Unless your head's been stuck in the sand - or up the slopes - you can't have avoided the hype surrounding Mad Men.
And it's deserved: this is great television; beautifully filmed. Lines like, "What you call love was invented by guys like me, to sell nylons," show the sharpness of Matthew Weiner's writing. There's all the excess you would associate with Madison Avenue in 1960 (even if you weren't there; even if you weren't even born).
The New York Times sums it up: "There were seven deadly sins practiced at the dawn of the 1960s: smoking, drinking, adultery, sexism, homophobia, anti-Semitism and racism. In its first few minutes, Mad Men taps into all of them."
And into this world, the history of brands - from the ad-men's confusion at the Volkswagen Think Small campaign to Lucky Strike's It's Toasted slogan (pedants: it may have been invented in the 40s, it still works here!) - is interwoven. But beneath the hedonism is a plot about personal identity that isn't bound by era or industry - though turning slowly insane in suburbia seems a lot more romantic in an elegant frock. Well, certainly more romantic than facing thwarted dreams while dressed in some dodgy old tracksuit.
We've been lucky enough to have a sneak preview of the rest of series: look out for episode nine where McCann gets a mention as it sharks for talent from rivals. We were tickled.
So that's Sunday nights sorted for a while.
