Glee is a very clever piece of work indeed. It manages to function as a comedy, a high school drama, a musical and more at the same time. More than that, it does so while fusing ironic humour with straight ahead song and dance routines. Quite a juggling act, and one that I hope will be sustained in the series proper when it debuts on E4 in the New Year.

The show’s DNA almost certainly owes something to the success of High School Musical, about which I know nothing but the success of which is glaringly obvious given I encounter no end of merchandise when I visit supermarkets and record stores. Mix that with a twist of Fame, and a dash of Mean Girls, and you’ll have a good idea of what to expect.

The story is pretty straightforward — what lifts it is the style with which the whole is accomplished. Seemingly every part is cast perfectly, character emerging within moments through whatever genetics has done to shape someone’s face and body, and costume that accentuates implicit character. Thus we encounter the disciplined media-savvy sports coach, the financially-driven principal, the sassy black siren and others. Fast edits ensure the whole moves with great pace, leading the viewer in pursuit of new nuggets of story.

A glee club is a high school musical society, and after the teacher leading the one at William McKinley High is suspended to become a drug dealer peddling the medical marijuana he’s prescribed for stress, a new teacher takes over. Will was part of the club back in his own McKinley days in the early 90s, and wants to enthuse the kids with the passion he felt for music and dance.

All very well, but wife Terri has very different plans for Will. She’s got a bigger passion for Balinese mahogany toilet brush holders than their slender joint income can cope with, and wants him to take a sensible grown-up job with one of the retailers she is obsessed with. And that’s the way it looks things will turn out initially, until a colleague reconnects Will with his passion for the glee club.

That’s Will’s story anyway. But to some extent that’s an excuse to get us to watch the antics of the teens. They’re initially dominated by Rachel, the singularly showbiz focused daughter of two gay men who won her first dance competition at the age of three months. She wants the glee club to succeed, and it looks like there’s no credible male partner to work with her — until Will blackmails Finn, one of the football team who’s also a fine singer, into joining the gang.

It’s quality stuff, with a sharp script that delivers humour along with interesting beats. And it moves fast, bang bang bang. Along the way, it also demonstrates a cavalier but intelligent way with writing devices: one scene is narrated by Will before Finn in turn takes up the monologue baton. Unusual and effective.

There’s something very American about the whole thing. American high schools really do have glee clubs, which have a Broadway pizzazz about them that was lacking in the productions I remember from my school days. I don’t recall Busby Berkeley dance routines and rearranged versions of Bee Gees songs in the version of Ben Jonson’s The Alchemist we did at any rate.

The series was created by three men who were active in their own schools’ glee clubs: Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk and Ian Brennan. They’ve been astute in devising something that hits so many buttons. The song and dance elements can’t help but echo the likes of X Factor and Pop Idol, and the songs are well chosen, mixing show tunes and cheesy rock ballads to good effect. The music industry approves: some artists are letting Glee use their songs at discount rates, and one episode will feature Madonna tunes throughout, Madge having let them access her back catalogue for nothing.

This isn’t a show for everyone, but its catchment is pretty wide. And you’ll have a good idea by now whether it’s a show for you. I thoroughly enjoyed the pilot, and will do my best to catch the series when it kicks off in January.