TV Review

I don’t watch much TV, as it is mostly stupid, but today I have a house guest and this evening they have been watching Midsomer Murders, a hardy staple of British television starring ace detective Mr John Nettles.

I regret to announce that this programme also appears to be mostly stupid.

In the programme this evening, someone was Murdered. A very common occurrence in the village of Midsomer, it appears, hence the name. But nonetheless, ace detective Barnaby whatsisface-oh-it’s-John-Nettles-isn’t-it was on the scene to investigate the deadly doings.

Needless to say, one Murder was not enough, and as the Murderer sought to cover their tracks (or at least fill two hours on a Wednesday evening), more and more Murders were committed. One unfortunate gentleman, who had come to fix the automatic sliding doors, was killed by those self same automatic sliding doors, a remarkable display of what might be called irony. The Murderer, in an astonishingly well-thought-out scenario, observes Mr Door Repair Man making the doors open, and close, and open, and close, and then just as the door is a little bit closed, cuts off the power. The door therefore remains mostly closed, with just a small space between it and the wall.

Mr Door Repair Man scratches his head and seeks to address this problem by (firstly), taking the Sliding Door Remote Control and throwing it into the room, apparently quite deliberately, just beyond his reach. Then he sticks his head through the gap between the door and the wall and grunts a bit. Quite what this was meant to achieve is not certain. I am not an expert in sliding door repair and I could not seek to speak for that industry. Nonetheless, the repair attempts are successful for Mr Door Repair Man has fallen into the Murderer’s incredibly far-sighted trap, as now all they have to do is restore the power to the house. The doors inevitably attempt to close once more, despite the presence of someone’s head in between them and the wall, and the carelessness of Mr Repair Man having (for no good reason) thrown the remote control just beyond his grasp results in a certain amount of dramatic tension.

Presumably these are especially high-powered and unsafe doors, as instead of Mr Door Repair Man saying “Oh, gosh, blast, dearie me, that’s not very comfortable”, and giving the door a shove to stop it (which is of course what would happen in real life), instead he goes “Urgh! Urrgh! Uck! Aargh!”, and slumps to the ground, entirely dead and Murdered.

Later on while questioning, suspicion falls upon the village tradesperson who installs sliding doors, because, and I quote: “He would know how to use sliding doors as a weapon.” This particular line of dialogue, apparently entirely serious, passed completely without comment or incident, despite its entirely preposterous nature.

It’s not them, of course. But later on they get killed too, by the entirely incongruous means of sitting in the back of a Landrover which has been filled with concrete. Apparently by a Murderer who somehow wanted to choose the loudest, noisiest, most easily-observable means of sending someone to an early end. However, it doesn’t seem that there are any other obvious villagers who would know how to use concrete as a weapon.

Suspicion then fell on the vet. He has a collection of tropical fish, and it is certain that he would know how to use tropical fish as a weapon. But some ace detective questioning, of the sort of “Was Mrs X with you at all times, in which case only you can be the murderer, or did she step out of your sight, in which case it might have been her?” reveals that it wasn’t him either. Good job it wasn’t him, really. A guilty man would surely never have jumped at such an obvious get-out.

Mrs X, it seems, was really interested in the vet for the other inevitable perks of his job, and therefore being the only one in the village who genuinely did know how to use ketamine, jellyfishes, scotch glasses, concrete and sliding doors as a weapon, the case naturally concluded itself.

Don’t forget to unplug your set. Goodnight.