Oh dear, things have got a bit patchy again. And let's hope there's another series – or next week's instalment is going to have an awful lot of loose ends to tie up

SPOILER ALERT: This blog is for people watching Downton Abbey series three. Don't read on if you haven't seen episode seven.

Viv Groskop's episode six blog

Bates is back! And, consistency sticklers rejoice, his dodgy leg problem has mysteriously reappeared. His return gave us the chance to re-focus on the hierarchy downstairs and all the juicy tensions that affords. With Bates back, Thomas' position as valet – and at the house at all – is in real jeopardy.

Bates's place, of course, being the best buddy of the master of the house, is assured. "Stay in bed! Read books!" urged the Earl of Grantham. What a shame there's no television yet. I know an entertainingly patchy costume drama he could get into.

Anyway. After two intense, highly watchable episodes, things have gone back to being a bit rough around the edges. Lots of ducks are being lined up for a big series finale next week and I think it's safe to say that they must know a series four commission is more or less in the bag. Either that or next week's episode is 56 hours long. Because there are a lot of ends to tie up.

Still, at least O'Brien's motivations became slightly clearer. She just wants Alfred to succeed because he is her nephew. Maybe she has a whole succession of nephews and nieces who can take over the entire house, all armed with pursed lips, portentous one-liners and bars of soap.

Enjoyable moments? Lady Edith and the burgeoning romance (come on, it has to be!) with the Editor. The portrait with the left-footer outside the church. The flirting between Mrs Hughes and Carson. "Human nature is a funny business, isn't it?" "Oh, why didn't the poets come to you? They'd have saved themselves an awful lot of time and trouble."

What needs to come to the boil next week? Lady Mary's lack of pregnancy. Lady Edith's lack of husband. A role for Branson and baby Sybil. (Love that baby, by the way.) A cottage for Bates and Anna. Some hanky-panky for Ivy and/or Alfred and/or Jimmy (Thomas could watch). And a comeuppance for Thomas. Oh, and the financial difficulties of the estate (yawn).

Several random elements bear mentioning for their contribution. The musical score came into major effect this week and was, dare I say, rather affecting. Hairdressing this series has been superb and tonight the Marcel waves of Cousin Violet and Lady Edith were particularly finely tuned.

Best of all tonight, though, was the notable return of Isis, the Earl of Grantham's faithful labrador, the one with her own Facebook page. Having been absent for most of the series – in fact, we thought Thomas had locked her in the wood shed again – Isis was in virtually every scene in this episode. She looked thoroughly disdainful of all the goings-on. And rightly so.

Random Subplot Alert

"Downton must be self-supporting if it is to have a chance of survival." The whole business with estate manager Jarvis – who suddenly appeared as if he had been some major character all along – was perplexing. At least Matthew did not say the word "husbandry" repeatedly tonight. For husbandry is to Matthew what prostitution is to Cousin Isobel: the very lifeblood.

No, tonight Matthew was all about machinery, methods, techniques, investment and productivity. Yes, yes, yes, we get what's going on here: the voice of progress versus the voice of tradition. Blah blah blah. It all feels like so much exposition. It's all just a big set-up for some showdown in series four, surely?

Some deeply unsubtle hints have been dropped about potential future developments: Daisy could become a lady farmer. After all, he has access to her father-in-law's extensive tool collection! Alfred could become a gentleman cook. After all, he knows about parsley! Branson could run the place. After all his grandfather was a sheep farmer! Someone save us.

Golden Eyebrow Award of the Week

Carson – "Thomas was doing WHAT?" – was pipped at the post by Cousin Violet, who edges one step closer to receiving the Golden Tweezers. We had the brilliant mention of a hair-raising experience at the "tradesmen's hotel in Middlesbrough". We got Dame Maggie's Fifty Shades of Grey face: "What is The Scarlet Letter? It sounds most unsuitable." And we had this: "You cannot want your grand-daughter to grow up above a garage with that drunken gorilla?" How does she do it? You can give her the worst lines imaginable and they still come out like Shakespeare.

But the most golden of eyebrow moments came as a result of her trying to get Ethel the One-Time Prostitute removed. Ethel: "These days a working woman must have a skill." Cousin Violet, as if butter wouldn't melt but with explosive eyebrow protusion: "But you seem to have so many." Priceless.

Surprise Character Development

Hardly a surprise but tonight Mr-Stick-It-Up-Your-Jumper (Thomas) finally made his move to stick it up somewhere else. My heart went out to Rob James Collier, who plays Thomas with delicious, under-stated panache. This was a tough scene to make believable. Would Thomas really risk everything on the strength of a nudge from O'Brien?

We were supposed to imagine that his lust just got the better of him. But I was not entirely convinced of that. Nor of the idea that he would speak to Carson using the language of a 21st century gay rights campaigner.

Sorry, could you just repeat that awkward line of dialogue?

Thomas to Bates: "I'm still here. I'm as busy as a bee." A bee who smokes in corridors, wears a flesh-coloured leather glove of doom and likes to sting unsuspecting footmen with its unwanted kiss. That is one funny bee.

Cousin Violet to Cousin Isobel about Ethel: "You have surrounded this house with a miasma of scandal." No, Uncle Julian has surrounded this series with a miasma of randomness.

Carson to Thomas: "I do not wish to take a tour of your revolting world." Oh, go on, Carson, take the tour! We could sell tickets!

Next week

Thomas is to leave? With no reference? Frankly he is safer on the premises rather than off them. If he leaves Downton, he will cause untold havoc attempting to wreak his revenge from afar. Rose is coming! Rose who? Indeed. We know nothing of her other than she appears to be a blonde Helena Bonham Carter and is a fan of the Charleston. And Edith lasts one week as a lady columnist.

It was all very literary – and check out those Brideshead costumes – but, although Bates fans were well catered for, couldn't they have given us a bit more action?

Is that it? Seriously? A few cups of tea and some scones at a cricket match and that's what you're going to leave us with? This was a giant serving of anti-climax, dolloped out with bouillon spoons.

There was no obvious cliff-hanger. Thomas was going and then he wasn't and then he was and then he wasn't. There was the bizarre introduction of a new character who went nowhere (Rose). And we had only a tantalising sniff of Her Ladyship's soap. Too fleeting! Seasoned, jaded viewers who have stuck with this sequinned turkey of a series through burnt kidney souffles, the death throes of eclampsia and tingle-free impotence deserved more, far more, than Molesley and his sticky wicket.

There was something of a literary sheen to tonight's series finale, however. Miss O'Brien was referencing Oscar Wilde. The costume department was channelling Brideshead Revisited. And there was a frenzied depiction of something that can only be described as Fifty Shades of Bates.

We zoomed in on Bates several times with various soft focus, Vaseline-lens shots. See how he collapses, winded, on to the sofa! See how the drops of paint splash on to his face as he does his manly home-decorating! We had a real, gruff, Mellors line of dialogue: "You being in the room is enough to make it nice. Come here." Bates fans might have needed to be locked in the cold meat cupboard to cool down.

I rather loved the decadent scenes in the Blue Dragon, and Rose, the flighty, young, blonde Helena Bonham Carter. But she felt like a refugee from the decommissioned Upstairs Downstairs. What was her presence supposed to signal? Other than, "You'd better give us at least one more series."

And as for the gentleman editor (who looks exactly like Edith's previous doomed suitor) with his Mrs Rochester lunatic wife ... Couldn't we at least have waited a bit longer to find that out? Still, excellent use of "telephone as Wikipedia" from Edith.

The costumes deserve special mention in tonight's episode, especially Cora's embroidered number and the lilac colour palette. But so frequently the painstakingly recreated aesthetic of the series has only served to point up the weaknesses in the plot.

