Ruth Jones (I)

After seeing Ruth Jones play Nessa in Gavin & Stacey on BBC1, switch channels to catch her in this charming comedy about a child's Christmases during the 1980s.

She plays a mum so houseproud she stacks her towels in order, measures sliced carrots and washes the soap. Back then her OCD was better known as housekeeping.

Michael Sheen narrates as her now grown-up son, Owen. He looks back at three Christmases, when his mum fussed, his dad vegged out on the sofa, his competitive uncle Huw bragged about his latest success, and his other uncle, Gorwel, lived up to a waste-of-space reputation.

For anyone who grew up in the 80s, it's a nostalgic reminder, especially when Huw gives Maurice a state-of-the-art Sinclair ZX Spectrum then spends the day trying to load a game from temperamental and nerve-shredding shrieking tapes.

Ruth Jones of Gavin & Stacey fame is the obvious draw in this adaptation of Dylan Thomas's look back at Christmases past, but perhaps just as interesting is that it is written by Mark Watson, the stand-up comedian who's also popped up as host on Never Mind the Buzzcocks and been something of a regular on Mock the Week. Thomas's nostalgic take on Christmas has been refashioned by Watson for 1980s south Wales, creating a comedic tale about ways in which Yuletide brings out the best and worst in a family.

Inspired by Dylan Thomas's nostalgic anecdotal tale, Mark Watson's observant comedy is set in the household of young Owen Rhys (Oliver Bunyan/Mark Williams) over a series of Christmases in 1980s South Wales. Every year, the peace of the family home, where Owen lives with his gloomy father (Mark Lewis Jones) and obsessive mother (Ruth Jones), is disturbed by the yuletide arrival of Owen's two uncles (Steve Speirs and Paul Kaye) and nephew (Jamie Burch/Rhys McLellan). In a glimpse of three of these gatherings, while Owen and Maurice are seen maturing into young men, their male elders merely engage in ever-more puerile bouts of sibling rivalry.

Ruth Jones on A Child's Christmases in Wales

Gavin & Stacey's Ruth Jones salutes Dylan Thomas, Wales - and inoffensive comedy.

The BBC's hit comedy Gavin & Stacey was back with its winning formula of gooey romance, slapstick angst and recurring logistical challenge of getting a vast ensemble of Essex and Welsh people into the same room without it seeming odd. Perhaps that's its genius. This week they solved it with a christening party, adding yet more characters. Here was Nessa's dad and Smithy's mother (Pam Ferris, looking like she'd slept in a skip), and Ewan Kennedy was cracking as the new baby, Neil - strapped facing outwards on Nessa's back. "That's so I can smoke," she drawled.

The Welsh steal this show, led by Ruth Jones as Nessa - gnomic, brusque, experienced - alongside her spiritual opposite, Bryn (Rob Brydon), garrulous, sentimental and unworldly. I don't know about the Billericay element. Alison Steadman is a bit of a pantomime grotesque as Gavin's mum, and Smithy's Byronic laments for Gav - now installed in his new job in Cardiff - are fast losing their charm. I'm all in favour of a man expressing his feelings but if Smithy were my best mate I think I'd have to move farther than Wales.

All the same, I was interested to see whether the gentle BBC series, which returned last week for a third and final series, would have shed a little fairy dust in the aftermath of the lamentable solo efforts of James Corden and Mathew Horne. It didn't take long, however, to be reminded that neither actor has ever been a main draw among the superlative cast (though credit goes to Corden as co-writer). The action has shifted to Barry Island, which will please fans of Ruth Jones's brilliantly deadpan Nessa and Rob Brydon's Uncle Bryn - a caricature, but an excellent one.

The christening of Nessa and Smithy's son provides the excuse to lure the Essex contingent over the border, and the seeds are planted early for what promises to be a warm and fuzzy finale. No surprises perhaps, but for the home straight, I'm perfectly happy with more of the same.

Their sketch show was an obnoxious, homophobic mess, so it's probably wise that Mathew Horne and James Corden have returned in the show that first made them popular, Gavin & Stacey. The first episode of this final series was like a warm bath: slightly eccentric characters, love and empathy bubbling around the intertwined lives of three families. Gavin has moved to Wales to work and live with Stacey and was bored. His first day at work was littered with grating, if sweet, interventions - balloons, phone messages, a packed lunch from Rob Brydon's Uncle Bryn - which delighted his new, and yes kooky, colleagues.

You can see why Gavin & Stacey is universally loved: the dialogue is carefully colloquial, everyone has their turn, it affirms family and friendship, has a dark edge - but for this viewer there is a sense of old tricks being recycled. Everyone's quirks ("What's occurrin'?") are so well-worn they have lost their magic.

