Wilfred. I know it's been going on long enough to have spawned an American version which probably isn't as good. Still, it's made me laugh - actually laugh as in the involuntary bodily movement meaning of the word - more than anything in quite a while. Obviously you all know this already but, for the benefit of the one person who's even less "in touch" than me, this is how it works.
Sarah has a dog called Wilfred. As far as she's concerned he's a regular dog - "Alsatian, bit of Lab, angry," she reports whenever he goes missing - with normal dog habits - wishes to sleep on the end of the bed, digs up the garden, eats everything. But her new boyfriend Adam comes to see Wilfred as we see him - as a six foot tall, dope-smoking slacker in a dog suit.
Once you've accepted that premise, which took me no time at all, you realise that dog behaviour, which is much like male behaviour minus the thin veneer of sophistication, is more often than not funny. Example: wishing to chase the ducks on the lake but being scared of getting wet, Wilfred confines himself to patrolling the shore shouting "C'mere, I want to tell you something."
There's a bonus. All standard male behaviour - sorting out his DVDs, sitting on the sofa pontificating, showing off in front of another male - is automatically funny once it's performed by a bloke wearing a dog suit.
I can't promise you'll find it as funny as I did - but you might.