Dinnerladies
Set in the canteen of a factory in Manchester, these two BBC series follow the day-to-day antics of it's workers. Writer and star Victoria Wood has assembled a formidable array of character actors to portray an eclectic mix of characters to ensure that there are a plethora of daft scenarios to explore across the sixteen episodes. Everyone works for the cancer-suffering "Tony" (Andrew Dunn) who has a bit of a crush on supervisor "Brenda" (Wood). Then there are best pals "Dolly" (Thelma Barlow) and "Jean" (Anne Reid); dander-wielding handyman "Stan" (Duncan Preston) and then the two youngsters - the glass half empty "Twinkle" (Maxine Peake) and the not-so-bright "Anita" (Shobna Gulati). Each episode tends to give one of those their moment in the sun, but it's the collegiate nature of the comedy that really works here. There are loads of barbed remarks, the men hopelessly outnumbered, outgunned and outwitted by these women who think nothing of discussing their most intimate problems across the shepherd's pie. The dialogue is distinctly grown up, with plenty of references to pelvic floors, buns of lard and even vulcanised rubber. Julie Walters rekindles her successful relationship with Wood as her caravan-living mother "Petula" as does Celia Imrie as the hapless but well meaning HR officer "Philippa" and both add enormously to the observationally witty richness of this drama that uses the team and the setting as a perfect conduit for some stories that probably touch most of us. It's the dynamic between Barlow and Reid that works best with me - especially when they are taking hips and germicidal hand cream, but just about everyone has the ammunition to make you smile more often than not. If I am honest, I preferred the first season where the humour was grittier and more entertaining. The second series turned in on itself a little with too much emphasis on their romances, but taken together this is great example of a well written and professionally executed sitcom series that mixes some expert comedy timing, some stereotypical ribbing and generally lots of fun amongst appliances that spit fat.