Most disappointing thing tonight? A complete absence of Isis. She would have loved the cricket! She was obviously being punished for stealing every scene last week. And the most delicious irony of all? The gentleman editor's explanation of his wife's condition. "A lunatic is not deemed the innocent or guilty party ..." And once you're involved, you're simply tied to the madness and unable to escape. Heavens. It's just like being a Downton viewer.

Random subplot alert

Mary and Matthew's failure to secure the succession is becoming tedious. And the mention of the "little prince" was toe-curling. "Now we can start making babies." Haven't they said essentially the same thing every episode for the past eight weeks? As has been noted many times in the comments on this blog, they have gone from the hottest couple in Christendom to lacklustre and chummy. Maybe that's aristo marriage for you.

How did Mary manage to go off and have an operation without anyone noticing, by the way? And why are we spared the details of the mysterious procedure when we were forced to endure every cramp and whimper of Sybil's womb? Plus, as usual, the whole business was discussed as if we were sitting on Oprah Winfrey's sofa: "I'm not sure blame is a very useful concept in this area." I'm still waiting for Mr Pamuk to have a hand in all this. And my only hope for future series is that he will return to haunt us – and Mary – in some way. Come back, Kemal, all is forgiven!

Golden eyebrow award of the week – and the series

Carson's consideration of Thomas' "condition" caused mammoth eyebrow action of the most impressive order. "I cannot hide that I find your situation revolting. You have been made by nature into something foul." I cannot hide that I find it unlikely that in a 1920s household so many people would have 21st century insights into sexuality ... But never mind.

And just when you thought the butler's brow couldn't jump any further off his forehead, the Earl of Grantham went ahead and promoted Jimmy to first footman without so much of a by-your-leave. "What?!" harrumphed Carson.

And so – please sound the fanfare – the Golden Eyebrow goes to Carson for a third time, crowning him Golden Eyebrow Series winner. A pair of gold-plated tweezers will be making their way to the offices of the theatrical agent of Jim Carter. Or if I can't find any, I will make some out of cardboard and paint them with gold nail varnish. No expense spared for this accolade.

Surprise character development

Suddenly the whole denouement of the entire series is supposed to depend on the fact that suddenly Alfred grows a backbone? Oh, come on. The whole business with Thomas became too complicated, despite brilliant performances from Rob James-Collier and Siobhan Finneran. One minute Carson's going to make Thomas sorry. Then Jimmy is. Then Alfred is. In the end, everyone ended up being promoted apart from Bates. And we never got to witness Thomas's face in triumph, which would have been a picture.

Once again, the Oprah-style understanding of Thomas's "situation" seemed completely anachronistic. Although it was worth it for the earl's priceless line: "If I shouted blue murder every time someone tried to kiss me at Eton, I'd be hoarse within a month." Too. Much. Information. Note: Uncle Julian was not educated at Eton but at Ampleforth. So this might have been a bit of a dig.

Sorry, could you just repeat that awkward line of dialogue?

Cousin Violet: "The thing is to keep smiling. And never look as if you disapprove." That's right, Cousin Violet. You could never look as if you disapprove.

Matthew: "Married men who wish to seduce young women always have horrid wives." So true.

Edith: "I find the idea of a married man flirting with me wholly repugnant." Er, you didn't say that when you were cosying up to the farmhand in series two.

Next week

There is no next week! No more laying out of bouillon spoons. No more waddling of Isis's backside up the front drive. No more chandelier being feather-dusted. Until series four. The announcement of which is, I suspect, imminent. And there's always the Christmas special. Until then, souffle fans! *waves flesh-coloured leather-gloved hand of doom*

The fourth series of Downton Abbey opened with Edith behaving salaciously, more labrador action and excitement over newfangled kitchen gadgets

SPOILER ALERT: This blog is for people watching Downton Abbey series four. Don't read on if you haven't seen episode one.

Viv Groskop's series three blog

Well, I was expecting great things. "A return to season one form," they said. "No more ridiculous twists and turns," they said. But it was all lies. Rumours of the reinvigoration of Downton Abbey for season four, it turns out, were much exaggerated.

Although, yes, to be fair, it looks like some of the craziness of the previous two seasons has been banished. (Boo.) But ultimately, what's new? Not much. This is still a series that relies on bravura acting performances to bring it to life because much of the dialogue – and much of the plot – is dodgy.

That said, this was a reasonably enjoyable, if sedate, episode. Any successful moments were purely down to what the actors brought to it, especially the dowager countess (Dame Maggie Smith) and Lady Mary (Michelle Dockery), who could both destroy the stoniest of cynics with a single glance.

But what, oh what, have they done to Edith? Of course, we all want Edith to find some happiness in life after her many disappointments at the hands of the married farm labourer, the elderly one who jilted her at the altar and, of course, Melty-Faced Patrick. But, frankly, Edith is not so desperate that she would turn up at the Criterion in a dress split to the thigh (would such a dress even exist in 1922?) and eat the married editor's face in broad daylight, even if his wife is a certified lunatic. The business of him becoming a German in order to circumvent divorce law does not bode well. Go back to being a spinster, Edith! He's not worth it!

The storyline with Super-Evil Nanny West as the O'Brien replacement showed promise. (I miss O'Brien!) A lengthy rivalry between her and Thomas would have been something to relish. But by the end of the episode, the character has been binned. What was the point? They do try our patience.

Other storylines seemed to have stalled, but that's probably a function of reintroducing characters and reminding viewers where we're up to. Anna and Bates are boringly happy. Mrs Hughes and Carson are gently flirting. The Daisy-Ivy-Alfred-Jimmy love triangle (I am aware this is a four-sided triangle) is confusing: Ivy loves Jimmy and Alfred loves Ivy and Jimmy loves himself and Daisy just wants anyone to love her. Have I understood that correctly? It's not a great elevator pitch, even for a subplot.

The high points involved set-ups for future shenanigans. The reintroduction of Edna the Hussy Housemaid who flirted outrageously with Branson in the last season. The bizarre "hug-a-hoodie" adoption of Carson's music-hall friend by Mrs Crawley. The introduction of the food processor. (This was actually the most successful and interesting plot point. Which says it all.)

One important note: the removal of the backside of Isis, the labrador, from the opening credits is surely cause for great alarm. She has been Downton Abbey's comforting rear-view intro for many years now. Thank heavens, then, that Isis's role has been upgraded, and she featured in no fewer than three scenes in tonight's episode. Perhaps it's time for her to get her own Facebook page and stop having to share one with Pharoah (the labrador who used to be in it). (Highly recommended interview listed there, by the way, where Hugh Bonneville reveals that Isis is "a moody bitch".)

The Uncle Julian award for gratuitous anachronism

Uncle Julian and his team of mouse screenwriters love to manipulate their best actors by giving them storylines and dialogues that are totally out of place in the period. "That's the understatement of the year," says Anna, on Ivy being drunk. "Go to bed. You look done in," says Lord Grantham to Mary. These are modern utterances. Irritating.

The plot also had incongruous developments. Yes, every scene featuring Dame Maggie Smith was utterly beautiful and perfect. And I am not ashamed to reveal that there were tears in the Groskop household when she murmured to Lady Mary, "The difference is ... I love you." And the interchange between Lady Mary and Carson was wonderfully poignant.

But the problem with these scenes, as with the ones featuring Lady Mary's miraculous transformation from grieving widow to tycoon of estate management, is that they are utterly anachronistic. A dowager countess would never talk to her granddaughter like that. A butler and a lady would never have that close a relationship. And a woman would never be welcomed at that table in 1922. If this series is going to have some kind of revisionist feminist agenda, I may have to lay in extra reviving violet macaroons.

