.....I rarely watch tv. Maybe 3 or four hours a week. When I do watch, it is usually quality light BBC drama. Dr Who, or Life on Mars perhaps...
....so when I noted that the series "Bonekickers" was produced by Ashley Pharaoh (who was involved in Life on Mars and the follow up 1981 thingy) I earmarked it. The fact that it was set in Bath, just down the road, was an added interest.
.....so I watched one.
I am now investigating the possibility of taking the BBC to court for depriving me of an hour of my life that can never be reclaimed....
...and I am sure I would have won, but for the fact that I went back and watched a second, incredulous that anything could be so strikingly awful.
Clunking, obvious plot twists, declaimed by one character to another repeatedly lest we miss them (it would be easier, and preferable, to hold up a cue board instead with the plot clues whilst the entire cast gave a knowing wink).
..... I initially thought one episode (about a saintly black presidential candidate, who somehow ends up in a gun battle on Lundy. Don't ask) might have been penned by the Barack Obama campaign team. Except that I think they would baulk at anything so gut wrenchingly mawkish.
....as for this week's tosh involving Joan of Arc and a WW1 tank.... well. Words fail me.
So that is two hours I am owed by the BBC. Time that I could have spent in a more productive fashion (like, for example, curling into a foetal ball and emitting low moans)