Life on Mars gestated for [8?] long years before finally reaching the screen, to terrific popular and critical acclaim. It was worth the wait. When DI Sam Tyler is catapulted back into a world where skinny jeans were the last word in uncool after a car crash, he encounters the sexism, boorishness and all-round ma-cheese-mo of policing, 70s-style. And it’s a world where feminism means an extra blast of disco hairspray and another coat of blue mascara, and where political correctness still means no dodgy ballots. What’s worse, whilst Sam suffers spooky encounters from the telly test card girl and hears the hospital bleeps from the present day, his new boss, DCI Gene Hunt, is having none of his poncey ways. Whilst the two aim to forge a professional relationship and solve the crimes which might lead Sam back to now, we enjoy the guilty pleasures of a world where women were ‘skirt’, pints were warm and Ford Cortinas skidded like Starsky’s.