Translators' corner

"You are letting yourself be defeated, my lady. I'm sorry if it's a lapse to say so. But someone has to." Carson to Lady Mary. Translation: "I am your real father."

"I know Mummy thought that O'Brien was very good at doing hair." Rose on her mother stealing O'Brien as a lady's maid. Translation: "I come from a family of deceivers and soon I'm going to get involved in some crazy wayward behaviour myself, just you wait and see."

"Just because you're an old widow, I see no reason to eat off a tray." Dowager Countess to Mrs Crawley. Translation: no translation necessary.

Melty-Faced Patrick mad tribute moment

"You wicked little cross-breed!" Nanny West to baby Sibby. Would anyone actually say this? I don't think so. But I'm so glad she did.

Next week

There is a letter from Matthew. Oh, what a surprise. Anna has an argument with Edna. And there are indeterminate fisticuffs at a thé dansant. Pass the smelling salts.

A dull week at Downton, despite a housemaid's costume drama and a New Evil Pairing. Even Bates was boring, and possibly quite bored himself

SPOILER ALERT: This blog is for people watching Downton Abbey series four. Don't read on if you haven't seen episode two .

Viv Groskop's episode one blogpost

Not a bad episode. Nothing disastrously cringeworthy happened. Low on anachronistic dialogue for once. (With the notable exception of someone going "back in my box".) But, heavens, was it boring. Where are the laughs? Where is the drama? You could feel Uncle Julian and his team of mouse scriptwriters resorting to desperate measures to make it seem like anything was going on.

Part of the problem is that viewers who have been watching for three long series now (who will soon be offered counselling on the NHS, or at least they should be) know and trust their favourite characters. Anna is a particular viewer favourite, despite, or perhaps because of, her essential sweet-natured tedium. Never in a million years would Anna permit, let alone encourage, a member of the lower orders to visit one of the upstairs crew.

So the idea of her sourcing a housemaid's costume for Rose to dress up in? It is beyond crazed. Yes, this is the same Anna who dragged the recently fornicating corpse of the Turkish ambassador ("Oh, Kemal!") through the corridors of Downton Abbey. But that was to save Lady Mary's reputation, not to ruin it, as Rose is ruining hers. That said, I suspect certain viewers will have very much enjoyed seeing Rose in a housemaid's costume. Fifty Shades ahoy.

The set up of the New Evil Pairing between Thomas and the new housemaid was promising but so slow. It was perversely pleasing to see the wonderfully lugubrious Molesley reduced to demeaning manual labour, although he seemed to have got more tar on his face than on the road. And thank heavens Edith has recovered her composure and is batting off the future Nazi.

Meanwhile I was torn between thinking that Bates has become exceedingly creepy, virtually stalking his own wife and making serial killer faces at her, and acknowledging that he is probably just bored out of his skull because the most exciting thing he had to do this episode was write a letter. Remember: Bates has killed before. (Never did understand that poison pie explanation behind his first wife's death.)

In happier news, several essential details lead me to believe fervently that Uncle Julian is (whisper it) reading this blog and acting accordingly. First, Isis's backside was magically restored to the opening credits. Bravo! Then the weird mouse rabbit thingy (the toy Lady Mary gave to Matthew when he went to war) apppeared in the box of Matthew's workplace artefacts. Hurrah! Also: someone posted last week about how ludicrous it was to suggest that a solicitor would not leave a will. Matthew mentioned this VERBATIM in his own letter. Uncle Julian, if you are reading, please prove it. Let there be a framed picture of Melty-Faced Patrick on Edith's dressing table next week. We will be watching. Probably.

Random subplot alert

Yes, the old section headings are back by popular demand. (Stand by, Golden Eyebrow fans!) Now, we have had some choice subplots in our time but the one with Double-Crossing Music Hall Chum Mr Grigg and "Alice" – a woman whose portrait resembled Carson in drag – has been truly random. Certainly we're heading for a big revelation about Carson's crazy music hall days but the build-up is excruciating. I did honk heartily at the idea that a high-stakes, life-changing conversation should take place over the 60 seconds during which a train stops at a station. Grigg quoted Alice: "Charlie Carson was the better man. I could have loved him. I did love him really. But I was a fool and couldn't see it." It was not easy to get the words out as the guard hovered with his whistle. Let's situate all essential plot denouements at the station while someone is boarding a train! Yay!

Golden Eyebrow award of the week

It was a close contest this week between Carson and Lord Grantham. Hugh Bonneville rarely gets much forehead use as his character is supposed to be stoic at all times. But there was a rare MEGA-EYEBROW as Dame Maggie opposed him keeping Matthew's letter secret. "Yes, but you see I don't agree..."

Offering stiff competition was Carson's errant right eyebrow which shot skywards as he pretended to maintain his composure as Mrs Crawley discussed Double-Crossing Music Hall Chum Mr Grigg. Carson, the current holder of last season's Golden Eyebrow award, would usually win this contest hands down. Or eyebrows up. But he was hampered by the fact that he was involved in a totally irrelevant and uninspiring storyline involving the Double-Crossing Music Hall Chum. It's a tie.

Surprise character development

Not so much a surprise as a betrayal. The dowager countess (Dame Maggie) has undergone a lobotomy. As the preposterous feminist revisionism continues apace, we are supposed to believe that she would be Lady Mary's main champion, encouraging her to run the house. This is the woman who only a few episodes ago asked, "What is a weekend?" because she could not empathise with anyone who has an actual job. Lady Mary might well have someone in the house supporting her cause. But not Granny.

'Sorry could you just repeat that awkward line of dialogue?'

• "Nothing's as changeable as a young man's heart. Take hope and a warning from that." We love Mrs Patmore.

• "Well, that's me back in me box, then." Mr Sam Thorley, Rose's suitor from the tea dance, upon learning that "Rose Smith" was promised to a farmer. This expression is listed on Urban Dictionary. I will say no more.

• "Now the room's going to smell like a tart's boudoir." Lady Mary to Anna, after perfume was spilled. You wish, Lady Mary, you wish.

Next week

It's Kiri de Kanawa and Mini-Den from EastEnders! Mini-Den is flirting with Anna! Mini-Den is inspiring shenigans in the kitchen! (As well he might.) And the suitors come flocking to Lady Mary.

The horror in Downton is usually pantomime, but what happened to Anna this week felt rather nasty and voyeuristic

SPOILER ALERT: This blog is for people watching Downton Abbey series four. Don't read on if you haven't seen episode three.

Viv Groskop's episode two blogpost

Oh, Uncle Julian. How could you? Not Anna. "This episode contains violent scenes that some viewers may find upsetting." Heavens above. Well, we were half-prepared for that warning, as there was no preview episode available this week, and the last time that happened Sybil bled to death. And as with the Sybil episode, we didn't really get any action until the last seven minutes.

As soon as Mini-Den's hip flask appeared, it became obvious. "He's not going to rape her, is he?" I asked, like an idiot dupe. And so, of course, it transpired. I am still not sure what to think. "Nobody else must ever know," Anna begged, "You promise me?" Trust has been ruptured on many, many levels, both in the house and with the audience. A comb is not going to be of much help here, Mrs Hughes. Nor is a new dress.

I'm torn between two extremes. One part of me thinks that this plot direction could be just the thing to revive a series which seems baggy and flagging after only three episodes. Could Anna be pregnant? What other liberties will Mini-Den take in the house now that Anna hasn't grassed him up? And what will Bates do when he eventually finds out, as eventually he must? That's if their relationship lasts at all.

