Midsomer Murders (ITV1)
OKAY, I confess. I might have dropped off in the middle of Midsomer Murders, but it didn't seem to make much difference. I was awake for the denouement and it still made as much sense as a speech by someone speaking in a foreign language.
Things That Go Bump In The Night didn't seem like one of Chief Inspector Barnaby's best cases. It was a very PC Plodding affair. It started quite well with a spiritualist group meeting that made you think of Madame Arcarti in Noel Coward's comedy Blithe Spirit - all rolling eyeballs and "Are you there Charlotte?".
It appears Charlotte was indeed at home as she warned through medium Rosetta Price: "There will be sorrow for someone this evening." She didn't just mean TV critics who nod off during detective dramas, although it didn't take someone with special powers to guess that one or more of the cast was going to end up dead.
The manner of the first victim's departure was interesting enough. The local undertaker was found stretched out on the floor of the chapel of rest, his wrists in pools of blood. If it hadn't been for the blood, I might have said it was overwork that killed him. The murder rate in Midsomer must be far above the national average.
The pathologist was quick to spot that he hadn't committed suicide but been banged over the head and his wrists slit afterwards. The open-mouthed expression on his face - like a man who'd just seen Richard and Judy's show - was proof that he'd had "a hell of a shock" before he died.
"Did your husband have any enemies?," asked Barnaby of his grieving widow, a woman whose behaviour indicated she was auditioning for a Greek tragedy.
This struck me as a particularly silly question. A friend wouldn't kill him, would he?
The most pressing problem was who was going to arrange the funeral as the undertaker was dead. The last we saw of the corpse was it being bundled into the back of a car for disposal.
Meanwhile, Barnaby plodded on, accompanied by his new faceless assistant Sergeant Dan Scott. I hope he's reported to the police that his personality has been stolen.
By now, Barnaby and his wife Joyce had gone off to the Spirit of Friendship group meeting, where messages were coming through loud and clear that there was "someone here tonight whose loved one is an avenging angel". He was rather put out by this name-calling. "I've been called many things in my time but never an avenging angel," he spluttered.
It emerged that the undertaker was a rogue who switched real coffins for hardboard ones just before cremation and didn't believe in burying people with their possessions. He'd take their jewellery and valuables to sell.
Well, he needed some enjoyment in life. His wife - the one from the Greek tragedy - admitted she couldn't bear him putting his hands on her after touching the dead. Not even if he washed them first. His hands, not the dead.
There was worse to come. Joyce's best friend got bashed over the head too. "We have to find the person responsible for this," said Barnaby, again stating the bleeding obvious. Clearly, all this country air has affected his ability to think straight.
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