Nippy and Nigel raise bickering to an art form.
The best thing on television is on at the viewer-friendly hour of 5.25pm. How handy. The last series of A Place in France (last night, and weeknights, TV One) was also on at a silly time.
You have to be a true fan to make sure of catching the ongoing
adventures of Nigel the Grumpy, Nippy the sulky Sikh, and Rez the Flamboyant.
We are, and have been since the first series, in which Nigel and Nippy bought and renovated an old house in the Ardeche in the South of France amid much bickering of the type usually seen only between a happily married couple.
What romps they have had since. Nigel decided to stay on in France, all the better to pursue a beautiful French girl 20 years younger than him. You knew it would end in tears. And it did, on the opening night of his Indian restaurant, the first curry house in the Ardeche.
Along the way we had the elephant. Rez rode in in style in a grand, gay publicity stunt, waving like a Maharajah to startled villagers. The elephant promptly began tearing down large branches from the very old Ardeche trees. I believe this is what is known as a culture clash.
Nippy, who had scoffed at the venture from the beginning, tsked at Nigel who, he said, couldn't even get the elephant right: it was an African elephant.
The restaurant has now collapsed. God knows why. It was an Indian restaurant in a place in France run by a moaner who can't, actually, speak much French and who thinks everybody but him is an idiot.
The last series ended with Nigel announcing he might run for mayor. His good friend, the long-suffering real estate agent, was seated at a piano when this astounding announcement was made. His response? He slammed his head on to the keys.
Never daunted, Nigel has now decided to sell the house he jointly owns with Nippy. He owes a huge amount in taxes accumulated from the now defunct restaurant. So he decides he will rent a place and run a B&B.
This is a brilliant idea. Nigel has all the skills and charm of a Basil Fawlty. He has the dreams of a Walter Mitty. If you went to stay at Nigel's B&B and complained about the food, say, you'd get a lecture about how stupid you were.
Nigel's great talent is his unshakeable belief in his own superiority. Oh, and his great gift for pomposity and his spectacular gift for moaning. Delusional doesn't even come close.
It is only this last attribute which can account for his ongoing participation in a series which makes him look all the above, and which, episode by excruciating episode, details his life as it lurches from disaster to disaster.
The B&B series promises much more of the same. Imagine this: you have saved for your perfect holiday and you turn up to find Nigel running or not running the show.
We already know he will be the host from hell. So, no surprises, but plenty of cringe-making episodes still to come.
As his real estate mate is given to shrugging in that inimitable French fashion: "The English!" Meaning: who can fathom 'em?
And who can fathom why this is so good, when Nigel is so awful? But it is. Even at 5.25pm.
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