"SHE'S dead, wrapped in plastic."
So said actor Jack Nance in one of the first scenes of the first episode on the cult TV programme Twin Peaks.
Sitting around a battered television in the first shared house I ever lived in, my housemates and I were gripped from that moment.
Over the next few episodes creators, David Lynch and Mark Frost introduced viewers to the most weird and wonderful set of characters that would leave indelible marks on millions of minds.
The log lady, the petrifying Killer Bob, one-eyed martial arts expert Nadine Hurley and the investigating FBI officer Special Agent Dale Cooper, with his love of coffee and cherry pie.
Twin Peaks was, for want of a better phrase, was my generation's version of Breaking Bad, The Wire or Boardwalk Empire.
A vogueish American drama series that threw out fresh and intertwining stories each episode that even now, 25 years on, I'd struggle to remember which one's reached a conclusion and which one's are still unsolved.
Now, hopefully, some of them will see their loose ends tied up after Lynch and Frost this week revealed that filming will begin next year for nine new episodes that will air in 2016.
And I can't wait.
For the uninitiated, Twin Peaks started as a basic who-dunnit.
Laura Palmer, the local beauty queen in the Washington State town - population 51,201 – was found dead (wrapped in plastic, of course) in the river.
Her life, on the surface, seemed idyllic. She volunteered at "Meals on Wheels" and was engaged to the college football captain Bobby Briggs.
However, as the first series unfolded, her seedy double-life was slowly revealed.
She was a cocaine user, a victim of child abuse and had briefly worked at One Eyed Jacks, a brothel and casino.
Lynch's and Frost's writing and direction dragged us all in at 110 St Andrews Road, Bristol, where I was living in 1990, and a lively house fell silent every time it was broadcast almost 25 years ago.
Weeks later, the first series ended and we were left wondering quite what was going on.
Like much of David Lynch's work, the series explored the gulf between small-town respectability and the seedier layers of life lurking beneath it.
And millions of us drank it in.
To counteract that, of course, there were also millions of people who hated the show at the time.
As with every programme, it has its backlash, with one mate of mine calling it "pretentious tosh that never finished any of its stories".
This week a pal of mine on Facebook, speaking of the announcement of the new episodes, wrote: "I can't wait for Twin Peaks to come back so that I can happily live my life not watching it, just like the last ones".
And I understand that. After all, there are hundreds of programmes I've tried watching and following over the years about which I feel the same.
But there's something about those characters – Windom Earle, the backwards-speaking dwarf and the giant who comes to Agent Cooper in a dream and tells him "the owls are not what they seem" - that will draw me back in.
So fire up the percolator and get me "a damn fine cup of Joe" because I'm ready to hear that theme music again and immerse myself back into David Lynch's wonderful world.
