The nights are closing in, which makes it time for the gates to Downton Abbey's theme park of escapist wealth, posh frocks and Maggie Smith doing all the good bits to squeak ceremonially open and admit us twenty-first century oiks. 'Look, a tiny spoon just for hazelnuts! How darling' we gasp. 'And look! Unjust social divisions, casual racism and a patriarchy that keeps women in check. Lady Cora thus left maidless, it was time for the reappearance of saucy Edna, the understairs servant sent packing at Christmas for ignoring the rungs of social division and saucing onto Branson. Edna won't be skivvying around the Abbey with a coal scuttle this time, but grooming and anointing her ladyship. Let's hope she took the 'politely excusing yourself when interrupted brushing a lady's hair' module during her glove-stretching BTEC National, seeing as it accounts for approximately two thirds of a lady's maid's workload at Downton.
Someone who's not happy about Edna's reappearance is Mrs Hughes, who pursed her lips at the news and all but turned to the audience to declare Edna's predatory loins a ticking time bomb. Come on Hughesy it could be worse, at least she's not that one who snogged the Earl that time. More pressing for Mrs Hughes was the task of digging up a new character for series four by rifling around in Mr Carson's wastepaper bin. She came up trumps with by plucking out a wheezing old Worzel Gummidge from the workhouse, one who - very promisingly - used to be Carson's song and dance partner in his theater days. There may be bad blood between them now, but mark my words, we'll see a music hall tap duo number from Charlie Carson and friend before the series is out. Anachronistic it may be, but I'd do anything for it to be All That Jazz complete with fishnets and heels...On the subject of butlers, we spent far too much time this week with Downton's very own Charlie Brown, Mr Molesley. Julian Fellowes no doubt keen to point out that it's not only the family that lose out when a toff dies but also their staff, Molesley had to cope both with unemployment and the indignity of once again being Downton Abbey's out-of-place comic relief (I still wake up in cold sweats thinking about that cricket match). Off you go to your new life wherever it is Molesley, there's a good man.