PERENIALLY KNOCKED yet persistently nifty sitcom warhorse blessed with one of the greatest TV themes ever (wah-wah guitar…tooting saxophone…synth drums…weird bbbaaaooooowwww sounds – this had everything) and constituting a sterling second source of income for RONNIE CORBETT. Timothy Lumsden (sporting, in retrospect ill-advisedly, permed hair) works in a library, rides and moped and still lives at home with battleaxe matriachal monster Phyllis (BARBARA LOTT, and she did) and simpering under-the-thumb father Sidney (WILLIAM MOORE, and we didn’t). And that was it. Tim tries to find a steady girlfriend. His mum cocks it up. Eggy soldiers for breakfast. “Mother, I’m 47!” Sister Muriel shaking her head in pity. “Language Timothy!” “Sorry father”. Pints of bitter down the uber-sitcom local with best mate Frank. Appalling cooking. Equally appalling pop culture references. Sappy girlfriends called Jennifer. Finally ended with our man fleeing the family bosom and marrying Pippa, last shot capturing Ron making a Thelma and Louise-esque jump betwixt tenth-floor hotel balconies.