Another part of me feels irritated and betrayed. Anna is a favourite character. There was something gratuitous about throwing this turn of events into the mix, especially when this episode also sowed the seeds of a thousand other subplots involving random new characters. The problem here, as so often in Downton Abbey, is that our emotional investment is so thinly spread across so many characters, shifting viewpoints and mini-scenes with barely one line of dialogue. So when something truly gripping happens, you're just left feeling numb.

(Note regarding Mini-Den: I will refer to this character, played by Nigel Harman, as Mini-Den for now, the character he used to play in EastEnders. Mostly because his character name has been poorly established so far. He is Mr Green. But he is called Mr Gillingham downstairs in tribute to the name of the aristo he is serving. Get me with my knowledge.)

Before Anna was attacked, our attention was being splattered all over the place like the jam in a jar opened by Jimmy. Rose was cosying up to a very greasy type. Edith was failing to interest anyone in the imminent German. (Until - hurrah! - he turned out to be a bit of a whiz at poker.) Mary went horse-riding and had a conversation about the Inland Revenue.

I half-relished some of the "something bad's going to happen!" clangers dropped and looks exchanged throughout this episode. Cora: "A house party can be so flat if there's no special moment." Lord Grantham: "I want to go out with a bang." Edith: "I should be careful if I were you." But by the end of it all, that all felt rather nasty and voyeuristic, when something so genuinely horrible really was about to happen. The horror in Downton is usually fairly pantomime. This felt possibly too real, too desperate. I can't quite forgive it. As Carson put it, "What a topsy turvy world we've come to."

Random subplot alert

Well, it was all subplot until the last seven minutes. And we had to put up with lines like this from people whose presence was not explained: "Do you know Isabella Moncrieff? She's blown up like a balloon." I do realise that this stuff was designed to show how frustrating it is to be Tom Branson among all these aristos, but unfortunately it felt as tiring to us as it did to him. I did love the fact that Alfred's culinary ambitions returned in this episode. They have surfaced before. But he is going to have to learn to cook something other than bechamel sauce if he is going to get anywhere. And, please, do we have to have a re-run of the doomed love affair between Edna "duplicitous housemaid" Braithwaite and Tom "I'll never be a real aristo" Branson? It seems we do.

Golden Eyebrow Award of the week

Almost too many candidates to mention this week. "How are the squabs doing? What about the syllabubs? Oh my God, the vegetables!" Mrs Patmore looked as if she were about to have a heart attack. Which she then proceeded to have. Except, no, it was just an anxiety attack. According to Dr Death, anyway.

Lord Grantham's "What does one say to a singer?" was a close eyebrow contender. As was this line from Dame Maggie: "If I were to search for logic, I would not look for it in the English upper class."

The defender of the eyebrow title fought back bravely: "An Australian singer, eating with her Ladyship?" Carson's eyebrow action as ever seemed to indicate a shock so extreme that he would almost choke. Which is no doubt what he thinks would happen to anyone from upstairs forced to sit near an Australian.

But there could only be one winner tonight. "You want me to be a footman? I'm having my career backwards." Oh the humiliation of having to wear gloves! Mr Molesley wins the Golden Eyebrow. Although I concede that it is partly a sympathy vote.

Surprise character development

It's getting very difficult to know what we should make of Lady Mary. And I say this with the deepest of sympathy for Michelle Dockery, who is a fabulous actor. "I loved him. But he changed me. If I were as tough as I was when I met him, maybe I'd be happier now." And now the sight of the gramophone has indisposed her. The script for Lady Mary's mourning has been tricky: it's as if she's been told to play out her grief as a waxwork. Now even she is longing for her former self. As are we all. Please, someone, give Mary a direction soon.

"Sorry, could you just repeat that awkward line of dialogue?"

• "I'm afraid Tom's small talk is very small indeed." "Not everyone can be Oscar Wilde." "Well, that's a relief." Lord Grantham and the dowager countess discussing Tom Branson. Lovely. If Dame Maggie were paid by the word, she'd get next to nothing.

• "Oh you know Mary, she's always quite opaque." The understatement of the century from Isobel Crawley.

• "I have made quite a study of claret." What the Australian singer is trying to say is that she likes a drink.

Next week

Rose meets the jazz man. There's more tension between Anna and Bates. Lady Mary's suitor is back with a vengeance. (Sorry this is brief but I still can't breathe after what happened to Anna. UNCLE JULIAN, HOW COULD YOU?)

There's not much to laugh about, and a new pregnancy obsession has taken hold, but this episode just about cuts the mustard

SPOILER ALERT: This blog is for people watching Downton Abbey series four. Don't read on if you haven't seen episode three.

Viv Groskop's episode three blogpost

It's the morning after the night before, and Anna's bruises are just starting to come up. Thomas: "What's the matter with everyone this merry morn?" Carson: "I always think there's something rather foreign about high spirits at breakfast." In the house everyone's pretending it's business as usual. And are we, the viewers, supposed to do the same?

It would appear so. And, for once, this assumption paid off. Having dropped last week's hideous betrayal into the mix, gravely injuring both our sensibilities and our most beloved character, it seemed worrying that Uncle Julian might want us to continue to be interested in asparagus in puff pastry, broken curling irons and Evil Edna's illicit copy of Marie Stopes' Married Love when all we care about is Whether Anna Is Ever Going to Be Alright Ever Again.

But somehow the tone of this week's episode struck just about the right note (I'm being generous because we all have to get through at least another four hours of this before the series is out), even if, as many have noted in posts on this blog, the pacing of this series has become ludicrous: there are barely three lines in any scene. Still, this was one of the least irritating episodes in some time, short on comedy, but rightly so, given that Anna's storyline dominates. It set a decent(ish) standard and almost felt like a bit of an apology for what happened the week before.

There's a slightly ghoulish preoccupation with pregnancy hanging over the Abbey, though. Edna: "Suppose I'm pregnant." A bold claim after one night with Branson. "All I need is your word that you'll marry me if there's a baby." First, Anna is raped. Now a serious argument for the morning-after pill. Uncle Julian, has someone being putting a tincture into your morning tea?

This storyline soon crystallised around the maternal figure of Mrs Hughes, promoted to Phantom-Pregnancy-Finder General. Having been the first to note that Anna might be with child, she then rifled through Edna's (no doubt frilly) knicker drawer to gather the necessary evidence of contraception. The obsession then transferred to Aunt Rosamund, who warned Lady Edith that she may well find herself feeling very sorry about something indeed while the Imminent German gallivants off to the Third Reich to write his novel. (I know it's not the Third Reich yet, but I foresee Nazi shenanigans up ahead.)

Meanwhile Mary was letting down Mr Gillingham gently. Which, unless she immediately goes back on it, seemed odd, given the Anna/Bates/Mini-Den storyline. Surely there would be more mileage in keeping Gillingham on the scene? There is also more comedy value in maintaining a character with the name Tony. Maybe it's just me, but I thought either "Sopranos" or "Swiss" every time someone had to say his name. Is that it for Tony, then? And is that it for Mini-Den? One episode? I hope they paid Nigel Harman a lot of money.

In summary: I appreciated the attempt to win back our trust. But as Carson says: "The business of life is the acquisition of memories." We cannot forget. And we're a long way off forgiving.

Random subplot alert

Hurrah. Evil Thomas is coming back into the frame. And he's drafting in an O'Brien replacement. On the one hand, I rejoice, as this is the sort of thing Downton Abbey does best. On the other hand, I despair, because we have seen it all before. It's like Villainy by Numbers. Still, there's real joy to seeing Thomas as the cat who got the cream. "I pride myself on keeping my eyes open, yes." Never has anyone been happier to hear that they are smug and oily. Can we get a closeup on his evil blood-red glove hand next week, please?

