Sliding onto our screens in 2002, this cracker of a sitcom follows the shenanigans of two Glasgow pensioners — the unkillable Victor McDade (Greg Hemphill) and Jack Jarvis Esq. (Ford Kiernan). Together, they navigate the joys and woes of growing old in the fictional Craiglang estate, armed with nothing but their lifelong friendship, a few half-baked plans, and more patter than a Glasgow taxi rank on a Saturday night.

What makes Still Game so endlessly rewatchable is its delicate balancing act: everyday mundanity — like worrying about heating bills or hiding your shoogly dentures — blends effortlessly with moments of absurdity that leave you snorting your tea out your nose. Remember the episode when Jack and Victor fake their own deaths to score free beer at their wake? Or the one where they treat themselves to a fancy lift that breaks down, forcing them into a battle of wits and flatulence? Every daft escapade is underpinned by that bittersweet knowledge that these two have seen it all and still haven’t lost their sense of mischief.

And then there’s Isa Drennan (Jane McCarry) — Craiglang’s resident nosey parker. Isa’s relentless gossiping and knack for popping up in your living room unannounced makes her both a local menace and an absolute national treasure. The way she “accidentally” overhears everything is the stuff of neighbourly legend. Her constant pursuit of a wee bit of scandal is so relentless that even Navid (Sanjeev Kohli), the sharp-tongued corner shop owner, has given up trying to outwit her.

Speaking of Navid — who else could run a shop where you can buy your messages and get a full rundown of who’s cheating on whom in the high flats? He’s a deadpan masterclass, always ready with a cutting line delivered through a sly grin. And who can forget Winston (Paul Riley) — the one-legged master schemer who once used his disability to fix a fruit machine, bagging free bevvy for weeks until his luck — and the machine — finally gave out.

Then you’ve got Tam (Mark Cox), the tightest man in Craiglang, whose penny-pinching is the stuff of folklore. Tam will fake a birthday, an anniversary, even an entire relationship if it means a free round or an extra slice of cake. His miserly ways are often the spark for some of the show’s funniest scrapes — especially when his beloved Frances tries (and fails) to keep him respectable.

Part of the charm is how Still Game dips into social issues while never feeling preachy. Whether it’s the gang trying to figure out how to use modern tech — like the classic moment when Victor accidentally sends a risqué email — or the community rallying to keep the Clansman pub afloat, the show always feels like a love letter to real working-class Glaswegian life.

Over the years, the guest list was a who’s-who of Scottish stars, from Doctor Who’s Sylvester McCoy to the late, brilliant Robbie Coltrane — and let’s not forget that rumour: it’s said Still Game was one of Sean Connery’s favourite shows. You’d half expect Big Tam to have blagged a drink off him, given the chance.

And when it all comes to that inevitable end — no spoilers, but bring tissues — it hits you right in the feels. Somehow, Still Game finds warmth and dignity in the one thing we all fear: getting older. With every rewatch, that final bow leaves you a little bit sadder and a lot more grateful for pals, pints, and patter.

So, whether you’re a seasoned Weegie or just love a good Carry On-style chuckle, there’s no better comfort blanket than a couple of Craiglang pensioners giving it laldy. Pop the kettle on, pour a dram, and lose yourself in the daft, heartwarming magic of Still Game.

Rating: 8/10 — a national treasure that never goes out of style, just like a good flat cap. – Phil