It’s back to college with Men on a Mission (Netflix), a variety talk show in which celebrity guests are mocked, set challenges and insulted by an unruly bunch of shouty, overgrown schoolboys in a classroom. Called Knowing Bros in its native South Korea (the seven schoolboys are the “brothers”), Men on a Mission is the definition of “wacky” comedy: in troop the week’s guests, pretending to be new students, to talk about themselves and prepare to be laughed at by the brothers, who giggle through revelations of personal details and tales of embarrassing mishaps and career catastrophes. Actor-musician “idols” Jung Yong-hwa and Lee Joon, two more glowing graduates of Korea’s national talent factory, were among the “students” paraded on set in a recent episode. Comprehensively guffawed at by their tormentors through loosely scripted but generally improvised tasks, they and their friends danced, tied themselves into knots in a version of Twister and played a type of charades – often while being lampooned with overlaid cartoon graphics. The brothers, themselves drawn from the fields of music, comedy, acting and, in the case of ex-basketball star Seo Jang-hoon, sport, are all about banter (rather than bullying), such good-natured joshing being the glue that holds this riotous production together. And though sounding too chaotic to be any sort of hit, its awards roll suggests its mission – whatever that is – is entirely possible. James May burns it up in new cookery show “I’m James May and I can’t cook.” So confesses our host as he welcomes viewers to the seven episodes of his cookery show, James May: Oh Cook! (Amazon Prime, series one now streaming). While the title retains the sort of laddish wordplay that might have been expected in some of his other ventures, here May – on a mission of his own – continues his graduation from the motoring shows with which he is most associated with a surprise diversion into … well, if not quite the culinary arts, then at least their nuts and bolts. If “television cooking” usually means watching odious tabloid regulars berating staff or throwing their spatulas out of the pram, or tedious cook-offs with the losers sent packing, this show is all the better for their absence. Genuinely self-deprecating or not, May is only a partial kitchen klutz: he admits to being able to make a handful of standard dishes, but under the occasional supervision of a bona fide home economist and celebrity-chef-TV adviser (who is largely kept in a walk-in cupboard), May learns to broaden his repertoire while explaining, simply, how it’s all done. His bumbling is a big part of the charm, and even this chow-challenged correspondent was inspired to have a go: for a cooking show, this represents real success. Sticking May behind the wheel of a five-burner stove comes with other features as standard. Titbits of comestible history pop up regularly: the opening helping, Asian Fusion, sheds light on how rice noodles, pad Thai and ramen came to be. Elsewhere, the story of the public house helps to fill an interlude while the oven does its thing, the secret of why Britons eat so many pies is revealed and the Italians’ passion for pasta is acknowledged, helped along by May’s butchering of the Italian language.• Stir in some scene-divider titles stolen from Woody Allen movies and several servings of mangled English poetry, and you have a winning series of half-hour forays into a discipline that no longer looks so daunting. Right, how do I turn on the gas, again? For more great stories on Korean entertainment, artist profiles and the latest news, visit K-post, SCMP's K-pop hub .