shows like Cat Burglar (Netflix), for instance.

Created by Charlie Brooker of Black Mirror fame, it was billed as an “edgy, over-the-top, interactive trivia toon”. In short, the viewer had to answer questions to advance the cartoon tale of Rowdy the Cat trying to get one over on Peanut the Security Pup. Get the answers wrong, or be too slow on the draw, and the game went back to the start.

Cartoon caper that calls to mind Tex Avery, one write-up had promised. Tex Avery my **** as that other sage, Jim Royle, would say. Ten minutes in I was stressed, sweating and getting nowhere. Not quick enough you see (I’m blaming dodgy batteries in the remote).

I shall never try to be cool again.