Even if you’ve never actually watched Midsomer Murders on TV, you probably know it’s filmed round here, who it stars, even some of the plotlines. Like The Archers, it’s seeped into the fabric of British life, gaining National Treasure status. This was helped in its infancy by John Nettles, a treasure himself, but I’m happy to report that what this stage show lacks in Nettles, it surpasses in every other aspect, and even if you’re lukewarm about the small screen version you should go and delight in its new incarnation.

All the characters are larger than life, except for the police, who almost stay still while the cast and plot revolve around them. Daniel Casey (the first hapless sergeant in the TV show) has graduated and been renamed, now appearing as CDI Tom Barnaby. He was thoughtful and brought the gravitas, though personally I’d have liked him to be more exasperated - he looked like he was enjoying himself too much! His own hapless Sergeant Troy (James Bradwell) was suitably idiotic, and we got his terrible driving too. He also got possibly one of the best lines. "Pablo Pic-ass-hole" may not be the cleverest epithet ever, but it was perfectly delivered, and one I think I may adopt.

All the rest of the cast played multiple parts, which gave us a glimpse of John Dougall’s character range (if he’s playing a panto Dame this Christmas I want to see it, distance no object!) and some fabulous quick changes, especially for Chandrika Chevli as Barbara Lessiter the doctor’s wife, and Dickie Whiteley the gamekeeper, in a scene with her/himself. Playing for laughs gave full rein to the grotesque and caricaturish, which fitted with the unsavouriness of the multiple crimes.

In fact this production shared the best of panto’s DNA throughout - from the frantic miming of winding down a car window, to the "he’s-behind-you" axe murderer, to the wonderful mismatch of the sets (pinpoint accurate kitchen, “Gosh your art teacher is good”-style painted flats, to the reconstruction of the crime with gnomes, the mimed elements, and the miniature back-stage artbox area giving a glimpse of far-off areas). It shouldn’t have worked together beautifully, but it did; in keeping with itself in spirit if not in actual format. And the dream sequence pathologists’ waltz was total genius.

I don’t think there’s a moral to this show, beyond the well trodden “surprisingly weird things happen in nice rural places” but sometimes you don’t need a life lesson, just a great evening out. Midsomer Murders: The Killings at Badger’s Drift certainly delivers that. It’s slick, it’s sick, it makes fun of its own shtick, in all the best ways.