She did Shakespeare (“He remains the best and only bard this country has ever produced”), she did Christmas (“Christmas is everywhere. On TV, on the high street – even in normally sacred places like the church”) , she did the History of Britain (“He had six wives, all named Catherine. He was a Catherine addict, or Catholic for short”) and she left Earth (“It’s hard to believe I’m in the oldest city in the world “I’m standing because I’m not.” Now we finally have Philomena Cunk in our lives.

Bolton’s best and worst-informed pundit and presenter, who first appeared on our screens in Charlie Brooker’s Weekly Wipe and played by the ever-expressionless Diane Morgan, has returned for a seasonal special that takes us through the ins and outs, about that has puzzled “humanity” for centuries and the various ways in which we have tried to make sense of our lives through art, religion and philosophy.

As always, she interviews a variety of experts “to ask some of the most important questions you can ask with your mouth.” Behind the gags is the game of figuring out how aware each of the “professional mammals” is of the parodic intent and who is playing as straight as he or she appears to be. We can be relatively certain that Brian Cox and Jim Al-Khalili know what’s going on, but I’d say there’s every chance that Cambridge University Professor of Philosophy of Religion Douglas Hedley (tweed, corduroy, Heseltine mane ) hasn’t met Cunk yet and still sits in the paneled study where she left him, pondering whether or not God is “even in closets.” But the increasing confusion displayed by Professor of Surgery at King’s College London, Prokar Dasgupta, as Cunk’s questions and claims mount (“Only 40% of people have skeletons”; “Knees are a fraud”) is turning him on either a beautiful naive or the greatest actor since Laurence Olivier. In any case, respect is appropriate. However, I would like someone from University College London to check on their English professor, Greg Dart. I think she broke him.

After leaving religion and medicine behind, she turns her attention to art. She is not a fan of Vincenzo van Beethoven Gogh. “No details on his crows,” she says, pointing to one of his wheat field paintings. “It’s actively bad. It would be better if he had never painted anything, not even a moor door in a home for the blind. Anyway, that’s my view. What do you think?” The camera pans to show the man standing on the other side of the picture – the story of University of Edinburgh art professor Richard Thomson. He may also need to be examined.

The rest is the familiar mix of jumbled facts (“Darwin rode a beagle to the Galapagos Islands, where a giant tortoise gave him an idea”), pithy turns of phrase (“a form of organized creep called worship”) and moments that go beyond Capture goes beyond mere words, such as Cunk’s face when Prof. Joyce Harper explains the human reproductive process to her. “Christ,” says Cunk. “I hope something like that never happens to me.” There’s the running joke about the release of the Belgian techno anthem Pump Up the Jam as Cunk’s main way of measuring the passage of time, and another about the tiny difference between northern pronunciation of “our souls” and the word “arseholes” Brooker and his writing team clearly think it’s too good to waste. Your mileage may vary.

We also get a lot of straight cunk commentary, which is a blessed change from the interviews for those of us with a low embarrassment threshold. It is also a joy in itself when she declares, with her usual earnest confidence, that we are all “mutated from monkey flesh,” that “female genitalia are kept indoors for safekeeping,” and that Fyodor Dostoyevsky is “the author of several books.” “I haven’t read it yet.” Later she asks what Dart would give out of 10 for Crime and Punishment. “Nine?” he whispers. I’m worried.

The show feels a bit more tacky than usual as Brooker’s personal obsessions (so many comments about Apple and its products) are revealed too often. The 70 minutes could have been shortened to an hour without losing very little – in fact, they would have gained quite a bit. But it’s impossible not to remain a fan. Morgan is unique, the jokes numerous and wide-ranging, from the slight twists by people who know exactly what the facts are and how far they can be stretched for comic effect, to “our souls.” Merry Christmas everyone.