The vicar's holiday replacement is a paradox from the start--with the word LOVE on his blue denim jacket, PEACE and Sixties-model flowers on his car, he comes roaring through the gate most unpeacefully, scattering pedestrians right and left. And though he does yoga head stands, he has no qualms about calling in brutal. looking troops, uniformed and armed with clubs and tear gas, to whisk church cat Sampson off to the pound and rid the vicarage of the resident mice. (It seems he's terrified of the rodents.) Children young enough to overlook Oakley's arbitrary (if not vindictive) characterization, and old enough to admire the series' plush gentility and swarming chaos, can enjoy the usual wild action and appreciate the many witty touches as the mice stage a protest march at the new curate's garden party or, later, chase him naked from the bathtub smack into a parade of dignitaries on the street. Ripe and voluptuously upholstered, as always.