TV Preview: Much ado about nothing

Romance has blossomed between Sian Powers (Sacha Parkinson), left, and her best friend Sophie Webster (Brooke Vincent). Photo / Supplied

EE-BY-GUM! I used to practically live in Coronation Street, but I haven't strolled down there for some time.

I'm not the only one: Coro's audience has halved. But I put on my hairnet and revisited Weatherfield this week in its new home at 5.30pm every weekday.

I got interested again after all the pursed-mouthed reports over lesbian teens kissing on the Street being shown at such an early hour. Blimmin' eck! What was going on?

It was weird going back. Some of Coro was so familiar - Rita complaining about Norris, Emily complaining about Norris, Norris complaining about, well, anything, Ken wearing a bad jersey, Deirdre with the tendons of her neck sticking out, chinless Gail in trouble ... . But then there were new things: Sophie Webster pashing her friend Sian, leather trousers, Nigel Havers and cocktails at the Rover's. Cocktails? Steady on, vicar! What happened to hot pot? As barmaid Becky said to her landlady: "It's innovation, Liz. You've got to move with the times or get left behind."

Coronation Street's writers have certainly taken this edict to heart. But I couldn't understand the fuss over the kiss, which was almost chaste. I suspect viewers, already disgruntled about having their favourite show shifted to accommodate MasterChef Australia, were just looking for a target for their wrath.

The writers might now include discussions about global warming and risque bisexual love-triangle storylines, but the more it has changed the more it stays the same. The DNA of Coro is still gentle, satirical humour in the vein of Diary of a Nobody. Its whimsy has not been lost in the move towards chav-tastic "society is going to hell in a handcart" realism. Coro's signature of poking fun at the foibles of the repressed English character has become heightened and almost surreal, rather like Kath and Kim go to Manchester. It is hard to take any social message seriously when it seems like a spoof.

For example, Norris plays Kate Bush's Wuthering Heights as he sets off to the West Yorkshire moors. To find this funny you have to know what Norris is like: an elderly Pooterish trainspotter. "Norris can't decide whether to pack a comb or a hairbrush," Emily says. "Blimey, that makes butter versus margarine look controversial," sympathises Becky. Norris has a treat in store from his nerdy would-be girlfriend. "My toad in the hole has been much talked about over the years and I have spiced it up. I call it toad in the 'ole!"

The best bits of Coro function on two quite distinct levels. There are the crikey-blimey-whatever-next soap opera storylines: will Tyrone guess about Molly and Kevin? Will Gail get off her murder charge? On a more sophisticated level, the dialogue is not about the actual plot developments but about the characters' own neuroses and insecurities. Kevin is worrying whether he might have unconsciously tried to kill ex-lover Molly: "We're ordinary working-class lads; we don't know anything about psychiatry. That subconscious is a load of rubbish and I never fancied my mother, neither."

Coro's dialogue is actually far more sophisticated than anyone on the minimum wage in the north of England would manage. Yes, I know, it's not real life. But that's why I might become a regular visitor at the Rover's again in its new "temporary" - yeah, right - timeslot. But all the old ducks in rest homes who are upset about the time change should take heart that despite a lezzer kiss, the world of Coro is just as consolingly constant as when Hilda had her "Muriel" and Ena Sharples her milk stout. It is still escapism, not gritty realism. Make mine a half of bitter, chook.

* Coronation Street plays on TV One, Monday to Friday at 5.30pm.