For my part I can't get enough of Miss Staunton, and if you're being completely honest with yourself, neither can you.
And so to Pride. Set in the mid eighties, the film depicts a most unlikely union between two disparate and downtrodden groups: the (welsh) miners and the lesbian and gay community.
Now you might be forgiven for thinking that the juxtaposition of poseurs in pink and men in hard hats would be a recipe for mayhem and hilarity. After all the boys from the valleys are as tough as old boots, men's men to a...well, man.
How these strong silent types will react when a gang of metropolitan queens arrive in town is anyone's guess. Chalk and cheese.
Such glaring incongruity should have signalled an ironic and comedic avalanche of immense proportions, but it never quite happens. Yes, there's a few moments of disgruntled masculinity, but the gay gang soon win the hearts and minds of the villagers from the valley. One might have expected a little more resistance, but no. It's all rather civilised, gentile even..
Pride is based on a real story of how a small group of Lesbian and Gays raised funds for the miners during their stand-off with the Thatcher government. Perhaps the Lesbian and Gays really were accepted by the miners with open arms - fine, but it hardly makes for compelling drama. Watching this film, you can't help but think that open goals galore are being missed.
What laughs there are, raise but a few titters. Crikey, for every laugh it does manage to get (an old lady who keeps saying "Hello gays") another hundred go flying off into the valleys, lost forever.
I'm not sure whether writing an ensemble piece was necessarily the best way to dramatise these events. Focus is split between nigh on a dozen characters all of whom have their own sub-stories. What this means is that the audience are never able to follow a particular perspective in any depth and hence the story as whole becomes somewhat diluted.
We have a lesbian and two friends, a sensible young man and his snobbish mother, a charismatic leader with more than a passing resemblance to Phil Oakey (replete with dangly earings). Then there's closet gay Bill Nighy, Miner's representative Paddy Considine, a bit of gay bashing and even a foray into AIDS. Phew!
Pride tries just a little too hard to cover all bases with the predictable result that it fails to settle on any particular one. On a more positive note, the film does avoid lurching into sentimentality. Amen for that.
The cinematography however is superb. We are treated to some stunning shots of the Severn Bridge and Estuary and one or two beautiful mountain panoramas.
Undoubtedly the most poignant moment of the film is saved until the finale. It's Gay Pride 1985. Our band of gay brothers and sisters are about to march forth, when coach load upon coach load of miners rock up in the Regents Park sunshine. One good turn deserves another.
But what about that old chestnut suspense? You know that thingy that Hitchcock was good at. The coaches arrive and all ends well, but there was never even a single will they or won't they moment.
Indeed, the first we even know of the miner's plans to join the march is when the coaches arrive at the very end of the film! Aw, even the teeniest of tiny teases would have been appreciated. Alas, it was not to be,
Will the miners overcome prejudice and support their gay brothers and sisters? Will they actually get onto those coaches whose final destination is, after all, a gigantic Gay Pride bash in the heart of Metro land? Well, yes, yes and er..yes. Phew! The suspense just kills you (not) darling.
For those who are coming to Pride in ignorance, it's more than a little surprising to learn that the characters depicted in the film are based on real people. Yes, it really happened. The bitesize biographies prove as much.
Overall one can't help feel a little underwhelmed by this film. It had a lot going for it: A talented cast and crew, generous funding, beautiful settings and the ultimate opposite attracts storyline.
Yet despite such riches, at the end of the day there's no escaping a script that is woefully short in even the feintest trace of suspense, conflict or indeed humour.
Sometimes, good intentions are just not enough.