The Panel Show Is Telly's Best-Kept Secret — and 2026 Is the Year to Bring It Back

There’s a certain type of telly that doesn’t ask much of you. You can join halfway through, miss a week, come back next series, and still feel like you’ve had a proper night in. I’m talking about the British panel show: the low-stakes, high-personality format that has been quietly doing its thing while the rest of television has been busy trying to turn every programme into a cinematic universe.

In 2026, we’re spoiled for choice and starved of ease. Streaming services push you towards the next big thing, the next binge, the next algorithm-approved obsession. But a good panel show is the opposite of all that. It’s a chat, a quiz, a bit of nonsense and a lot of personality. And I think it’s due a proper revival.

The format that refuses to be fancy

The panel show is television’s equivalent of a good pub table. You don’t need a complicated set, a serialised plot or a post-credits teaser. You need a host who can keep things moving, a couple of team captains who know how to play off each other, and a handful of comedians who are happy to be silly in public. That’s it. That’s the magic.

Shows like Would I Lie to You? have turned that simple idea into a comfort blanket. The format is almost aggressively modest: people read out claims, everyone argues about whether they’re true, and somebody usually ends up looking ridiculous. But the pleasure comes from the personalities. David Mitchell’s mounting indignation, Lee Mack’s quick-fire interruptions, Rob Brydon’s amused ringmaster act — it’s a formula, yes, but it’s a formula that lets funny people be funny.

Then there’s Mock the Week. It’s no longer making new episodes, but the repeats still have a pulse. Watching old clips is a reminder of how well the panel show can handle the news without turning into a lecture. It’s irreverent, fast and occasionally chaotic. It doesn’t pretend to be journalism. It’s a bunch of clever people mucking about with the week’s headlines, and that’s exactly why it works.

Why 2026 is the right moment

We’ve spent years being told that television has to be bigger, longer and more expensive. Every streaming service wants a flagship drama, a true-crime documentary that everyone talks about, or a reality format with a twist. And fair enough — some of that stuff is great. But there’s a gap in the market for something that doesn’t demand a commitment.

Panel shows are anti-algorithm telly. You don’t need to start at episode one. You don’t need to remember a lore bible. You can watch a repeat on a Tuesday night, laugh at a stupid answer, and go to bed. In a landscape where everyone is fighting for your attention with increasingly elaborate hooks, that low-stakes quality feels almost radical.

They’re also remarkably repeatable. A good panel show clip can be watched a dozen times and still work, because the joy is in the delivery, the reaction, the pause before the punchline. That’s why clips from Would I Lie to You? and 8 Out of 10 Cats Does Countdown keep circulating. They’re not just television; they’re little social objects you can send to a friend with a two-word message.

And in 2026, with so much telly feeling either very serious or very manufactured, there’s something appealing about a format that just lets people talk. It’s cheap to make, it’s quick to turn around, and it gives new comedians a chance to shine alongside established names. Commissioners keep looking for the next big thing. Sometimes the next big thing is a bunch of people sitting around a desk.

Moments that prove the point

You can’t defend the panel show without getting specific. Bob Mortimer on Would I Lie to You? is the obvious starting point. His stories are so beautifully absurd that the panel spends half the time trying to work out whether he’s a genius or a menace. The dentistry story, the theft and shrubbery anecdote, the sheer commitment to the bit — it’s the kind of telly that makes you put your tea down.

Then there’s Claudia Winkleman, who can make a deadpan aside feel like the funniest thing you’ve heard all week. Romesh Ranganathan’s gloomy exasperation is a gift. Aisling Bea’s mischievous energy can derail a whole round in the best way. And on the more gentle end of the scale, Richard Osman’s House of Games has shown that a panel show doesn’t have to be loud to be funny. It can be warm, clever and quietly competitive.

Have I Got News for You is still doing its thing, QI still has that lovely rambling quality, and Taskmaster — panel-adjacent, I’ll admit — has proved that the formula of funny people doing odd tasks can travel. But the point isn’t to list every show. It’s to recognise that the format has range. It can be satirical, silly, gentle or chaotic. It just needs the right people.

A note to commissioners

If the panel show is going to have a proper revival in 2026, it shouldn’t come back as a bloated, over-produced version of itself. The temptation is always to add more: more celebrities, more games, more noise. But the best panel shows feel like a good conversation that happens to be on telly. They’re not trying too hard.

What would a smart revival look like? A midweek slot that isn’t afraid to be quiet. A mix of established comics and newer voices. A studio audience that’s there to laugh, not to be part of the format. Less shouting, more personality. And maybe a few more regional accents — because the best panel shows have always sounded like Britain, not just a London media bubble.

The comfort blanket deserves a comeback

I’m not saying the panel show is the only good thing on telly. I’m not even saying it’s the best thing. But it’s one of the most reliable, and reliability has become underrated. In a world of endless content, there’s something genuinely lovely about a show that just wants to make you laugh for half an hour.

So yes, I think the British panel show is due a 2026 revival. Not because we’re nostalgic for the old days, but because the format still works. It’s cheap, it’s clever, and it reminds us that television doesn’t always have to be an event. Sometimes it can just be a good laugh with some funny people. And honestly, that might be exactly what we need.