The Governor is back.  Jimmy McGovern that is.  The Street returns to our screens for a third series, and Jimmy has penned the first episode.  Which is event television, in my book.  And even if this opener faltered a little towards the end, it was still head and shoulders above much of what passes for television writing.

Bob Hoskins plays the manager of a rundown pub that’s nonetheless got plenty to offer to its community.  Karaoke, quiz nights, special deals for pensioners, and two football teams paid for by local bad boy Tom Miller.  It’s Miller’s son Calum getting caught smoking in the toilets that propels the story: Hoskins bans the lad, to be consistent with previous behaviour and because publicans face a £5000 fine for people smoking on their premises.  Only, banning the son of the local hardman is not any way to get on in life, you know?

Hoskins soon discovers the truth of that decision when Miller says he’s going to be at the boozer Sunday afternoon — and will be asking for a pint each for himself and his lad.  Meaning we’ve got the makings of a confrontation on our hands.  As you might expect with McGovern, there are layers to what’s going on: the publican’s son has managed to get to university, while the letters after the gangster’s son’s name spell ASBO.  That factors into the tension between the two in a big way, and makes the emotions of the story more credible.

We know that trouble is brewing through simple and inspired visual touches.  Miller and his men are doing some local roadworks, and the brutality and noise of the machines ripping up concrete and pounding pavements foreshadows the violence to come.  Hoskins is determined to give a good account of himself though, and tries to rally the troops against Miller.  At which point the complexities of the situation become more apparent.  It’s difficult to get the football team to oppose the man who pays for their transport.  And while it’s argued that pub soccer is all about keeping kids out of trouble, at the same time the pub itself plays a big part in misdemeanours and mayhem in the area by swilling beer down the necks of all who want some.

High noon arrives.  Well, half three actually, but there’s a touch of the western about all this so you get the idea.  And Miller and his son come in and ask to be served.  Hoskins says Miller’s son is still barred, and that inevitably leads to Hoskins being brutally set upon by the hard man.  It’s ugly to watch, and quite right too.  The publican is taken to hospital, but swears he’ll be behind the bar again that evening.  Which he is.

And this is where things get interesting.  Miller and his son come back to the pub, and this time they do get served — but Hoskins passes young Calum his drink with an umbrella and straws in it, saying that his father has brought him up like a tart and should therefore be treated like one.  Which prompts Miller and son to exit the pub, tail between legs, and Hoskins to clear the pub of his regulars, who’ve shown a distinct lack of willingness to stand up to the bully in their midst.

Now, Hoskins chucking people out of his bar, I bought.  That worked for me.  But I’m not convinced that criticising Miller’s parenting skills would have had the effect it did.  Nor that it would have caused Miller’s wife to leave him with their son.  I like that outcome, but feel it was unearned.  Which leaves me wondering what Hoskins could have done to have achieved that result by another means that would have worked better for me.  I’ll let you know how I get on with that.  Which might sound like temerity, me daring to wear Jimmy McGovern’s shoes, but I know it’ll niggle at me until I find a resolution that I believe more than the one I saw, in what was otherwise an exemplary display of tv writing.