From time to time I like to sit and think about how the characters in Gavin and Stacey would be handling the lockdown at the moment. What follows is my best prediction. If you've got any better ideas, please add to the thread!

Gavin and Stacey are living apart - Stacey in Barry with the kids, Gavin in Essex. It was only meant to be for a weekend while Gavin visited the family but it was mutually decided that both parties would be safer staying put. They phone every night and miss each other loads.

'It's just so strange down here without you. And the kids are bouncing off the walls. Truth be told, Gav, so am I!'

'Come on, babes. This will all blow over soon and we'll be able to go back to the way things were.'

'I hope so. Love you.'

'Love you.'

Theme music plays...

Pam has a meltdown when she realises that she opened a letter that came through the door without first disinfecting it. The next day, she becomes convinced that her seasonal hayfever may be something more sinister.

'Oh my Christ. Mick! I've got the conoravirus!'

Despite Michael's protests that she's absolutely fine, Pam insists on social distancing at home, demanding that Michael leave her meals outside the bedroom door and sleep on the sofa for the next two weeks. Gavin enters the kitchen confused.

'It's your mum,' says Michael, rolling his eyes. 'She's convinced she's got the coronavirus.'

'Why?'

'I don't know, you try asking her!'

While in her room, Pam catches up with Dawn and Pete on Skype. The coronavirus actually HAS entered their household and the two are self-isolating from each other. Not because of the virus, though. They've just had enough of each other.

'He only went out with the boys the week before they closed the pubs, didn't he? I ask you, Pam. What sort of selfish pig brings a deadly virus into his own home? Well, I've told him. As soon as this is all over he's out.'

(The scenes in Dawn and Pete's home are as tense and painful as you would imagine. Let's be frank, forcing those two to live in each other's pockets for three months is the main draw of doing a Gavin and Stacey coronavirus special in the first place.)

Down in Barry, Gwen is trying to carry on as normally as she can. Observing the government guidelines but not panicking excessively. That is, until the supermarkets run out of eggs and she can no longer make omelettes. On her way into town to buy a ready-meal, she spots Bryn.

'Bryn!'

Bryn spots her and leaps back, breathless, panicking. 'STAY BACK GWEN!' he roars. 'Five meter separation distance.'

'Okay! I'm sorry!'

'It's nothing personal Gwen but you can't trust anyone these days.' He recalls an anecdote about a neighbour.

'What are you doing out then?'

'I'm out for my daily recommended exercise.' And he is, dressed in, God save us all, running tights. He mops his brow and taps his wrist. 'Just before we hit the worst of it I invested in a Fit-Bit.' (Hard emphasis on both syllables.)

'The wonders of modern technology. I'm having a race with a lovely girl from Aberdeen called 'Rajata'. Whichever of us has the least steps at the end of the month has to pay the other one fifty quid. She's a speedy one, though, Rajata. She never stops!'

Bryn has come to see himself as the voice of reason in Barry, hollering out of his window at those who flout the lockdown or exceed their one daily outdoor exercise. He keeps a chart but it's very well-meaning.

No one's heard from Nessa until we check in on her.

There is a knock at her door. A local man with the shabby appearance of a dealer stands on the doorstep. 'OH!' we hear her cry. 'FIVE METERS, ALRIGH?'

He steps back and the door opens. 'Sorry Ness. All on the doorstep.'

Ness inspects the contents of the bag with rubber gloves. Five potatoes. A box of eggs. A single loo roll. A large bag of pasta.

She nods, but doesn't smile. 'Tidy.'

She goes back inside. Awkwardly approaches SMITHY, who's now stuck with her. It was only meant to be a weekend, just to see how things went.

'For God's sake,' he says, 'I'll deal with all that. You stay here with Neil the Baby.'

'I keeps on telling you Smithy, I'm immune...'

'But you weren't ill!'

'I knows it alright? I was asymptomatic. You tell me this. Idris, Charlie, and Lee, all in the same week. What's the one common denominator there? I is.'