With TV no longer an option, Alan Partridge is back where he began: on radio, ensconced in the poky confines of North Norfolk Digital, now paired with Sidekick Simon – played by comedian/poet Tim Key – to keep things modern. “This is great banter,” says Alan. “It really is.”

The radio format, in which dead air is anathema, keeps the pace brisk and the gags flowing, with plenty of laughs at the expense of local radio. “Shave my dad’s back”, “Put her on the car insurance” and “Renounce Christ” are just some of the listener answers to a Meatloaf-inspired phone-in that asked: “What wouldn’t you do for love?”

Plenty of guests roll through: high points include Julian Barratt as local luddite folksinger Blackbird Goodbrooke, and Reece Shearsmith as outspoken political commentor Jasper Jones, railing against the “placarded plebs”. Phil Cornwell makes a welcome return as fellow radio DJ Dave Clifton, chirpily dispensing tales of his drug addiction, such as when he swapped his son’s Scalextric set on Christmas Day for some cocaine, which turned out to be a packet of Daz. There’s also the brief return of the great Monica Dolan as Alan’s girlfriend Angela, who splits up with him by phone while he’s on air, causing yet another great Alan meltdown.

There’s not a lot of visual flair to it, which is unsurprising considering Mid Morning Matters was conceived in 2010 as a series of online shorts sponsored by Foster’s and aired exclusively online. It sticks, rigidly, to two camera positions in the studio, aping the radio studio webcam style, although it does occasionally bust out to a third camera in the neighbouring studio for a treat. It makes a Dogme film look like wanton extravagance.

Despite, or perhaps because of, such merciless limitations, the show – which was picked up by Sky in 2012 – thrives. While Alan’s big-screen outing, Alpha Papa, did much to open up and expand Partridge’s world, this show shrinks things down to little more than his radio origins. You could enjoy just listening to it without the picture, although you would miss Alan’s great fashion sense and some superb slapstick – such as when he is receiving a full-body massage on air, and something clearly shifts beneath his towel whenever the name of his favourite presenter, Julia Bradbury, is uttered.

The box set also includes a couple of specials, taking Alan out of the confines of the studio, for when things get too claustrophobic. Open Books sees him interviewed before a bookclub audience as he reads selections from his autobiography, I, Partridge, which you can actually buy in shops. It’s a long, funny advert for the book, something he would have been unlikely to get away with on the BBC.

Even better is Partrimilgrimage, in which Alan journeys around his beloved Norfolk (“the Wales of the east”), visiting the places and people in his life. We see him enjoying the contemplative solitude of a country walk, with the words: “A tree doesn’t judge, doesn’t criticise your clothes, or bring up poor viewing figures.”

And, for a bit of fun, a man who runs a market stall gives him a shot at selling fruit and veg, saying it’s not as easy as it looks. “Menial work,” sniffs Alan. “One of the easiest things I’ve ever done in my life.”