"It's the year of our Lord 1625," announces the narrator of Dogtanian and the Three Muskehounds, an enthusiastically dubbed Spanish/Japanese cartoon from my youth. "Our Lord" being, in this context, Puppy-Jesus, for this is the story of Dogtanian, a noble canine sword fighter who battles the forces of evil in 17th-century Dog-France.

From Dogtanian I learned a lot about the parlous geo-politics and social structures of the dog olden-days. I learned about the Dog-King and dog monarchism. I learned that in the wild, dogs befriend straight-talking mice, that horses are the only species that cannot talk and are kept as slaves, and to be wary of mysterious, alluring cat-women (although tolerant of the interspecies marriage of Milady the cat and Porthos).

So great was Dogtanian and the ThreeMuskehounds that it was recently remade by the BBC, but instead of casting cartoon dogs they employed the leather- and-suede-clad human members of a 1980s hair-metal band (see picture). Furthermore, instead of titling the show Man-Tanion and the Muskehumans, the creators have opted for the snappier, The Musketeers (BBC1, Fridays). But I'm going to call it Man-Tanion and the Three Muskehumans anyway.

Man-tanion and the Three Muskehumans is now on its second enjoyably silly series and fans of literature might also recognise it as an adaptation of Alexander Dumas's The Three Musketeers (though there are four of them). It's the story of a bunch of counter-revolutionary monarchists who strive to keep a Tony Blair lookalike in power as king of France.

In each episode, Man-tanion, Porthos, Aramis and Fish from Marillion (Athos), travel around France, England (French people have English accents) getting into fights and having sexcapades with wenches. Thus far none of them have been tempted and confused by a sexy cat, but Aramis did have a sexcapade with the queen, who then, in a surprise move, gave birth to a dolphin (editor's note: she gave birth to a dauphin, the heir to the throne of France).

In the newest instalment (and it's on again tonight), the excellent Marc Warren turns up as Rochefort. He's here to replace the outgoing villain, Cardinal Richelieu (Peter Capaldi), who died of getting a job on Doctor Who. Rochefort does his best to hide his nefarious intentions, but this is difficult because he can't stop totally unnecessarily murdering people. It's like a compulsion. He can't go two yards without slitting a priest's throat or shooting a would-be collaborator in the back. If he had a catchphrase it would be: "Oh no! I've killed again!" The episode starts with Rochefort facing a lynch-mob intent on hanging him for some murdering he did, which is completely in character.

Soon he convinces the Muskehumans to come with him to rescue a French general from nefarious Spaniards. It’s secretly a trap, because Rochefort is a Spanish spy, but the Muskehumans are too wily for him. Man-tanion sneaks into the castle by swimming underwater with a dagger in his mouth and while sneaking around gets to see a lady’s arse (this is not gratuitous; this is a historical drama and that’s really what happened). Then all four of the three Musketeers, plus the now clothed woman, evil Rochefort and the French general escape the castle by traversing a deadly ravine.

The odds are against them, but luckily the Spanish soldiers choose to advance one by one with swords instead of attacking simultaneously while firing their guns (a technique that wasn’t invented until the 18th century). Rochefort fights alongside our heroes, but in a suspicion-arousing fashion that involves pausing mid-scuffle to consider murdering the goodies while looking shifty-eyed.

In the end, king Tony Blair of France decides to make Rochefort his right-hand man. This is clearly a terrible idea. Rochefort couldn’t be more obviously working for the Spanish if he was playing flamenco guitar, wearing a Spanish football jersey and named Spanishy McTraitor. But this is all lost on king Tony who thinks he’s great. “Why are you cackling maniacally and rubbing your hands together, Rochefort?” he asks. “Oh, not to worry, you’ll make a fine right-hand man.”

The Muske-humans just roll their eyes and polish their swords. And then the music kicks in. “One for all and all for one, Muskehounds are always ready . . .”