Joseph Gilgun and ne’er-do-well pals are back – and planning to rob a circus. Plus: is change afoot in Devs? Here’s what to watch this evening

With so many conversations now happening online, all eyes are on our decor. It may even help me find a buyer for my strange yellow filing cabinet

An awful lot is being made of what is on the bookshelves behind people who broadcast or are interviewed in their homes. Thankfully, mine are at a right angle to the computer so you cannot see any of the titles. In fact, until adjustments were made, it looked as though the shelves were completely empty, which was rather shaming. The books had to be pulled forward, to make it clear they existed, without compromising their anonymity.

I was keen to have a nod to my football team, West Bromwich Albion, in the back of shot. A scarf seemed a bit naff, and my treasured West Brom gnome just too odd. I even considered a jigsaw puzzle of the face of one of our greatest ever players, Tony “Bomber” Brown. Unfortunately Bomber, as gentle a man as you could ever meet, looks like a serial killer in this particular picture.

Vinnie and the gang decide to rob a circus, as Joseph Gilgun’s hit comedy – part-Shameless, part-Ocean’s Eleven – returns for a second run

At first glance, Brassic (Sky One) looks as if it might have been the first quarantine comedy. The second series begins with Vinnie (Joseph Gilgun) skulking around the fictional Lancashire town of Hawley in full DIY hazmat get-up, with his hood up over a hat, a scarf pulled over his face, and sunglasses, despite the weather being a near-permanent state of grey drizzle. It even goes a bit Tiger King, when a robbery takes an unexpected feline turn.

But Brassic is only accidentally of the moment: there’s far too much non-social-distancing going on, for a start. It was filmed last year, while the first series was airing, and it became Sky’s biggest original comedy in years. That’s no surprise. It had an easy appeal and a raucous sense of humour, with real heart behind the madcap antics.

People who love boozers always said it was the atmosphere, not the alcohol, that attracted them. The lockdown has proved us right

Some forgotten heroes – or mistreated victims, if you prefer – of the coronavirus outbreak are pubs. People who love pubs always said it was the atmosphere, not the alcohol, and people who didn’t love them thought we were just spinning them a line. Now we have proof, because we are drinking as much as we ever did and yet we complain almost constantly.

That debate has ended, anyway, because the people who miss pubs now talk only to each other. We start off complaining about the pub, then segue, almost shyly, into: “Are you managing to drink quite a lot?” “Jesus Christ, you should see the state of my recycling bin. It only got collected two days ago. Today I had to climb into it to compress the cans with my body weight.” “I actually can’t carry as much beer as I want to drink,” said one friend. “One night, I ended up buying a bottle of gin.”

Zoe Williams is a Guardian columnist