As outpourings of grief go, the offerings in the wake of Robin Williams’ apparent suicide have been fairly joyful.

For the past ten days, Twitter and the news have been alive with clips of Williams’ dizzyingly vibrant roles on television and film, with the meme of students standing on desks chanting ‘O Captain! My captain!’ (in honour of his role as Mr Keating in Dead Poets Society) has gone viral.

And if, like me, you’ve found yourself hankering for a slice of Williams’ sometimes silly, often manic, always moving presence, you’re in luck as repeats of his greatest will be sprinkled through the British telly schedules for the rest of the year. But which is your favourite?

Good Morning Vietnam (1987) shown on Saturday night was a real blast from the past – as shock jock DJ Adrian Cronauer, Williams tore up the script with his mad improv style while also managing to convey dignity and gravity – not an easy feat.

It seems some of Williams’ performances are now being analysed posthumously as if they were always aching with meaning and portent. But, when Williams burst on to the stand-up circuit of California in the 1970s (Catch Alcohol and Marijuana live on YouTube for a flavour), he went headlong for the dark, taboo topics, so this kind of hindsight is a bit wonky.

Humour often comes from a dark place and a cocktail of demons, drugs and depression is often the diet for the best comics there are.

He might look cuddly (especially in a massive padded bra and glasses as Euphegenia in Mrs Doubtfire, undoubtedly my fave), but Williams was one of the best and most savage comedians of his generation, with a quick and stinging line in dealing with any hecklers (‘another reason to legalise abortion in America!’, he snaps at one). Williams told Parkinson that stand-up was “cheaper than therapy”, and gave him a way to release his pent-up energy and emotions.

BBC2 tomorrow screens a darker side than normally remembered: Insomnia (2002) in which Williams fills a straight role in a thriller opposite Al Pacino as a troubled cop.

But, if you’re child of the 1980s, it’s inevitable Mork & Mindy made an impact on you in some way. And that role started with a moment of such television gold, it almost sounds like parody: Mork met The Fonz at The Cunninghams’ house as a pop-up cameo in Happy Days (and Williams did it standing on his head, as you do). Mork & Mindy (with Pam Dawber, his friend until the end) was written to accommodate Williams’ interplanetary improv and ran from 1978 to 1982, turning him into a superstar. One clip, screened at the end of Newsnight last week, had me in tears, with Mork reporting back to Nanu Nanu on his short time spent on earth, declaring how he’s had fun and, hopefully, cheered up many lives (blub).

Like all the most interesting people, he always liked a challenge – before he starred in Moscow on the Hudson (1984) as Vladimir Ivanoff, he had to take crash courses in both Russian and saxophone.

As The Genie in Aladdin (1992), a cartoonish Williams ad-libbed most of the lines. He claimed to have done this film for his kids, and refused to accept any of the proceeds from all the surrounding Disney merchandise. A special Golden Globe was created to honour his performance and you’d have to check your pulse if this performance didn’t move you at all.

With the rare ability to make audiences laugh and cry, you can bet he has a place in most viewers’ hearts and there will be many more outings.

Insomnia, BBC2, 11pm tomorrow

Stand-up examples from 1970s:

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