As if your correspondent hadn’t experienced enough existential horror watching the Kildare footballers suffer a ten-point NFL mauling by Dublin on Setanta Sports, he spent a fair proportion of the past fortnight getting to grips with True Detective, the smash HBO series noted for its pessimistic world view.

It has become the thing to say in True Detective reviews that it easily deserves a place in the television pantheon alongside The Wire, The Sopranos, Breaking Bad etc as one of the best series of recent years, although whether this stands up to scrutiny or – perish the thought – is merely a case of kneejerk critical consensus is open to debate. For a start, the show (which has recently commenced its Irish run on Sky Atlantic) shares a remarkable number of similarities with NBC’s Hannibal, including the police procedural format, horror influences and a surreal mood reminiscent of David Lynch. Hell, they even both have the same deer antler motif.

With all of that in mind, one can’t help but wonder if the presence of the HBO logo automatically gains programmes extra credibility with critics – a point made in a thoughtful piece on True Detective by The New Yorker’s Emily Nussbaum who also pointed out that this is one series which would spectacularly fail the Bechdel test. For all that, there's no doubting that True Detective is an excellent show – Matthew McConaughey’s portrayal of the intense, nihilistic Rust Cohle is inspired, and the scripts by newcomer Nic Pizzolatto nicely (well, nastily) mix elements of noir and horror.

For me, though, the true star of the series is Cary Fukunaga’s brilliant direction – the genuinely nightmarish mood he conjures from New Orleans’ gothic landscape (creepy forests, eerie bayous and decrepit industrial plants) is astonishing. In addition, the use of music is brilliant, and the six-minute tracking shot which closes episode four is one of the greatest action sequences ever filmed. But does True Detective have the depth of either The Sopranos or The Wire (or even for that matter, Boardwalk Empire)? The jury is out…

On a far lighter note, the past fortnight saw Graham Linehan’s new comedy The Walshes complete its short three-show run. Though failing to scale the heights of Linehan’s best work, there were some wonderful moments in the series (particularly from Owen Roe as family friend Martin), and plenty to suggest that there's a lot of life in this effort co-created by homegrown comedy troupe Diet Of Worms.

It's also heartening that such an exceptional talent as Linehan has returned to working on an Irish-set show. Could we finally hope for a dedicated RTÉ comedy department devoted to nurturing Irish writers and performers? It would certainly seem a cash cow for the broadcaster given the remarkable success of Irish comedy over the past 25 years.

Returning for a third series of barbed cultural observations is cult stand-up Stewart Lee, whose Comedy Vehicle has been showcasing his meta gags, jaundiced social commentary and surreally tangential riffs on BBC Two on Saturday nights. Lee still has a weakness for the occasional bout of aimless rambling, but Comedy Vehicle has, if anything, improved this time round, thanks to Chris Morris’ interrogations of the comic, which punctuate the show. Unlike the comedy generations which came before and after, the Lee/Morris axis defiantly eschew cosiness, with all subjects proving fair game (including, refreshingly, fellow comics – Lee having a well-aimed dig at Lee Mack in episode one). Contrarian to the last, Lee remains an essential comedic voice. Two other veteran comedy performers who have also been delivering the goods are The League Of Gentlemen’s Reece Shearsmith and Steve Pemberton, whose BBC Two anthology series, Inside No 9, was a potent reminder of the brilliantly observed dark comedy that made the League such a revelation all of 15 years ago. Indeed, I would argue that The Office is the only UK sitcom to have matched it in that time, and certainly, the continued success of Pemberton and Shearsmith (who created Inside No 9 as a follow-up to the similarly superb Psychoville), as well as Mark Gatiss (the co-creator of Sherlock), suggests that the League was a collection of especially gifted individuals.

No doubt if they were a band, the reunion offers would be flooding in…