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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Mel O&#039;Drama" data-source="post: 158295" data-attributes="member: 23">Series Three has seen something of a new look for ...And Mother Makes Three, albeit very low profile. In addition to a re-shot title sequence, the main differences are the apparent exit of George Selway's Mr Campbell and the arrival of new-employer-cum-neighbour-cum-love-interest David Redway, played by Richard Coleman. And so the path is cleared for the new direction and the sequel series - still some ten episodes or so away.I say apparent exit of Mr Campbell, because he's still been in the first two new-format episodes, so there's been a good deal of overlap between the old and the new. None of this throwaway line stuff to explain Mr Campbell's absence. There's been a good degree of interaction between the two men, and there's something about knowing that David has Mr Campbell's seal of approval that warms the cockles.I must confess I never fully warmed to Mr Campbell. His character was functional as a straight man, but very one-note and undeveloped and so never really essential viewing. All the same, Mr Campbell was a semi-reassuring sitcom presence, so time will tell if I miss him. Incidentally, Mr Campbell was shown to be something of what would then be described as a male chauvinist pig by slapping Sally's arse as she filled his car with petrol. Not that it's any excuse, but he hadn't realised it was her as she was wearing a mask to hide her face from him, what with him recently having sacked her and all. But this was 1971, and so Sally's shock quickly turned to apparent flattery. I think I even caught a glimmer of romantic hope on her face. David Redway is something more of a romantic prospect, however. He's got the suave, ruggedly handsome thing going on while staying on the right side of smooth. His hair may be perfectly coiffed and his tie fashionably wide, but he's still pretty much just a bloke who likes books. Square jawed but with the onset of a double chin. There was an edge to him in his second episode when he was accompanied by Imogen Hassall who, to Sally's chagrin, was overly familiar and produced David's favourite cigars from between her cleavage. Fortunately for Sally, David said she was simply a former employee who became an au pair to his daughter after the death of his wife and has become too clingy with him. The jury's out on whether he's telling the whole truth but either way ...And Virginia Makes Nice would have made an interesting counter series. Lest anyone think James's Versus threads have taught me nothing, I now know that Sally and David's first encounters could be described as a series of meet cutes. First there's the Doris and Rock type phone call, where she telephones the new occupant of the house at the bottom of her garden to give him a hard time about workmen flinging rubbish into her garden ("My next complaint will be to the police"). Then he interviews her on Mr Campbell's recommendation (he's an old friend) as his bookshop will be occupying the old vets. And in she goes not realising that he's the same person she'd spoken to earlier ("I don't know what Mr Campbell said to you of course, but I think I've always satisfied him") and Sally makes a botch of shorthand and typing. Despite this he pops to the house to offer her the job, only for her to confess that she'd just smashed her new neighbour's greenhouse by flinging a boulder back into the garden ("Should I deduct the greenhouse from your first week's wages?"). The romance shows promise and I'm hoping for some wobbles as they move towards the next phase. In fact this transitionary period could prove to be the most watchable. That said, I must show love for some of the Series Two episodes. The scenarios were standard sitcom ones, but done in a delightful way. A favourite of mine was Sally visiting Mr Campbell's sister's cottage. Said sister was precious about her furniture and Sally managed to unplug the fridge while looking for the ironing board. Not finding it, she used the floor and momentarily placed the iron flat on a coffee table, leaving a huge mark. The more she tried to right it, the worse it got: moving the iron to the grate took the tile away; the electric polisher got out of control and left the table scratched (the visual of Wendy Craig grappling with the rampant polisher is one of the series' funniest so far); the varnish covered the wall, the replacement iron was the wrong colour. Sally ended up confined to her room feigning a cold in order to hide the damage. It's not just the setup of the bereaved family that makes this sitcom unique. It's the juxtaposition of Sally appearing to be gracious, reserved and capable while frequently being none of them. Her cooking is on a par with Ria's (Sally's morning routine includes five minutes to scrape the burnt bits off her blackened toast), and her klutziness is legendary. She's out of her depth in pretty much every area of her life. It's partly through circumstance - she's stretched thin on every front. But she's a fascinating character. I get the sense that part of her wants to be a 1950s housewife while another part wants to burn her bra. But in either instance the fire brigade would probably end up being called. When I think of 1970s sitcoms, it's invariably the wife that's the gracious voice of reason while the husband creates the chaos. Hilarity ensues when he loses his job, or has DIY mishaps, or gets into a dispute with neighbours, or buys an old banger to renovate. This format means that Sally gets to play out a traditionally male role and lose her dignity with the best of them. Perhaps there's something progressive about Wendy Craig's Sally.</blockquote>

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