Iam trying to narrow down my favourite scene from Ghosts. Perhaps it’s 1980s Scout Master Pat (Jim Howick) creating his own radio station – adverts included “Buy cheese. Please” – then realising no one can hear him on account of him being dead. It could be whenever 17th-century witch trial victim Mary (Katy Wix) accuses swans of being “Lucifer’s lackeys” or calls a camera a “one-eyed metal cow”. Then there’s the episode where the plague sufferers who live in the basement become stans – ie obsessive fans – of tortured romantic poet Thomas (Matthew Baynton), only to lose interest when they actually hear his poetry. The beauty of Ghosts – the much-loved BBC sitcom whose fifth and final series airs this month – is that this description could either be a highlights reel of top television or the ramblings of a particularly intense fever dream. If you haven’t yet had the pleasure of Ghosts, the premise is simple enough: when you die, you spend the afterlife haunting the location of your death … wearing the outfit you died in. This is particularly unfortunate if you are the 90s Tory MP Julian (Simon Farnaby), who wanders around without trousers after dying in a sleaze scandal, caught for ever (literally) with his pants down. Our ghosts are spending eternity in Button Hall, a dilapidated stately home recently inherited by young couple Alison (Charlotte Ritchie) and Mike (Kiell Smith-Bynoe). After falling from a window and nearly dying, Alison develops a new ability: she can see ghosts. What follows is a classic ensemble comedy that is somehow both gently reassuring and gag-heavy. Recent years have seen the dominance of the “dramedy”, where some of the best comedies being made (such as This Way Up, Feel Good and Pure) tackle serious issues such as suicide and sexual abuse. Like other “comfort blanket” shows such as Ted Lasso and Schitt’s Creek, Ghosts goes counter to the trend: when the world is a bin fire, comedy doesn’t have to have a worthier aim than to make the viewer smile. One of the reasons this show works so well is that the creators are skilled at world-building: the rich set-up gives every character their own foibles and provides gags that are unique to the premise. Some of the best humour derives from culture clashes between ghosts from different historical periods. See Lady Fanny Button (Martha Howe-Douglas) and Mary watching Loose Women, or Pat, stuck in the 80s, proudly trying to explain any form of technology to the older ghosts. Other gags come from the existential question: how would you pass the time if you were stuck in a house with eternal flatmates? For our ghosts, the answer is a series of organised activities (improv club, film night, etc) and quite a bit of quarrelling. Written by the team behind CBBC’s Horrible Histories, the show has a childlike quality (especially some of the jokes, such as all the “Fanny” puns) but it never seems juvenile. It is all anchored by the calibre of comedic acting. Robin the caveman’s eyebrows alone are funnier than most BBC One sitcoms. The strength of Ghosts is that the show can be as moving as it is funny. One of the most poignant storylines is the gay second world war army captain (Ben Willbond), crystallised in the flashback to his secret love for an army colleague. His repressed sexuality is both tender and a smart running gag. Nothing is said out loud but the audience is left with a subtle understanding (contrast this with the heavy-handed version in the US adaptation). Meanwhile, the episode in which Mary finally gets “sucked off” to her final journey in the afterlife is a beautiful reflection on grief and mortality. And who didn’t shed a tear at the dining scene that closes series three: when Alison’s long-lost sister turns out to be a fraudster, the ghosts use their improv skills to share a family meal with Alison and Mike – despite not being able to eat. Few episodes master that blend of laughter and tears better than the Ghosts Christmas special. While Mrs Brown’s Boys churns out its 78th seasonal showing, Ghosts has become the highlight of the BBC’s festive schedule (last year’s outing secured 5.9 million viewers, making it the biggest comedy of the year). When – in last year’s special – Alison finds some old home videos of Pat’s family Christmases from before he was killed, there can’t have been a dry eye in the country. It is ironic that a show about the dead has the power to be so life-affirming. But over the past four years, the ghosts of Button Hall have created a joyful warmth that few shows about the living master. In doing so, it will bow out as one of the best British comedies of the decade. RIP Ghosts. You will be missed.