The only distinctive performances are Ruth Jones's monotone Nessa, with baby (who is with her though concealed at all times) and the marvellous, foul-mouthed Doris/Dor (Margaret John) who stuck two fingers up at the expectation that she'd make salad for the christening party. You should root for Corden's Smithy, father of Nessa's baby and trying to find a role for himself now his best friend has moved away and the mother of his child is with a new partner, but he's supremely irritating and unfunny.

Legend has it James Corden and Ruth Jones thought long and hard about the whys and wherefores and the what's occurrings involved in a third series of Gavin & Stacey (BBC1). As it stood, they had two perfectly formed series and one special, so cult status was assured. Stretch it out and the danger was it could all go a bit My Family. So it was a relief to find that, at least in parts, the charms of G&S - not just a sitcom, but an Anglo-Welsh melange of social integration, drizzled with dollops of juicy profanity - were still cooking with gas. With Gavin relocated to Wales for work, there was scope for surreal culture shock.

When a new colleague introduced himself with the words: 'My name is Owain Hughes. And before you ask, no I don't,' you shared his fish-out-ofwater befuddlement - unless you were Uncle Bryn, in which case you found it hilarious. It must be a Welsh thing. The story picked up with the christening of Nessa and Smithy's baby, an ideal excuse to throw the two halves of the G&S extended family together. And that was where the niggles started: when you wanted to get reacquainted with the principal players, the focus kept shifting to a ragbag of minor characters who were little more than sitcom sketches. Bringing in Nessa's dad and Smithy's mum (Pam Ferris) over-egged a pudding already threatening to collapse under the weight of its wacky ingredients. The best of Gavin & Stacey is in the little details, the laugh or cry moments. But at times here, the comedy was drawn with a broader brush, built around a succession of conventions written in the sitcom rulebook. Funny, es, but more like a succession of g ags and comedy observations than the flesh and blood reality it felt like before. Which inspired mixed feelings - it's undoubtedly good to have Gavin & Stacey back but, on this evidence, it's going to be a little easier to say hello and wave goodbye than you might have thought.

I can see why people like Gavin & Stacey, I really can. It's warm. It's cuddly. It's the celluloid equivalent of on a mug of tea and a slab of Dairy Milk. And it really is all of those things - Joanna Page, who plays Stacey is cute as a button, just Bridget-Jonesy enough for us empathise with, the type of lass any well-brought-up young girl would want to be friends with. And Mat Horne (Gavin) is, for want of a better word, fit. In a safe way. And well dressed, with the not-at-all-bad-looking Page as his girlfriend, so mothers like him and men have a degree of grudging respect for him. And then there's James Corden, who plays Gavin's best mate, Smithy, and everyone knows that James Corden's lovely. So yes: as Bob Hope would say, what's not to like?

Except, erm, I'm afraid I don't. Like it, that is. I like Ruth Jones, aka the indomitable Nessa, fag-smoking, drink-swilling best friend of - inexplicably - Stacey. But that's all. At least Nessa's funny, a quality which, it's worth pointing out, is rather useful when it comes to a comedy show. But apart from her, I can't fathom one of them. Not even Bryn, played with aplomb by Rob Brydon. He's too nice. Far, far too nice. They all are. The whole thing is. It's so nice, you cease to care. It becomes... elevator music.

But anyway, what do I know? Clearly, nothing. Seven million people watched the Christmas special last year, and seven million can't be wrong. Can they? Anyway, last night was the start of the third (and last) series, which saw Gavin settling into his new job in Barry, while the Essex crowd geared up for the christening of Smithy and Nessa's baby, named - wait for it - Neil Noel Edmond Smith. One of the few laugh-out loud jokes of the episode. Any Gavin & Stacey fan would have been thrilled, I'm sure. All the usual bumf was there: Stacey freaking out over an article she's read in Psychologies magazine, Bryn popping his head through Gavin's office window, Smithy ordering enough food for an entire army. Me? Well, like I said. Elevator music. Pleasant enough, no plans to buy the album.

Gavin & Stacey's journey from cult viewing to national treasure (seven million watched their Christmas Eve special last year) has been the stuff of fairy tales. When so few sitcoms cross over to be national hits, it's the kind of success that should lead to a string of series and bonanza DVD sales for years to come. Instead, writers James Corden and Ruth Jones are putting their gift horse out to pasture, so enjoy this third series (assuming they don't relent - we can cross fingers for more Christmas specials) while it lasts. It starts well, with Gavlah getting a culture shock at his new job in Barry (look out for his misunderstanding of "seven-a-side") and Stace hooked on Psychologies magazine. They're gearing up, along with everyone else, for the Christening of Smithy and Nessa's baby, the unfortunately named Neil Noel Edmond Smith. It's the kind of eccentric set-piece occasion the series pulls off a treat. The high point involves Bryn launching into inappropriate song from the altar, backed by Doris from next door on drums. It's a priceless moment, beautifully performed, as ever, by Rob Brydon as Bryn.