Question Time, Fiona Bruce's first show, review: Authoritative, sceptical and with a twinkle in her eye, this was an impressive debut

What a week to start chairing our flagship topical debate programme. Fiona Bruce hopped into the Question Time hot seat amid Brexit tumult and a febrile political atmosphere. Yet she brought calmness, clarity and even some dry wit to her impressive debut.

As Bruce began the show’s new era in Islington, it was a history-making moment. She became only the fourth full-time host in 40 years and the first female to helm the venerable BBC institution, following Sir Robin Day, Peter Sissons and David Dimbleby.

Replacing Dimbleby, who received an affectionate standing ovation when he stepped down last month after a 24-year stint, Bruce confessed she was “a little daunted” and “hadn’t felt this nervous for a long time”.

She hid it well, retaining her familiar air of cool-headed composure. The only faint sign of first-night nerves was trying too hard to hold her panellists to account, intervening with spirit but perhaps a little too frequently.

Anyone who doubted the 54-year-old’s credentials or tiresomely dismissed her appointment as political correctness was soon silenced. Bruce cut her teeth on Panorama and Newsnight, has a firm grasp of current affairs after years as a news anchor and experience of grilling politicians. She’s a self-confessed news junkie and reportedly a robustly opinionated presence behind the scenes.

Within two minutes, she pulled up James Cleverly, deputy chair of the Conservative Party, when he wandered off-topic. Bruce had described her job as “making sure everyone gets a say and ensuring that politicians answer the question”. She certainly ticked those boxes.

There were rumours that producers were keen to temper the show’s bear-pit atmosphere and that Bruce’s appointment was part of that friendlier tone. These rumblings had a whiff of reductive sexism and there were few signs of such a softening.

Indeed, she gave a rougher ride to the panel’s two big-name MPs than Dimbleby would surely have done, challenging both Cleverly and Labour’s Emily Thornberry at every turn.

Cleverly in particular looked taken aback when Bruce repeatedly pressed him over the government’s plan B and made him a laughing stock among the studio audience. Her winning way with the public, as demonstrated on Antiques Roadshow, was in evidence as she expertly played the crowd.

Bruce is far funnier than she’s given credit for and also showed her lighter side while bantering with the panel’s resident wag, stand-up comedian Nish Kumar.

She has a beautifully modulated voice but deliberately deployed it in low tones, exuding quiet authority and ensuring the discussion was less about point-scoring, more about measured debate.

Proceedings became most heated over Brexit, naturally, but even more so when Kumar locked horns with columnist Melanie Phillips over the issue of knife crime in the streets of London. Bruce kept her composure, let both have their say, skilfully punctured the tension and moved on.

She was far more comfortable with the trappings of 21st century TV - appealing for social media input, reminding viewers of the official hashtag - than the fuddy-duddyish Dimbleby and more at ease managing the audience.

All in all, then, this was a highly promising inaugural episode. Authoritative when she needed to be, sceptical of flim-flam, with a twinkle in her eye. At a time when political discourse is becoming hysterical and rather rabid, Bruce could be the beacon of reason that the programme needs.

Bruce impressed BBC bosses in behind-closed-doors auditions to see off her five rivals for the job - Nick Robinson, Samira Ahmed, Emily Maitlis, Kirsty Wark and Victoria Derbyshire - and it was easy to see why.

She has a reputation as one the BBC’s safest pairs of hands and repaid the faith of those who trusted her with one the Corporation’s most high-profile gigs. Unafraid to call out politicians or kick a little butt, she might even make them raise their game.

The new host was outshone by only one person: “Yellow Jacket Lady” in the studio audience, whose measured tirade about why she didn’t feel sorry for Theresa May lit up social media and made her an instant cult heroine. If Bruce ever needs a week off, the BBC know where to look for holiday cover.