THE REPAIR SHOP (BBC1, Wednesday) has a wholesome format, seemingly inspired by Bagpuss. Aged and precious items are taken to a mock-up repair shop to be fixed and made new. Each item comes with a personal story — of which some are incredibly moving and poignant, and others . . . not so much.

The programme has a similar feel to Hidden Treasures of the National Trust, which also features a team of experts with niche skillsets, who restore priceless artefacts of historical value. While the items on The Repair Shop may not have the same public significance, they are deeply meaningful for the individuals connected to them. There is also something innately satisfying about taking a ragged, dirty, and damaged item and restoring it to its former glory.

This episode included the sad but lovely story of World Cup Willie, a mascot from the 1966 World Cup. Sixty years on, Willie is described as having a ravaged face and floppy limbs — much like viewers, probably, during the heatwave.

Willie (a lion, of course) is brought in by Steph, who acquired him while attending every England match in the 1966 tournament with her future husband, Chris. After his death from an asthma attack when their daughter was just nine months old, the soft toy gained extra poignancy.

This tragedy aside, the success of the programme doesn’t rest on the personal narratives, which can sometimes feel a little contrived. It is about the process of repair and the cleverness of the craftsmanship. Some broken things will always remain broken. When something can be fixed, it’s joyfully affirmative.

Rik Mayall: Magnificent B’Stard (now streaming on Sky Go) is a feature-length portrait of the beloved comic, who died in 2014, aged just 56. Using the scrapbook-style animation now fashionable in bio-documentaries, combined with archive footage and audio, this programme is preserved from shallowness by the candid reflections of the contributors. Included are Mayall’s adult children, plus stars of comedy such as Ben Elton, Sir Stephen Fry, and, of course, Adrian Edmondson, who is devastatingly honest about his fractured relationship with his former comedy partner and best friend.

Mayall began as part of the alternative comedy scene in the 1980s. He was loved for his manic energy, violent slapstick, and “adrenaline shot to comedy”. This was best exemplified by the ’90s anti-sitcom Bottom, which was like The Itchy and Scratchy Show meets Waiting for Godot.

Edmondson’s grief is palpable. After tension caused them to cease working together, he reflects, “we never repaired what our relationship was.” Complex hearts, unlike soft toys, cannot always be mended.