Given that this is a Fox show, and considering that the Fox canon also includes Married With Children and the aforementioned The Simpsons, you could be forgiven for coming to the conclusion that Rupert Murdoch must have had a miserable childhood with this continual televisual assault on the nuclear family. The archetypal image of the close-knit loving family is almost embedded in the collective national psyche of the average American thanks to shows such as Leave It to Beaver and Ozzie and Harriet yet now it’s the antics of Bart and Dewey that hold audiences rapt; the white picket fence is no longer being painted – it’s been torn down for firewood and the plume of non-conformist smoke is ruining Mrs Cleavers’ washing.

And so, picking up precisely where they left off, the Wilkersons ambled back onto our television sets and spent their time as we expected them to; scheming, plotting, whining, misbehaving and generally being boorish. Just like most normal families in fact. That’s the basic core of the show – the frayed, fraying and tattered relationship dynamics that exist between family members. This is a family where brothers try and inflict real pain on each other with unbridled glee and the parents try to maintain control by using a combination of mind control and physical punishment. It’s just the normal, everyday guerilla warfare of family life – and that’s why we so readily and easily identify with the Wilkersons.

This opening episode saw the family stuck in a traffic jam. However, despite being stationary we had Hal having an existential crisis, Lois – the ultimate control freak – losing control, Malcolm falling for a girl and Reece engaged in a battle of wills with a recalcitrant ice cream vendor. Oh and back at the ranch, Dewey continued his surreal road journey and Francis, still ensconced at Military School, engaged in a candy eating scenario that would have made Cool Hand Luke wince. This was a joyous 25 or so minutes of top-notch entertainment, a welcome continuation of the run of form with which season one closed, and augurs well for the extended season ahead.

With nine Emmy nominations, it’s clear that there is more to MITM than a handful of good actors and a decent script. Every role is played to near perfection by the cast. Whether it’s the man-child of a father, the control freak mother or the bullying, thick as pigshit elder brother, the performances are beautifully weighted and judged. The comedic timing of all is a joy to behold. Even the children display a superior and effortless ability to time it just right.

For too long we have endured a sickening procession of shiny haired, unfeasibly photogenic and unbearably precocious child actors from America. Thankfully, none of these caricatures inhabit Malcolm’s world.

But it’s the script that seals it. The subtle nuances of family life are lovingly captured by the writers and are held up like a mirror for us all to see. The ultimate pleasure of this atavistic, anomalous lunacy is that it is so firmly and deeply rooted in real life. There is an inherent element of realism that exists within the show that is rarely seen in other programmes. It is almost a living, breathing beast that permeates every aspect of Malcolm in the Middle and brings a wonderfully raucous sense of joie de vivre to the proceedings.

Families are, by their very nature, a constant struggle for recognition within the hierarchical structure. Families are a group of people who, sometimes, if they weren’t related, probably wouldn’t have anything to do with each other. Families are, by turns, war zones and safe havens. This is captured brilliantly by the writers and portrayed equally so by the cast. This is art imitating life imitating art. And a magnificent reproduction it is.

We all remember George Bush Senior publicly demanding that he wished a lot more American families resembled The Waltons rather than The Simpsons. The irony of this pronouncement was that America had long been trying to live up to the idyll of TV family life and, in roots of the failure to do so, the seeds had been sown for shows such as MITM, Married With Children et al. This is why the Wilkersons, the Connors, the Bundys and the Simpsons work so well and are so beloved – when the mirror is held up, we see ourselves as we know ourselves to be. Truth is stranger and – more importantly – funnier, than fiction.

Malcolm in the Middle is a true gem of a programme – that singular rarity – a programme that parents and children alike can both watch and, far more importantly, laugh out loud at. Having been initially put off by the comparison to The Simpsons that the British media used liberally prior to it airing, I must confess that I sat down to watch it in a negative state of mind. It seemed to yet another anodyne formulaic, cast/story/plot by numbers job that the American networks excel in.

However, I was joyously proved wrong – and I don’t mind admitting it. The premise of the show is that Malcolm is the kid with the high IQ who is the middle of three brothers still at home (the eldest is forced to go to military school after a series of mishaps) and it’s the story of his, and his family’s everyday lives. The balance between comedy and pathos is absorbing, the performances are beguiling and the direction catches the mood and style of the show effortlessly.

In particular Malcolm, played by Frankie Muniz, and his brothers are wonderful but it’s Malcolm’s mother, played by Jane Kaczmarek, who steals the show. Hers is a performance of consistent brilliance bordering on genius that should, at the very least, receive an Emmy nomination. Despite being the only female in the house, she is the central figure in the family – more appropriately, she is the eye of the incessant storm that is MITM. Despite being a show packed with male characters, the best lines invariably come from women. Witness when Malcolm’s mother answers the door topless unintimidated by the fact that Malcolm’s guidance counselor has arrived at her home for a chat, she merely offers, “they’re just boobs, lady, you see ‘em every morning when you look in the mirror.” And Malcolm’s teacher confessing that her life is empty and that all she ever comes home to are three cats and Bob … Bob being her showerhead.

The device of having the lead character talking directly to camera to express himself is an often overused and abused gimmick – but it works wonderfully here. The asides are sharp and pithy, and Malcom’s observations are frighteningly accurate. This was brilliantly exhibited by the youngest brother standing in front of the eldest and punching himself whilst making painful sounds. Mother appears, drags the elder one off and the younger one takes his seat and starts to watch TV with a contented smile. Malcolm turns to camera and proudly declares, “I taught him that!” Having been the victim of that ploy many, many years ago it truly resonated with me and was beautifully played.

What this show understands is that childhood represents a constant power struggle – with bigger kids, teachers, parents … and, of course, siblings. Malcolm and his brothers squabble with a ferocity that is rare on TV and is funny just for being so grounded in truth. At the same time, childhood is a constant bid for acceptance by the powers that be. This is the parallel theme of the show as Malcolm longs for acceptance by the “normal” kids – even after his cover of normality is blown.

In the States, this has become the first major post-Simpsons success in a number of years for Fox and it’s easy to understand why America has taken it to its heart. From the opening theme (played by the magnificent but cruelly underrated They Might Be Giants) to the end credits, this is a wonderful half-hour opportunity to view the world through the eyes of a 10-year old kid. With his endearing yet cynical wit, Malcolm navigates his way through the sometimes treacherous, always entertaining waters of childhood. But, as he says, “The best thing about childhood is – at some point it stops.”