Shameless

The comedy drama celebrates its 100th episode tonight. It's become standard to say Chatsworth Estate isn't the place it used to be. Its survival however is down to outlandish but inventive storylines and crackpot characters that compel. Creator Paul Abbott pens this birthday outing. Elderly barmaid Cynthia (Beatrice Kelley) strikes gold on a scratch card and is promptly assaulted. Evidence points to Frank (David Threlfall) who looks set for a spell inside. Things look up when Kev (Dean Lennox Kelly) returns to take charge.

Seven years after the Chatsworth Estate became a byword for the skanky English underclass, Shameless notches up its 100th episode, written by Paul Abbott.

It's a 90-minute saga that sees Frank Gallagher (David Threlfall) banged up and demonised by his neighbours for a terrible crime he didn't commit.

Or at least he's pretty sure that he didn't: his memory of what actually happened on the night in question is, as ever, a bit on the hazy side.

With Abbott at the controls, Shameless's uniquely picturesque dialogue ­practically qualifies as a regional dialect in its own right - shot through with lashings of swearing, of course, as well as colourful metaphors, in jokes, shorthand and slang that you only half understand, plus some hilariously unlikely insults: "You ginger- haired hanging basket," being one of the few that's actually fit to print.

With his dad in the frame, it's left to Carl Gallagher (Elliott Tittensor) to man up and try to seize control of the situation. But he's going to need some help. His old neighbour Kev (Dean Lennox Kelly) fits in like he's never been away.

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Dean Lennox Kelly interview

As Shameless celebrates its 100th episode, TV Choice talks to Dean Lennox Kelly, who was last seen as Kev Ball four years ago.

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Shameless is back and - I read somewhere - approaching its 100th episode. I hadn't watched for quite a while, having tired of its slightly callow celebration of amorality, and at first glance it looked in good spirits, as jubilant about misrule and fecklessness as it was in the first series. After a while, though, the misbehaviour began to seem a little strained again. And in the aftermath of the riots, you can't help wondering just a little bit about its approving relish for social delinquency. I know that's what's supposed to be on offer here - a tantalising glimpse of the happy bacchanal that lies just on the other side of the door marked Conscience. But even so it can grate. Last night's jolly escapades included the sale of ex-IRA guns to local gangsters ("See you love... take care," said Mimi cheerily, as a customer walks away with an AK47), disability-benefit fraud, murder, the near-rape of two strippers by a boozed-up stag party (only averted when the lairiest of the stags is shot in the leg), and, the cherry on top, two gangsters threatening a child until he weeps with fear. Pervasive throughout, and effectively endorsed by the narrative, is the idea that any contact with the police is "grassing". What's more, kindly sentiment is almost as rare as a sense of civic duty. Characters occasionally clamp together in desperate congress, but a far more typical exchange would be Frank's groggy riposte to his ex-wife's mother: "You lying, twisted, piss-stained old fraud." There's a difference between a fiction about people who never think about consequences and a fiction that pretends those consequences don't exist, and I wonder whether Shameless hasn't crossed over to the lesser of the two.

The second half of series eight resumes in typically chaotic, over-stimulated fashion, with scenes flung together like custard pies in the face of respectability.

After his wife Libby legged it, leaving her mum Patty to cast a cloud over the Chatsworth estate, Frank has even more reason than usual to feel sorry for himself.

And Paddy Maguire returns home in a coffin, although reports of his death may be exaggerated.

The Maguires branch out into wildly differing businesses - gunrunning and kids' parties. The weirdest plot concerns Karen's unlikely business as a children's entertainer. It turns out Jamie has a clown phobia and by the end he won't be the only one.

And wheelchair-bound Patty tackles Mimi about disabled access in the Jockey in a demonstration that almost turns into a riot.

Shameless, Channel 4, review

James Walton reviews Paul Abbott's Manchester-set drama which returned for the second half of its eighth series.

From Shameless to Wayne's world for Ciaran Griffiths

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The half million or so viewers currently enjoying Shameless US get the chance to compare it with the original, and frankly better, version of Paul Abbott's rip-roaring drama. There's delight to be had watching nascent stars Anne-Marie Duff and James McAvoy blossom in their roles of proud matriarch Fiona Gallagher and her car-stealing suitor, Steve. Their cat-and-mouse romancing is instantly believable - perhaps because it was real; Duff and McAvoy married shortly after leaving the series. While we can praise the youngsters, there is only really one star of the show. David Threlfall's Frank Gallagher is a shambling whirlwind of a character; a barely coherent pub philosopher, you almost catch the reek of stale beer, smoke, vomit and urine each time he stumbles on screen. Which is a good thing, by the way.