Rating:The long, long-awaited TV adaptation of Dame Jilly Cooper’s best-selling book Rivals was always going to start with a bang.And so it does. In a teeny loo on board Concorde, with serial philanderer Rupert Campbell-Black’s naked bottom hard at it.Bang, bang, bang, thuds the cubicle door as journalist Beattie Johnson’s scarlet stilettoed foot braces against the wall and her red nails dig deep for purchase. Both going at it with such greedy gusto that it’s a wonder the plane doesn’t veer off course.And for the viewer – or me, at least – a big sigh of relief that, finally, something has not been so sanitised and sterilised that all the joy has been scoured clean away. The long, long-awaited TV adaptation of Dame Jilly Cooper’s best-selling book Rivals was always going to start with a bangIn fact, Disney’s new eight-part TV adaptation of the second book in Dame Jilly’s multimillion-selling Rutshire Chronicles kicks off with so much sex and swearing and nudity and ridiculously brilliant, tongue-in-cheek fun that it almost feels as if, instead of chopping out some of Jilly’s joy, director Dominic Treadwell-Collins and his brilliant team of writers have added even more in.Everyone seems to be at it – noisily, enthusiastically, indoors in cramped spaces, outdoors in the blazing sunshine, invariably with someone other than their husband or wife.And everything ‘Jilly’ feels vamped up. The huge, sprawling honey-stoned Cotswolds mansion with croquet lawns, ha-has and herbaceous borders to die for. The dogs, everywhere. The endless boozing on champagne. The gigantic 80s hair. The non-stop smoking – in cars, in bed, post-coital on Concorde. But most of all, the razor-sharp humour and endless witty puns.According to the Disney press puff, the series, which is all about sex, power, money and a battle over a regional TV station, promises to bring a ‘2020s lens to the 1980s’. Not an easy task, squaring today’s delicate sensitivities with naughty Jilly’s obsession with bonking, boozing, groping and relentless political incorrectness.Not forgetting, of course, the central romance between super-stud Rupert, a former Olympic show jumper and Tory MP, and sweet Taggie O’Hara, who is kind, virginal, dyslexic and just 18 years old. Bloody hell – 18! How did we forget that?Which, presumably, is why – other than a 1993 film of Riders (the first book in the series) which was so awful and anodyne that most people pretend it doesn’t exist – no one in TV has dared tackle vintage Jilly.Treadwell-Collins seems to have adopted a rather more robust approach. Shove it all in. It kicks off with so much sex and swearing and nudity that it almost feels as if, instead of chopping out some of Jilly’s joy, director Dominic Treadwell-Collins and his brilliant team of writers have added even more inSo much so that there were not one, but two, intimacy coaches on set – ever ready to help with angles and advice. Plus an emotional support dog and a very strict policy decreeing that everyone had to behave nicely. Along with ‘scrupulous equality’ on nudity – very 2024. Which means that, for every appendage, we are treated to a pair of naked bosoms.And we start with Rupert’s. In a scene straight from Jilly’s 1988 book, he is naked, on a tennis court, bickering with an equally naked Emily Atack about who won the point.Casting Rupert – whose character was supposedly partly inspired by the Queen’s former husband, Andrew Parker Bowles – must have been a nightmare.Everyone who has read Jilly’s books has cast him in their heads already. And quite possibly done a few other things to him, too. But Alex Hassell is surprisingly perfect. Sneering. Cruel. Beautiful. Sexy and funny. He’d never read the books, but apparently his mother was a huge fan and actually blushed when he got the part.The whole cast is top notch. There is ‘scrupulous equality’ on nudity – very 2024. Which means that, for every appendage, we are treated to a pair of naked bosomsDavid Tennant fizzes with fury, chippiness and raw, rabid jealousy as Lord Tony Baddington. Claire Rushbrook is wonderful as his matronly wife. Aidan Turner – playing celebrity TV interviewer, Declan O’Hara – should never again be seen without his porn star moustache. Katherine Parkinson is superbly moving. The list goes on and on.But the Eighties deserves a special mention, too. The soundtrack bursting with Robert Palmer, the Eurythmics, Haircut 100, Hall & Oates. The brilliantly bad hair. The prawn-laden buffets. The shoulder pads, eyeshadow, taffeta, double-breasted suits and social climbing. It’s all so vivid you can almost smell the fag smoke and hairspray, wet dogs and sex.‘Real’ men are rich, powerful, caddish and take what they can grab. Women put up with it. And casual infidelity and opportunistic groping are par for the course. Many of us can remember that time – the very good bits and the appallingly bad and perhaps wish we couldn’t. The Eighties deserves a special mention, too. The soundtrack bursting with Robert Palmer, the Eurythmics, Haircut 100, Hall & OatesLord knows what Generation Z will make of it all. How they’ll cope with the sexism, the smoking, the relentless drinking and the suddenly very shocking moment when Rupert gropes poor Taggie as she tries to serve him a portion of her pavlova.Maybe Rivals should come with a health warning: ‘This is a bit of fun. Do not take it too seriously.’But do watch it, ideally with a glass of wine in your hand. Because it is a funny, glossy, joyful bit of sexy silliness, with some surprisingly moving moments. And, when everything else in 2024 begins to feel a bit grey and dreary and restricted, it will perk you up no end.