Golden Eyebrow Award of the week

Due to the low comedy quotient, there was an unexpected paucity of eyebrow contenders this week. I'm tempted to give it to Jimmy for his disdain of Ivy's feuillette pastry: "Do they really like that stuff? Or do they just order it to show off?" And I also enjoyed the immobile eyebrows (for they too can be golden) of Lady Mary when she murmured coolly to her mother: "Don't be transparent, Mama. It doesn't suit you." In fact, sod it, I'm going to give the award to Lady Mary this week, because Michelle Dockery has had terrible press this series and she really does her best with paltry storylines and sometimes demented dialogue. ("Yesterday you said I fill your brain. Well, Matthew fills mine.") The brow control she demonstrated while delivering this line was exquisite: "You've told me you're engaged to be married. And even if you weren't ... The truth is, I'm not ready. And I won't be for some years."

Surprise character development

Well, it's not much of a surprise after last week, but the relationship between Anna and Bates is basically doomed. Are we going to have to endure some kind of excruciating standoff between the two of them over several episodes, only to see them joyfully reconciled (over Mini-Den's twitching corpse?) at Christmas time? As frequently noted here, Joanne Froggatt's sublime acting talents are wasted on a show where she is made to say things like: "I feel dirty. I can't let him touch me because I'm soiled." We saw all that from a glimpse of the tiniest square millimetre of her face in last week's episode. And there's more: "Better a broken heart than a broken neck." Jo-Fro (as apparently she is called on set – this, according to Mini-Den), for carrying off these lines with aplomb, we salute you.

"Sorry, could you just repeat that awkward line of dialogue?"

• "I know you only suspect me of trying to get you back into harness …" Dr Death to Isobel Crawley. TRANSLATION: "I love you."

• Mrs Hughes: "You wanted to marry her." Carson: "So much I could taste it." Ooh la la.

• "I never met Matthew but I'm sure he was a splendid chap. But he's dead and I'm alive." Mr Gillingham is a fan of plain speaking!

• "So another brick is pulled from the wall …" Blink and you'd miss it, but this was a lovely line from Dame Maggie, distressed at her son not being properly dressed for dinner. And we got a lovely, throaty Carry On Matron laugh seconds later, at the reference to Isobel's virtue.

Next week

Bates's curiosity is driving him mad. Mary is becoming ever more expert in matters of farming and husbandry. And it looks like Mrs Baxter, the new housemaid, is Thomas's evil puppet!

In spite of its treacle-slow pace and lack of suspense, this week's Downton is surprisingly good

SPOILER ALERT: This blog is for people watching Downton Abbey series four. Don't read on if you haven't seen episode two.

Viv Groskop's episode four blogpost

"My life is perfect and then in the space of a day it is nothing?" Well, we didn't think Bates would take Anna's change of temperament lightly. But now he KNOWS. And who knows what he will do? Mini-Den is not long for this world, surely. Poor Mrs Hughes' mother is spinning in her grave.

This was a surprisingly good episode, but it was also the now-familiar combination of treacle-slow and over-loaded. A sedate pacing has re-established itself after the shock event of two weeks ago and we are sinking back into some of the hallmarks of Downton from the Good Old Days and the halycon era of the O'Brien/Thomas Partnership of Soapy Evil. Is it too little, too late, though? Especially now that the series has not so much jumped the shark as set the shark loose and allowed it to attack our favourite housemaid thus giving the head valet thoughts of murderous revenge.

I thought the "Will Bates find out or not?" storyline was going to keep us going for at least another few episodes. And it wouldn't have hurt to merely suspect that he might know (without us, the audience, being sure). Why hurry that along? But this is one of Downton's longest-term problems: Uncle Julian is uncomfortable with suspense. He likes to ramp up a plot idea as high as it will go and then sink it down low as quickly as possible afterwards. Gone is the slow burn of the mystery of the Turkish ambassador's fate, which took Lady Mary two series to admit to Matthew. Now we're lucky if a secret lasts for ten minutes.

Good bits? Thomas is up to his usual tricks: "Mrs Bates is incorruptible. So we have nothing in common." Baxter seems like a patsy, already blanching at the depths to which the maroon-gloved one will sink. (I do miss the glove close-ups.) The scenes of mature compassion and medically-qualified camaraderie between Dr Death and the Queen of the Rebels (Isobel Crawley) are tantalising. Just marry her already! And Dame Maggie was on full "throaty laugh and haughty nostril" form. Oh, yes, and the random French chef man was very entertaining. As was The Evil Modern Sewing Machine Contraption.

Bad bits? Give Daisy something interesting to do, Uncle Julian, please. And if you're going to re-invigorate the rivalry between Edith and Mary ("Oh, stop moaning"), then really go for it, don't just pussyfoot around with a few sly glances. Similarly, can we please work out whether we should believe in Edith's relationship with the newspaper editor or not? I have a terrible feeling he has gone to the invisible make-believe cupboard housing Melty-Faced Patrick. Worst bit? Everything about the tenancy and the £50 and Lady Mary being some kind of 1920s Sheryl Sandberg "leaning in" to estate matters.

All in all, some signs of life but no real direction. As my mother (a keen fan of the show) says, "They're not really telling a story. They're just making it up as they go along." And to paraphrase Mrs Hughes, speaking of Anna's secret: "It's your series and not mine. But I think it's a mistake." (Important note: thank heavens Anna is not pregnant. Or should we? See above re: suspense.)

Random subplot alert

Her Ladyship is being reminded of the greatness of the Americas and their crazy fresh orange juice! And Branson is thinking that he might quite like to go to the Americas, where no-one will regard him as an "uppity chauffeur". (I hated that no-one contradicted him on that. So that is how they see him.) And the children are still alive! I foresee more about the Americas. Where's Paul Giamatti already? Supposedly not in it until the Christmas episode. Boo.

Golden Eyebrow of the Week award

One of Lady Mary's snide exchanges with Edith made an early bid for eyebrow greatness: "Not for the first time you've got the wrong end of the stick." But she was swept aside by the Dowager of All the Eyebrows, Dame Maggie, as she surveyed Mrs Crawley: "I wonder your halo doesn't grow heavy. It must be like wearing a tiara round the clock." And if there was any doubt about Dame Maggie being this week's winner, she topped off her bravura performance by bringing the killer paper knife into play. A gift from the King of Sweden! Slam dunk. Meanwhile a special non-eyebrow culinary award goes this week to Alfred for his superb bouchees de fromage.

Surprise character development

It was alarming to see Carson's nasty side at work as he relished Molesley's double downfall. Not only does poor Molesley have to endure the indignity of delivering groceries (this seems like quite a nice job, compared to delivering Vichyssoise in white gloves to people you're not allowed to talk to). But now he has to be offered a job, lower himself to accept the job and then find out that the job does not exist. And I said Uncle Julian couldn't do suspense!

"Sorry, could you just repeat that awkward line of dialogue?"

• "Do you think she's having a good childhood?" - Lady Mary auditions for a role as one of Jeremy Kyle's backstage psychotherapists.

• "I haven't heard from Michael for a bit, that's all." - Poor Lady Edith. Translation: Uncle Julian has been Googling "early Nazi party recruitment" this week and has not yet come to a conclusion about whether that would fly or not.

• "Is there anything I ought to know about London?" - Dear, dear Alfred. Bless him.

Next week

Double suitor action for Lady Mary - and one of them's a stinking traitor! Lady Edith's newspaper editor has vanished - or has he? And there's a set-to between the two grandes dames of Downton.

Jazz, revenge and ornament theft compete for our attention in a busy episode. Uncle Julian, won't you give us a moment to catch our breath?

