Disaster strikes in the Raj when it's revealed that the famed British Devils In Skirts who occupy India, wear underpants under their kilts. The absence of which was something that kept the natives living in fear.

Awards and high praise for the "Carry On" franchise is like a dog that speaks Irdu, extremely rare. Granted, few of them rise above "titter me this madame" like comedy, and some are not fit to be used as coasters. But look inside this 31 film run and you find a handful of gems, a couple of which are fit to be on any list of Great British comedies from the 60s. One such film is Carry On Up The Kyber, which arguably is the best of the bunch. Directed and written by the usual Thomas/Rothwell team, Up The Kyber is a genuinely funny, knowing and original comedy.

It's pretty much a given that the best "Carry On's" were the costume spoofers. So here we be in India in 1895, in the company of The Third Foot And Mouth Regiment {snicker snicker}and Emma Walker's fabulous costumes. Innuendo is kept to a bashful level as opposed to smutty overkill, the humour more concerned with taking pot shots out Imperialism and upper crust ignorance and snobbery. Officer's chain of command and the stiff upper lip in the face of certain death, oh yes the band really will play on. There's also smart jokes such as the one in my title, and watch out for a sly Rank Organisation gag. All dealt with cunningly and sharply by the likes of Sid James, Joan Sims, Kenneth Williams and Peter Butterworth. Character names remain ridiculously charming, Rhandi Lal, Private Jimmy Widdle, Bungit Din {leader of the Burpas}and Brother Belcher. While the set pieces, crowned by the now famous dinner party finale, are excellently constructed.

Subtitled "The British Position In India," this is not your standard saucy seaside postcard picture {try saying that fast three times}. Hugely entertaining for a myriad of reasons, it's actually something of a British treasure that's still delighting newcomers to it each decade. 8.5/10

Subtitled "The British Position In India", I was recommended to see this film by my friend Rav, who reportedly "busts a gut" every time he see Kenneth Williams in blackface and turban. I was pleased to have seen it on recommendation as it made me feel less guilty about viewing a Carry On that is vested not only with the usual quota of bawdy sexism, but also a generous dollop of racial stereotyping.

Yet despite it all, Carry On Up The Khyber still manages to be a very funny film. I can't claim to have seen the entire series (this was the 16th of 30 movies),but what I have seen leads me to cite this as probably the best. Produced at a time when Britain still had a significant film industry, the picture is allowed to play out without any of the desperate mugging and over-emphasised pauses that punctuate the majority of contemporary English comedy movies (including, ironically, Carry On Columbus, the ill-advised 1992 "comeback").

Khyber is relaxed because it knew it had a ready-made audience, and the humour also works because it is self-aware. Desperately cheesy lines (such as Peter Butterworth saying "What pretty earrings... are they rubies?", only to be met with "No, they're mine") are delivered shamelessly, and with a timing that acknowledges how truly awful some of the one-liners are.

Occasionally there is a line that plays to a higher audience, such as Kenneth Williams yelling at a man banging a gong: "I do wish you wouldn't keep doing that... Rank stupidity". There's also some slight political references to the famous slogan "I'm Backing Britain" and mention of the British being used to cuts, though I'm afraid I'm far too young to know what these are directly referring to. Generally, though, the humour is a series of puns on the word "Khazi" and rejoinders such as Sid James and Williams: "I'd even go so far as to say you're a bit of a shot". "Well, I hope I heard you correctly".

Even so, the humour, particularly constant attempts to nearly-ape the "f" word, did cause problems with the censor. In particular Bunghit Din's (my favourite Carry On member, the underrated Bernard Bresslaw) hilarious line of "Fakir - off!" was ordered to be reshot with an additional pause between the two words.

The rapid-fire pace of the gags mean that infrequent clunkers (such as Joan Simms attempting the old "call me an elephant" - "okay, you're an elephant" line, ancient even by Carry On standards) are quickly forgotten in the wealth of material. Superbly directed as well, particularly the closing scenes where the British (who are lampooned as much - if not more so - than their opponents) keep a stiff upper lip during bombardment.

The whole plot is, of course, absolutely ludicrous, suggesting that the final days of the Raj came about when a British regiment was discovered wearing underpants. The whole thing is the sort of film that would never be made nowadays, which is in many ways a good thing, yet there is a certain knowingness behind the eyes of the actors that keep it from dating.

A series of films carried on, with perpetual double entendre, loved to finger an organ, unleash melons to gorge on, baps, flaps, jugs, bazookas went ding dong.

Though it's not quite so funny today, Fanny plays with her balls in new ways, Dick's choppers been cut, Kitty's curtains are shut, the clams gone from splayed to being spayed.