It wrung laughs from an incontinent dog, a dishwasher cutlery holder and Andrew’s reluctance to visit his father’s body at the funeral home. Targets for scorn included Facebook, hipsters, homeopathy and psychobabble about “getting closure”. The humour didn’t flinch from darkness: “There’s a music festival here every summer. It has four stages. Like cancer.”

Eighties flashbacks lent poignancy, as well as being evocatively nostalgic. The country pub was a fertile setting, with Stephen hoping to haul it upmarket via chorizo and brie paninis and “glamping” in the beer garden. A strong supporting cast delivered the sardonic dialogue with relish.

If it maintains this standard, Back might just join Channel 4 stablemates Catastrophe and Chewing Gum as one of our best home-grown sitcoms. After all, exchanges don’t get more British than: “You never told Dad you loved him?” “It never came up.”