SPOILER ALERT: This blog is for people watching Downton Abbey series four. Don't read on if you haven't seen episode six.

Click here for Viv's episode five blog

It wouldn't do to brood too much over tonight's episode. But we Downton viewers are brooders. And brooders brood. In happy news this week: Isis was back in force, lounging in the drawing room with a "How much longer is this going to go on?" look on her face. Fortunately we are slowly but surely getting towards the end of the series. Thank goodness for that. I'm not sure how much more I can take.

That said, not a displeasing outing. (Talk about damning with faint praise.) It was gratifying to see the jazz band storyline crop up again, even only for - what was it? - several seconds. It was worth it, at least, for the effect of this storyline on Carson's face.

But I've realised the biggest issue overall: it's the length of the scenes and the chopping between storylines. This trend has really taken hold over the past three series and it now dominates everything (Many below-the-line commenters on this blog blame the American viewing public and I fear they may be right.) I seem to remember Uncle Julian once saying that every character in Downton is a main character. Great idea in theory. In reality that means every scene needs to be 30 seconds long. And it's exhausting.

It also means character churn: losing people we've only just got used to. Is that it for Alfred, then? And it means dropping in clangers without explaining them. Like last week's doctor's visit for Edith. Of course, she's pregnant. We already figured that out. Meanwhile Michael's in trouble in Germany. Oh, that's a surprise! Edith can only console herself by extending her extraordinarily vast collection of headbands.

The downstairs plots are more compelling at the moment. "Every time I remember what you've been through, I want to murder." Surely these are the words of a man who has murdered before? Brendan Coyle's interpretation of Bates' taste for vengeance is great. We're seeing the old Bates, the one we can't be quite sure of.

Thomas' resurgence mirrors his: he and Bates are both returning to the sort of form they showed in series one. This is the stuff viewers love. Sadly, though, we don't see enough of it. And the delicious effect is undermined by their powerful scenes being intercut by just too many rival subplots.

For example: oh dear, what has happened to the Little Ivory Fisherman? Young Pegg once again under suspicion as an unpronounceable Japanese ornament goes the same way as the King of Sweden's paper knife. But, thank heavens, it was all a great mistake! If this whole episode related to a downstairs character we know and love (as opposed to Pegg the Gardener, whom we barely know), we would have been more invested in it. As it is, it's been a bit slight. That said, Mrs Crawley's conversion to criminal ways, snooping under the guise of having a fainting spell, was fabulous. "Eureka!" But I repeat: Dr Death, propose to Mrs Crawley. I will not ask again.

Other joys? No more gravel shovelling for Molesley. Hurrah! Rose got a kiss from the jazz man! Hurrah! And there's a mention of Cora's brother, Uncle Harold! A crazy American! Triple hurrah! This I cannot wait to see. I will, however, not say anything about the scenes pointing towards Violet's demise. Don't you dare, Uncle Julian. Don't you dare.

Random subplot alert

"It's nothing, I'm sure … Lady Rose seems to have some secret she wants Mrs Hughes to keep … " Thomas' hair is getting suspiciously longer, as is Evil Baxter's nose. Is she in cahoots with Thomas or playing her own game? I still miss O'Brien. The scenes are now so choppy and short (which they weren't in the soapy olden days) that we cannot enjoy the Build-up of Evil. Such a shame. On the plus side, the Baxter storyline gives us a glimpse of what Downton does best: the interplay of upstairs and downstairs.

Golden Eyebrow of the Week award

There was going to be no Golden Eyebrow this week. Instead there was going to be a Golden Pursed Lip. It's Dame Maggie. "I have a feeling most things would fit into this pocket." But then Alfred got re-admitted into the cookery course and, for the first time in the history of Downton, someone pressed "activate" on the button marked "Daisy's Rarely Used Eyebrows." (Her acting is usually in the rest of her face. And very good it is too, especially her crying.) Priceless.

But what's this? A random pretender to the throne? The greasy maitre d' at the hotel. The eyebrows of a true champion. Was he trumped, though, by the reaction of both Carson and the Earl of Grantham to the jazz man's entrance? Not quite. That was less of an eyebrow moment and more of a full-body shudder. (Aside: were we supposed to think that Edith had the most intolerant reaction to the jazz man? And does that foretell something about her future sympathies for the Third Reich? Let's see.)

Surprise character development

"I don't want to make trouble but she feels much the same about you." Lady Mary's two suitors were very confusing. Barely seen, barely explained, not properly introduced. We're supposed to assume some sort of back story but goodness knows what. I sometimes think that a lot of what is going on in Downton is in Uncle Julian's imagination and he has quite forgotten to actually write it into the script. Obviously they're going to stitch Mary and the estate up like a kipper. But who are they and could we please get to care a bit about them?

'Sorry, could you just repeat that awkward line of dialogue?'

• "Shouldn't the hot toast come to me first, Daisy?" Everything should come to you first, Carson. Everything.

• "He asked for things no man should ask for before he's married." Heavens, Ivy. You'll be saying he touched your knee next.

• "We haven't done much with pigs before." Bet you haven't, Lord Grantham.

• "How you hate to be wrong." "I wouldn't know, I'm not familiar with the feeling." Who doesn't love the boxing match between Mrs Crawley and Granny?

• "I've been so well looked after here." Jazz man Mr Ross on his time at Downton. If only we could all be so well looked after in the scullery, if only.

Next week

His Lordship is going to America! Lady Mary's being rude! But, no, please, no: Granny (Dame Maggie) is ill. This does not bode well. And Mr Gillingham's back. I do not foresee a happy ending to this series.

Lady Mary wants to make things right, Bates wants revenge, and Branson is having a political reawakening. All this plus some excellent shenanigans regarding valets

SPOILER ALERT: This blog is for people watching Downton Abbey series four. Don't read on if you haven't seen episode seven.

Click here for Viv's episode six blog

This was not a hateful penultimate episode for series four. Apart from Tweedledum and Tweedledee, the ill-defined tax inspector-estate-manager-suitor types. What is the point of them? If the last episode next week is all about them shutting down Downton because of their weird survey, I'll deprive a piglet of water.

Pleasingly, Shirley Maclaine (Cora's mother) put her foot down from across the Atlantic and this has proven a most excellent intervention, occasioning some lovely performances and excellent shenanigans regarding valets. And a pleasing setup between Thomas and Baxter, as he passed the Mantle of Evil to her in his absence.

This is quality Downton: when some people have information which others don't have. Now there's a really interesting situation going on where Lady Mary wants to make things right, Bates wants revenge, Anna wants the whole thing forgotten and Thomas wants to be on the inside of the secret. All we needed was the reappearance of Mr Green/Gillingham/Mini-Den and the whole thing would kick off. And, oh look, here he is …

But, of course, that's not all. Far from it. There were 47 other things going on. Please help us, not a political subplot with some frantic Googling of Lloyd George and a speech at Ripon! Yes, Uncle Julian, we know you are aware of a lot of contemporary period detail. It gets shoe-horned in when you remember. Why do you burden us with this when we are already preoccupied with Mini-Den, Edith's pregnancy and the deathly pallor in Cousin Violet's face? Plus, this sub-plot turned into another sub-plot about a new love interest for Branson, as well as his political reawakening. Exhausting.

I was inordinately stressed during the Dame Maggie scenes, as there was plenty of humour but it felt ill-placed. I don't want jokes about Cousin Isobel when there could be a death at any moment. Despite the speedy recovery, I am still very worried that Dame Maggie will not survive this series. If this is the case, it really should be the death of Downton itself. But at least it was a false alarm for now. Goody-goody.

