BILLY Connolly is not so much taking a daunder down memory lane as running through a marathon’s worth of memories. Earlier this month STV paid tribute with Billy Connolly’s Ultimate World Tour. Last night, BBC2 took him back to his roots in Billy Connolly, Made in Scotland (BBC2, 9pm).

Scotland has not always embraced the Big Yin with such gusto. His language, his humour, hobnobbing with the royals and Parky, living away, he was the tall poppy that many wanted to cut down to size. Glasgow had it trickiest. Connolly reflected the city in all its glory, and otherwise. It was the otherwise part that was the problem for some. Connolly talked about the drunkenness, the violence, the sectarianism, all that dirty laundry washed in public.

Made in Scotland showed he still had a clear-eyed view of Glesga. “It’s the blether, the laughs, the deep respect for culture that makes me love my hometown for what it is, not what it could be,” he said. But age had clearly mellowed him. If anything, he was too soft on Glasgow’s problem with drink. He spoke of his own sobriety only briefly. There was nothing, either, about his appallingly unhappy childhood, as documented in his wife Pamela Stephenson’s biography.

This was not the kind of film that went looking for trouble. This was a “home is the hero” piece that mixed interview with clips from previous films and tributes from the likes of Michael Grade, Val McDermid, Tracey Ullman and Eddie Izzard. The story it told was a familiar one, as were some of the tales, but Connolly’s narration was inspired. He painted wonderful pictures with words, as when he described a dense crowd, exiting Parkhead, lifting him off his feet so that he “levitated” his way homewards.

The best moments came when Connolly met his old mucker John Byrne for a wander round the National Portrait Gallery. Bill and John the Giggling Men … there’s a show in this if the new BBC Scotland channel fancies its chances.

The ABC Murders (BBC1, Boxing Day-Friday) were something of The Hercule Poirot Show. Writer Sarah Phelps was back on Agatha Christie Boxing Day duty after an interruption to the timetable last year. What a coup to land John Malkovich to play the Belgian detective. Many have tried the sleuth’s shoes on for size, but few have looked more comfortable than the Dangerous Liaisons and Being John Malkovich star. This was Being Hercule Poirot, with Phelps and her leading man delving into our hero’s past to explain the man he became.

It was 1936 and an age had made Poirot a somewhat piteous figure. Long gone was his celebrity, his days of holding “murder parties” for the rich. When he started to receive anonymous letters warning of murders to come he went to the police station, only to be snubbed by the new young inspector in charge, Crome (Rupert Grint). When he finally did secure a meeting, Crome mocked him. “Mr Pure-oh,” he said, making no attempt made to pronounce his name correctly, “you appear to be melting”. Poirot wiped a drip of hair dye from his face. You could almost feel millions of viewers wincing on his behalf.

The murderer’s MO was going through the ABC railway guide of British stations, killing someone in each town. Sadly, none of the towns were in Scotland. Had the murderer ventured north the ways of ScotRail would soon have stopped him in his tracks. (“Tried again today to murder someone in Edinburgh, but bus replacement service from Croy put the kibosh on that.”)

The England of 1936 was portrayed as a grubby place where foreigners were not welcome. One could see why some have chosen to see an anti-Brexit message here, but this was indeed the era that saw the rise of the British Union of Fascists. Alas, that was no invention.

Malkovich was quietly magnificent as Poirot, Shirley Henderson was her usual impressive self as the sleazy landlady pimping out her daughter, and Rupert Grint, showed once again that there is so much more to him than Ron Weasley. Bizarrely, the only flaw was the murder part of the tale, which seemed far-fetched, almost an afterthought.

Being the true story of a couple of nice, unassuming sorts who became Olympic ice dance champions, Torvill and Dean (STV, Christmas Day, 9.15pm) did not promise much in the way of drama, but it turned out to be one of the highlights of the week. We found out such a lot about the couple, including whether they ever were “a couple”, that it was like encountering them for the first time.

The director was Scotland’s Gillies MacKinnon (Small Faces), with William Ivory on writing duties and Poppy Lee Friar and Will Tudor as Chris and Jayne. Both were spot on, though she looked nothing like Jayne. The film ended with, what else, footage of the real T&D dancing Bolero. It was always amazing, and became even more so after finding out more about the couple who created it. Perfect sixes all round.