The plot of this generic Dickens work had been dreadfully bowdlerised and it was no surprise to me that it had been snuck into the BBC2 schedules with no fanfare.

Part Mr Fezziwig’s ball, part Strictly Come Dancing and part X Factor I couldn’t imagine anyone being persuaded that this teenager, aged using talcum powder in his hair, should be playing the lawyer in this courtroom scene. Combined with the shameful choreography (climbing up a ladder on the stage to represent a life going nowhere) the whole programme was stinking out my living room. Fortunately, the flavour of my chilled cranberry juice was making life worth living.