What else? Lady Edith has bad feelings. She has had a pretty bad life, to be fair. And it's not getting any better. Aunt Rosamund was wonderful, veering between genuine concern and inevitable judgment. But Edith is right. She can't have this baby. "How did you find it [the 'place']?" "There was a magazine in the ladies' waiting room at King's Cross … " Oh dear. I can't see things turning out well in the abortion clinic, a place of darkness and copious weeping … But, what's this? She's changed her mind and it was all a waste of time! Dear me, I'm so, so tired.

The scene between Mr Green/Gillingham/Mini-Den and Mrs Hughes was superb. As was the closing scene with the cauliflower cheese. The rest of this series can only hinge on this question. Lady Mary: "We still can't find out who he was?" Oh, but we can. I'm sure we can. And so can Bates.

Random subplot alert

Don't let Alfred into the house! Make him stay at the pub! Everyone pretend they've got flu! This was excellent. Lovely interplay between Mrs Patmore and Mrs Hughes. "Appearances can be deceptive … " All the relationships here felt speculative and unclear. So we are supposed to think that Alfred might ask Ivy to marry him and then Daisy will be upset and Jimmy will be annoyed too? Just do it so we can see what happens next! Lots of narrative pussy-footing for little reward.

Surprise character development

Lady Mary's suitors all meld into one. And as for the dehydrated pig drama … I give up. How and why would the ill-defined suitor know anything about pig husbandry? And what on Earth was that muddy, slippy-over, agricultural food fight business? Would this be likely to happen? "What do I look like?" Like someone stitched up by a pointless plot twist, Lady Mary. Plus, there is no way Carson would not (a) hear someone in the kitchen and (b) let Lady Mary cook.

Golden eyebrow award of the week

"It's not my secret to tell." "If you wish to enlist my help … I must know the facts." Eyebrow Central between Mrs Hughes and Lady Mary. But Ivy wins this hands-down. Her face at the sight of the muddy aristos eating a breakfast they'd cooked themselves was a picture.

Excuse me, could you just repeat that awkward line of dialogue?

• "I hope we are good employers. But even we expect to get what we pay for." Lady Mary's calculating side is never far away.

• "You're quite a plotter when you want to be." I love it when Carson and Mrs Hughes flirt.

• "You seem so preoccupée lately." Fabuleux. Uncle Julian has been at Google Translate.

• "It's a good idea for estates like this to maximise and diversify." No comment.

Next week

There is a large garden party! Rose is determined to be with the jazz man. Dame Maggie seems as if she might know about Edith's (phantom?) pregnancy. Not sure how it's all going to wrap up in one episode. I'm sure Uncle Julian has loads of ideas. And he will put them all in.

It's over. But even after a truly exhausting series finale, we still have so many questions. Blink, and you may miss the answers

I said he would kill again. And he has. But what an anti-climax! And what a waste of mini-Den. I have calculated that they contracted him for 7.4 minutes of screen time for this entire series. Ah well, at least he made a big splash before he got pushed under the charabanc.

So what's the story from now on? Who is Lady Mary going to marry? Do we even care? Did Bates definitely kill and will he tell Anna? Has Alfred's mother really gone to live in Crewe? And is the suddenly important, potential future aristo-baby-owning pig man all he seems?

This episode was straight in with more random explanations of Mr Levenson (Cora's brother) and his complicated, unexplained business affairs. And two seconds later … Branson: "But what are my politics nowadays?" Who knows? Only you had better be able to summarise them in one sentence otherwise they won't fit into this scene.

Of all this series' outings, this one was truly the most exhausting and that is saying something. Look! One of the interchangeable suitors likes babies! Look! Branson's lady friend's car has broken down! Look! A church bazaar! Look! Lord Grantham is back from America! Look! Mr Green is dead under a bus! It was like period drama's answer to The Generation Game. All it needed was a reappearance from Matthew's funny mouse-rabbit thingy. Cuddly toy!

Among all the madness were moments of quiet brilliance. The scene where Anna told Lady Mary everything was a magnificent scene. I got chills all over. Beautifully acted. But such a waste. It was all of 10 seconds long. Indeed, blink and you missed a marriage or a baby or a newspaper editor still in Germany. As Mrs Patmore said: "He puts a lot in a letter, does Alfred." And he puts a lot in an episode does Uncle Julian. And all this was before Aunt Rosamund was preparing to take four months' worth of novels to a sanatorium in the Alps.

I adore Aunt Rosamund. Her suggestion to give the baby away to a pair of childless strangers in some unknown land was suitably deranged. "I thought I'd go to Switzerland! You know what the French are like. The Swiss are so clean." More stuff in case you did blink: Branson has a new girlfriend. Cousin Isobel has a fancy man. Thomas has seen America. Alfred's father is dead. Daisy's father-in-law has a lot of chutney he wanted to offload on someone.

Sometimes, just sometimes Uncle Julian finds the right words and the right tone. I must admit I almost had a bit of a weep about Alfred's basket, just like Mrs Patmore. It was the cider what did it. "Right now this really is goodbye." Oh, I wish it were. I wish it were. See you all for the Christmas special. It can't get any worse. Can it?

Random subplot alert

This business with Rose and The Jazz Singer was a long time brewing. Would she really go as far as to want to marry him when they hardly know each other? And how is it that he is able to travel up to North Yorkshire, casually, for no reason, when all his gigs must be in London? It was all doomed. And soon enough fizzled away into nothing. What a letdown.

Surprise character development

Mr Molesley knows what it is like to feel fragile! And now he wants to make a special cup of coffee for Baxter! Go, Molesley! The mouse that roared!

This has come completely out of nowhere and is, frankly, ridiculous. But I still quite liked it. Molesley has always been a favourite of mine. A character batted from pillar to post and subject to a great deal of Uncle Julian's Googlings to illustrate period detail (the white gloves, the tarmac episode, the preposterous bit where Bates wrote him a cheque for the equivalent of £3bn). I could have predicted that he would be the biggest fan of the bazaar. More Molesley, please, Uncle Julian. If you must continue at all, that is.

Golden eyebrow award of the week

Regular readers will recall that last season's Golden tweezer award (awarded for the most number of mentions in the eyebrow section) went to Carson, with close competition from Cousin Violet. This series the winners have been Lord Grantham/Carson (tie-break), Mr Molesley, Lady Mary, Cousin Violet, the greasy maitre d' in the restaurant where Bates and Anna went for dinner and, finally, Ivy. There is, therefore, no clear winner. Instead I have taken a unilateral decision (because I can) to award series four golden tweezer award to Cousin Isobel. "Yes, but you're better than nothing." "How warming you make that sound." She's usually more of an eyebrow wrinkler than a soaring facial punctuation mark. But she deserves some sort of medal for all the barbs Cousin Violet has put her way. And this week she bust out The Look. Cousin Violet: "I've read the card." Never has there been such an eyebrow. Never.

Excuse me, could you just repeat that awkward line of dialogue

• "It's only me." "I always feel that greeting betrays such a lack of self-worth." Cousin Violet to Cousin Isobel. Priceless.

• "Quite the businesswoman." Love Edith's hatred of Lady Mary.

• "A black singer with the daughter of marquis in a North Yorkshire town … Why should we attract any attention?" What's a nice boy like him doing in a tea room like that?

• "She wants you to enjoy yourself. And I want you to run the tent. Now, which of us can make your life more uncomfortable?" A late eyebrow entry from Carson. But too late.

Next week

There is no next week. What a relief.

