There is something immediately joyous about Two Way Stretch. The score, supplied by Ken Jones, plays beautifully over some whimsical title cards, typical of British films at the time, and it sets up the tale perfectly.

Set in a British prison, Robert Day’s 1960 comedy tells the tale of a group of three prisoners – Peter Sellers, Bernard Cribbins and David Lodge – who operate their cell like a homely bed and breakfast, with contraband food and drink, a radio, daily newspapers and even a pet cat called Strangeways. They receive a visit from a man purporting to be a vicar (played by Wilfrid Hyde-White), but who is actually a conman who has hatched a plan to use the three prisoners to carry out a large-scale diamond theft. They’ll be broken out of prison, steal the diamonds, then broken back in. A classic farce.

Sellers is brilliant throughout, providing natural comedy at every moment. In 1960, his film career had just taken off with a BAFTA win for his leading role in another British comedy, I’m All Right Jack. By 1962, he was starring in Kubrick’s Lolita before being cast in Pink Panther. This is a perfect opportunity to see Sellers in his prime, fresh from radio, making his way on the big screen. A comedy legend at his best.

There are some moments of real hilarity. A visit from some elderly ladies provides Sellers with the opportunity to play a few tricks, whilst the smuggling of contraband into the prison on visit day is a shambolic hoot. The real gold starts with the arrival of Lionel Jeffries as the officious Chief “Sour” Crout, who brings a real counterpoint for the trio of protagonists. The comedy is all underpinned by a solid plot that keeps things moving forwards.

Two Way Stretch is a pure joy from start to finish and a perfect snapshot of British cinema at the start of the 1960s.