CORSETS? Check. Face wiggery? Check. Carriages? Check. Bonnets? Check. Judi Dench? Check.

Why bolster my britches and furtle my frock-coat, sir, if it isn't BBC costume drama!

All the required elements and more were present in the first episode of Cranford (Sunday, BBC One, 9pm) , the Beeb's latest showboat, five-part period periodical, specifically designed to keep us all glued to the box every Sunday night.

And you know what? For a Sunday night audience which has endured endless Monarch of The Glens, Heartbeats and Last of the Summer Wines, it will probably manage it.

Which is lucky, for no expense has been spared on it.

I mean, Judi Dench is in it, and she's James Bond's boss, for goodness sake.

Imelda Staunton's in it, and she nearly won an Oscar, except she was too annoying.

Greg Wise is in it - he's famous because his wife is that Kate Titanic.

It's even got the God of the small screen in it, Phil Glenister, and he won't be cheap.

Add Francesca Annis, Michael Gambon, Julia McKenzie and Julia Sawahahahahahahahahlha. And you're talking about a salary bill that would need a fleet of wheelbarrows at least.

Then there's the specially-composed music by Carl Davis, all that gold-dust that they have to sprinkle over everything to make it look lovely and fuzzy and Hovis-ish, the vintage carriages they had to borrow off Lord Beaulieu, probably, oh and all those olde worlde costumes they would have to have got run up... I dread to think what they'll be charging for phone voting next year!

Anyway, the A-list cast was very impressive, the idyllic settings utterly gorgeous - Lacock, West Wycombe, Oxfordshire, Ashridge, Kinson (just joking) - and the story was... well, I can't honestly remember, truth be told.

And that was the problem. There was a lot going on (especially around the Imelda Staunton nostril region), but nothing much really seemed to happen.

A new young doctor arrived.

A shy young lady arrived.

A shop advertised some lace.

A man took off a wig and put it back on again.

Some gloves almost got bought.

A fellow broke his arm.

A dog wore a ribbon.

Now, I recognise that all this focus on the slow-paced minutia of village life is intentional and is to reflect how days pass in the fictional world of Cranford, but five weeks of bonnet bobbing, lace envy and candle rage could be stretching it a bit.

Much like the much-mentioned crocheted collar nicked by a cheeky cat.

Dench as the slightly dotty and kind Miss Matilda is lovely and makes no attempt to show-off or hog the limelight, even though she could.

Eileen Atkins as her austere older sister, Deborah is equally good.

Glenister is faultless, but I kept expecting him to shout out: "Shut it you poofy nonce," a la DCI Gene Hunt (Life On Mars) at any minute.

Gambon is a gem and Annis is sleeker than a freshly lacquered whatnot.

But Staunton, oh my giddy aunt. The overacting knew no bounds and I know that she was only making sure that all of us thick viewers understood that she was playing the role of the village busybody but, as Michael Winner would say, Calm down dear, it's only the telly.

Cranford is trying hard to replicate the brilliance of The Barchester Chronicles.

And judging by the first episode it's not doing too badly, but where the Chronicles had the under- stated subtlety of Donald Pleasence, Geraldine McEwan and Alan Rickman (as the unforgettable Obedia Slope), this has Imelda Staunton.

And a cat being sick actually stole the show...