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This exceptional episode marks a high point in British sitcoms, together with the iconic episode of Steptoe - two lags escape from prison, Leonard Rossiter playing one, wanting food and comfort, but find Albert and Harold so poor, they end up helping them and the emotion-charged end to Blackadder, when they go over the top in World War 1, fading into poppies.

Victor takes his wife and neighbour plus Mrs Warboys into the country, there's delicious ironic humour, with the playing of Out of Town in the background as they get lost on a boat, hilariously end up in the rain, scrambling into a broken down building van, with a leaky roof. Where in the morning, it transpires, Victor and Mrs Warboys' feet have got stuck in hardened concrete!

The scene where the two of them, drag their jointly concreted feet along uneven country paths, like a metaphorical chain gang brings a hint of Laurel and Hardy to the proceedings.

Eventually, we come to the classic scene - when they manage to get loose and Victor stumbles upon a care home, gains access from a confused inmate, has a shower and finds the gruff female warden in the bathroom handing him a towel - then witnesses appalling brutality, helps residents revolt and finds a way to alert the authorities, while staff are - let's say, otherwise engaged scaring off crows.

The reason this is such a critical, and emotional triumph is the ensemble acting, excellent background music, but ultimately, the dark, but meaningful, script by David Renwick.

Laughing and crying, two sides of the same coin; this highlight of sitcom excellence has not been exceeded in the 21st Century. In fact, the sitcom, these days, is sadly in exactly the geriatric state, found in that brutally run home.

What a rib-tickling gently amusing, warmly satisfying episode of this classic comedy this is. Sitcoms need both situations, characters and circumstances that interact to create laughs. The excellent storyline here concerns the need to raise £2,000 to pay for a home for needy clergy widows.

The Bishop, beautifully played by William Mervyn, receives a letter from America offering £10,000 ($25,000 - see how the exchange rate has deteriorated in 50 years!) for the 700 year old cloak of St Og, which has lain above his sarcophagus for hundreds of years - apart from one time in 1860 when it was used during an anniversary celebration.

The Dean, the stern, inimitable John Baron, opposes the sale, various twists and turns lead to the ultimate conclusion.

Derek Nimmo created the ultimate depiction of a clergyman, both in this series and Oh Brother. Robertson Hare, with his cheeky asides and predilection for the odd glass of sherry is intoxicating, even if the small glass he drinks, is less so, as an ensemble, the four principle players remind me of a the great repertory companies that used to thrive.

The setting within the Bishop's house and Cathedral is entirely authentic, Roy Kinnear plays a decent cameo as a tour guide.

All in all, the husband and wife writers created a warm, funny situation with actors who knew how to make the most of it. Highly recommended - with the appropriate small glass of sherry.

Great episode of this iconic sitcom, full of traditional British seaside postcard humour and farce: a war with the Barbarians is about to start but Lurcio and his master's peace-loving son, try to stop it.

Emulating a former Greek temptress, Tittycarter (Lurcio in drag) inspires Pompeii's women to desist from co-habit ting before the battle, thus frustrating the soldiers and encouraging peace. Would that Russian soldiers listened to similar wives and girlfriends, these days.

In a hilarious scene, Captain Bumtious tries to seduce Tittycarter to foil the plans, but discovers something unexpected in the bedroom which deters him. Thus peace is preserved.

The joint writers, Talbot Rothwell (of Carry On fame) and Sid Colin provide Frankie Howerd and the ensemble with a great, teasing script, lots of ham-acting (I don't want to die, not die....at least not on stage!).

Wallace Eaton in armour is not exactly a shoe-in for Gladiator, but plays the bumbling Senator well and there are a few visible half-laughs from Bumtious as he chases around, trying to unfrock and deflower the leader of the revolt.

Socrates, Aristotle and Plato would not necessarily derive any lessons from this romp - and in truth, the Roman Empire and its' successors have not, exactly, been paragons of peace. But as a solid half hour of comedy, produced in this instance by Sidney Lotterby, not David Croft, to plagiarise the old jaw, jaw, not war, war, on this occasion, laugh, laugh, don't fight, fight.