An aesthetically pleasing if narratively disappointing feature-length episode, which promised many romantic happy endings, but ended with the amorous equivalent of a stale mince pie

Mrs Hughes summed it up early doors: "We're all tired. But not as tired as we're going to be." This episode was available ahead of Christmas, embargoed, on preview. Reviewers were asked not to reveal "what happens in the last scene with Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes." What happens? What happens? This is what happens: Carson rolls his trousers up one and a half inches, they get their feet wet in the sea and (gasp) hold hands.

Oh for goodness sake, Uncle Julian, is this what you make us hold out four series for? A glimpse of Carson's ankles? (They are quite sexy. And intriguingly hairless.) I expected at least one wedding, possibly four. Have you not read Jane Austen? Or are we supposed to think that now that Carson and Mrs Hughes have held hands and done some paddling that they are, in fact, married and going to have a little baby?

This was an aesthetically pleasing but narratively disappointing episode which must have been especially confusing for those forced to watch Downton as an ill-advised festive bonding exercise. In some sections there was too much exposition. In others, even I was left thinking "What? Who is Mr Sampson? Oh yes, the card shark. But who the hell is Evelyn?" and that does not bode well. (Evelyn Napier was the third Lady Mary suitor in the trio featuring Tony Gillingham and Charles Blake but, frankly, none of them have ever been properly established as characters.)

It was an outing that promised many explosive, champagne-popping romantic happy endings and ended with the amorous equivalent of a stale mince pie: sweet enough but a bad idea. At one point it seemed as if the Americans would deliver the goods: Mrs Levinson (Shirley MacLaine) with the greasy Lord and Harold Levinson (the long-promised Paul Giamatti - at last!) with the greasy Lord's daughter. Double wedding-tastic! But again, nothing. Not even Daisy got a kiss in the cold meat cupboard from the exuberant American valet. They were up for it. We were up for it. But it turned out the scriptwriter was just a tease.

So what was it all really about? We needed to see more about Bates' potential guilt over the Mini-Den episode. (Catch-up: Mini-Den raped Anna while everyone was at the Dame Kiri Te Kanawa concert and when Bates found out he pushed Mini-Den under a bus. Probably.) But now Lady Mary has burned the train ticket that put Bates in London on the date of the purported murder. Really, we are none the wiser. But at least the Russian refugees have got a decent overcoat out of it. (Eh up, Uncle Julian's been back on the Google.)

The main plot here about the Prince of Wales' letter to the "Wallis Simpson-only-not-Wallis-Simpson" woman was ridiculous. "What could be more revolting than to rummage through a strange man's socks?" Er, I don't know. Maybe the suggestion that two respectable ladies should break into a man's rooms and go through his things in a misguided attempt to protect the reputation of the Prince of Wales, a character we absolutely don't care about anyway?

Never mind all that, though. It was what Downton always is. Utterly beautiful and mesmerising to watch. Packed to the gills with sumptuous costumes and gorgeous locations. And superbly acted. Just don't listen, think or concentrate too hard. Probably just what people want on Christmas Day. Pass another glass of the cooking sherry.

Random subplot alert

As usual this was all one big tangle of subplots. The biggest, though, was The Edith Business. Lady Edith: "I must get some clothes now that I'm normal shape ... They thought it helps the baby to be weaned by her real mother." Cousin Violet: "Your French must be superb!" And now Lady Edith has become the editor? What? The editor is dead? He died in Germany? Or is it Austria? Switzerland? Oh no, he's alive. Just missing. And something about brown shirts. Bring on the Nazi montage in series five!

I am creeped out by "nice Mr and Mrs Shroder" in Geneva. No-one wants to be raised by them. But it's OK because Edith has inveigled the obliging farmer man from down the road who was part of a weird sub-tenant sub-plot noone understood in series four and he and his wife are going to bring up the bastard daughter while Edith looks on, simpering and aghast and providing regular cheques. "How comforting it is that there really are a few good people left in the world." Hmm. We'll see how that pans out.

Surprise character development

Baxter is standing up to Evil Thomas! With the help of Mr Molesley! "You've made me strong, Mr Moseley." But who can remember what Thomas has got over Baxter? I couldn't. So I looked it up and it seems it has yet to be revealed. This is exhausting. Too much is assumed. It's mystifying even for regular Downton viewers. I can't even begin to imagine what it must have felt like for people visiting relatives on Christmas Day and forced to watch this against their will. Do testify below. (And sorry if you came here for elucidation. There is none to be given. I can't see inside Uncle Julian's brain. Although I sometimes think that if I drank enough cooking sherry I would be able to.)

Festive Golden Eyebrow Award

Lady Rose made a late entry with her reaction to the recovered letter. But tonight's Eyebrow Award had only one contender, the winner of Series Three Golden Tweezer Award (for most eyebrow mentions): Carson. "It's normal in England. But it might not be in America." "Nothing 'goes on' at any house where I'm in authority." His reaction to the uppity American valet's "man to man", not to mention his OCD repositioning of the punch bowl, was exemplary. And as for his conducting the orchestra at the ball ... No Botox in the known universe is strong enough to halt this man's facial gymnastics. We furrow our foreheads in appreciation, Mr Carson.

"Excuse me, could you just repeat that awkward line of dialogue?"

• "I am sorry about my humble soup." – Cousin Isobel. We are all sorry about your humble soup, Cousin Isobel.

• "I've fallen through a looking glass into the Dejeuner sur l'Herbe." – Cousin Violet. She should have had far more corking one-liners in this episode, though.

• "You could always buy me a penny lick." Mr Bates to Anna. No comment.

SPOILER ALERT: This blog is for people watching Downton Abbey on ITV1. Don't read any further if you haven't seen episode six.

SPOILER ALERT: This blog is for people watching Downton Abbey on ITV1. Don't read any further if you haven't seen episode seven.

Viv Groskop's episode six blog

SPOILER ALERT: This blog is for people watching Downton Abbey on ITV1. Don't read any further if you haven't seen episode eight.

Viv Groskop's episode seven blog

SPOILER ALERT: This blog is for people watching Downton Abbey series three. Don't read on if you haven't seen episode one.

Viv Groskop's series two blog

SPOILER ALERT: This blog is for people watching Downton Abbey series three. Don't read on if you haven't seen episode two.

Viv Groskop's episode one blog

Its vintage Downtown as we return to the Abbey in 1924: Hi-de-Hi! meets The Towering Inferno anyone?

SPOILER ALERT: This blog is for people watching Downton Abbey series five. Dont read on if you havent seen series five, episode one.

Oh lawks. Here we go again. The labradors backside is back. And with it a whole load of other upstairs-downstairs shenanigans, from the enjoyably, camply good to the downright bonkers-implausibly awful. Book-ended by that comforting opening shot of Isiss ample, aristocratic flanks and a closing glimpse of Richard E Grants ample, aristocratic forehead, we entered series five with an episode that was vintage Downton. With all the desperate slapstick of Hi-de-Hi! interspersed with the screeching melodrama of The Towering Inferno, I have to admit that this weeks return offering was actually pretty good.

Sigh what a dismally dull affair this was. Do the producers really think the appearance of a toaster constitutes plot development? We need a wedding and fast

SPOILER ALERT: This blog is for people watching Downton Abbey series five. Dont read on if you havent seen series five, episode two.

Read Viv Groskops episode one blog here.

The plot is still all over the place but the weird Russians and a splendid turn from Spratt kept things bubbling along

SPOILER ALERT: This blog is for people watching Downton Abbey series five. Dont read on if you havent seen series five, episode three.

Read Viv Groskops episode two blog here.

Were halfway through the series, so lets celebrate with what must be the most hideous moment in the history of Downton, and possibly the English language

SPOILER ALERT: This blog is for people watching Downton Abbey series five. Dont read on if you havent seen series five, episode four.

Read Viv Groskops episode three blog here.