Amongst the programmes over Christmas this week included a dramatisation of David Walliams' children's novel, Mr. Stink.

The story follows a young girl, Chloe (Nell Tiger Free), the eldest daughter of a vile right-wing mother (Sheridan Smith) who wants to become an MP, and whose main policy is getting the homeless off the streets in any way possible. Chloe encounters a tramp, who goes by the name of Mr. Stink (Hugh Bonneville), so called because of his terrible odour.

Mr. Stink's only companion is his dog the Duchess (Pudsey, the winner of Britain's Got Talent), and so Chloe becomes friends with him and eventually persuades him to move into her shed - all while trying to avoid the wrath of her mother.

It's no surprise that this and indeed all of Walliams's children's books have a heavy influence from Roald Dahl. Much of the humour in Mr. Stink's visual, which for a pre-watershed children's comedy isn't a surprise, but it was good. It ranges from Chloe's younger sister Annabelle (Isabella Blake-Thomas) taking part in a historical re-enactment society dressed in full medieval armour, to both of them giving Mr. Stink a full makeover. There are also the throwaway comments in the show, such as Stink claiming that he is "lice free, but no stranger to worms."

In terms of a children's comedy, this seems to tick all of my boxes. It's inoffensive, it's witty, and it's not too childish so adults can watch it without feeling embarrassed. No doubt that more Walliams novels will be adapted for future Christmases.

A man watches an episode of Outnumbered, sees Daniel Roche as the ruthlessly logical, constitutionally yet unmaliciously troublesome middle child Ben and thinks: "You know, there hasn't been a decent adaptation of the Just William stories for over 30 years. Bring me that eight-year-old boy and his agent."

Just William: The Sweet Little Girl in White (BBC1) was the first adaptation by Simon Nye of four of the hundreds of stories Richmal Crompton wrote about her hero. Aimed at William's own age demographic, it was half an hour long, went out at lunchtime and delivered a quick, charming romp through an adventure that encompassed all the most important elements of the Brown universe - the Outlaws, Jumble, woodland trespass, irate gamekeepers, eventual triumph over adult adversaries and the resplendent presence of Violet Elizabeth Bott. No one, of course, who has seen Bonnie Langford's incarnation (or indeed Bonnie Langford, full stop) can ever truly expunge the memory, but Isabella Blake-Thomas's version was probably quite thrillingly terrifying enough for this mollycoddled age.

The glory of William himself is impossible wholly to capture outside the books because so much of it comes from the contrast between Crompton's high style and William's relentless atavism, but the greatest danger is that he becomes in translation simply a naughty, cocksure boy - a danger not lessened by the borderline smugness of the pathologically confident young characters in Outnumbered. Thanks to what I suspect was a concerted effort by director, cast and crew, not excepting, of course, Roche himself, this was avoided, and William did not slip into generically slappable mischief-maker but remained the belligerent idealist of legend.