Whether you realise it or not, October 6th was a momentous day in television history. Perhaps most were too busy nursing their hangovers from a heavy night at Cindies, but it was this day that David Lynch sacrificed the time he’d normally devote to transcendental meditation or his questionable music career to confirm that a third series of his surreal 90s television masterpiece will be aired in 2016. For the fans, this harps back to the promise uttered in the last episode in 1991 that it would return in 25 years. But for the remaining oblivious section of society, allow me to enlighten you.

From the opening sequence, the show was enrapturing with its curious video footage of the local saw mill, a strange synth theme tune drifting through the background and the names of cast and crew flashing up in a green neon outlined text, which was startlingly reminiscent of the sort of word art designs you’d use on very important documents in primary school. And then it all ended after just two seasons. Yet, Twin Peaks never ceased to be of cultural significance, even if it did manifest itself in the form of Bastille’s turgid excuse for an indie record, ‘Laura Palmer’. Although this does deeply sadden me, at least it demonstrates how expansive the show’s influence continues to be and why this news prompted a ripple of anticipation throughout the media. Which characters will feature? How will Lynch and his co-creator Mark Frost address the unresolved issues? And, more poignantly, can the show really attain the same level of importance without the question of ‘who killed Laura Palmer’?

For the ignorant among us, here is a whistle-stop tour through the warped lands of Twin Peaks: Laura Palmer, homecoming queen and supposedly perfect high school sweetheart is found dead in the first episode, kick-starting an investigation into who killed her, headed by the suave FBI Special Agent Dale Cooper. Behind the façades of this ostensibly typical small-town they discover tales of adultery, highly developed alter egos and a criminal underworld. Superficially the show presents suburbia as idyllic, but then steadily exposes it as a toxic wasteland of corruption and debauchery (as you would expect from anything David Lynch has ever touched). I’m eager to see how the new series manages to explore these issues despite the 25 years that have passed since our last glimpse into that twisted world.

The fun does not end at perverted tales of the suburbs. After all, if you wanted to hear about tales of teenagers with secret lives and flawed parents you’d watch Gossip Girl. The reason that a third season of Twin Peaks is such is an exciting prospect is that when you start playing ball with David Lynch, you never know quite what he’ll throw at you. From owls that “are not what they seem”, to dream visions (think Chaucer but better), to demonic spirits and a terrifying yet benevolent giant who could have been Voldemort’s cousin, Lynch keeps you on your toes. The absolute pinnacle of the weirdness – which is quite an accolade – is the red room. A place visited early on in the first season but one that becomes enduringly and unavoidably embedded in your mind. New viewers should expect visually stunning red curtains and parquet floor, backwards talking and jazz music. Fingers crossed the red room makes a comeback too, and here’s hoping that we haven’t been desensitised to its surreal and often terrifying surprises – although a dwarf in a suit dancing to jazz is pretty hard to outdo.

Buried in amongst all this subversive activity is actually a pretty hilarious show, albeit a slightly surreal, 'Mighty Boosh' brand of comedy. For instance, there’s a woman who always clutches a particularly intuitive log that tells her the secrets hiding in Twin Peaks. The show is also famous for its one-liners, and I have every faith that Lynch will easily carry this into the new series. Without a doubt, Agent Dale Cooper’s cries of “damn good coffee!” will have even the most avid tea drinkers running to the nearest Starbucks for a Grande Black Americano.

One of my few concerns about this revival stems from the fact that I’m an absolute pushover for anything vaguely retro and so the unashamedly 90’s nature of the show makes me swoon. Be it Bobby Briggs’ classic floppy 90’s hair, the way the show appears to be shot through an Instagram filter (probably a weak Valencia look) or how it encapsulates the decade’s best fashion. Maybe as a show set in this era it won’t have the same appeal of nostalgic retrospection?

Perhaps part of the charm of watching old Twin Peaks episodes is the very fact that it went from having people on the edge of their seats, desperate to find out ‘Who killed Laura Palmer?’ to getting cancelled after just 30 episodes. Society moved on; perhaps we have a fickle, throw-away attitude towards pop culture. But no one forgot it; it became a cult classic, even a piece of art. Although I am unbelievably excited for what Frost and Lynch bring to the new series, part of me is terrified that a massive part of Twin Peaks’ charm is the sense that, like a member of the 27 Club, the reason it was so culturally influential was that it died too young; almost embodying the rise and fall of Laura Palmer herself. I worry that a new series will not only lack the appeal of the 90’s style you get re-watching it today, but also crush the esteemed reputation of this seminal show. But I guess I should stop worrying. Who knows? Dale Cooper himself summed it up perfectly when he said, “I have no idea where this will take us, but I have a definite feeling it will be a place both wonderful and strange.”