Up until midnight writing this crap. Still better than "Lewis"

Even I am surprised by how quickly ITV have picked up on my suggestion that “Lewis” should be transformed from a cop show to a man-on-man spectacular. This week’s serving was so preposterous that it is scarcely worthy of my spending time describing it. However, being worthwhile has never been a criterion that I have embraced. Let me just say that the plot was just about the most ludicrous to have ever appeared on television, even outdoing the disgusting deceit that in the 1980’s we had Margaret Thatcher as Prime Minister. As if.

Having run out of dons and tutors to bump off in Oxford, the scriptwriters have turned to the clergy as the latest victims of crime. Oxford will soon become a place devoid of pedagogues and priests. There will be no culture left, nor any spirituality. Good.

When I saw a red hot poker being withdrawn from a fire, and being prepared to be used as a murder weapon, my heart leapt, believing that our old friend Edward II was about to be invoked. But no, the poker was (off camera) pushed through a vicar’s eye and into his brain. If you think this was silly, you should have seen the whole programme. It also featured a transsexual This transsexual had been known to almost all of the characters prior to her bollockectomy, but none of them recognised her. She had no male characteristics, as ridiculous as the transsexual on Coronation Street – Deirdre or whateverhernameis. This one was clearly female, apart from a slightly deep voice, but never mind, it was so obvious that this is what the scriptwriters intended us to believe.

The writers have also been struck down with a severe case of Bradley Hardacre, having the protagonists verbalise all of their thought processes. The writers obviously suppose that we are as dumb as they are. The “as you well know” included an explanation of what the Garden of Gethsemane was, just in case there was anyone watching who had been to school later than 1970 and had therefore failed to be taught anything.

Fucking hell.

We are also back to the old Morse days where all of the characters bar one have to be murdered before the brains of the fuzz work out who is the culprit. One suicide and three murders in this one. If you are planning to move to Oxford, take out some comprehensive life insurance.

Anyway, to move on to the gay thing, as it were. I should, at this stage, point out that I do not think that I have a particular gift for writing gay porn. I am at a slight disadvantage in imagining the sight of Norman Tebbit being anally penetrated by Clint Eastwood to be more funny than erotic. Maybe I am wrong, and a new career awaits me, but for those of you wanting a meaningful description of what is to follow, I suspect that I need to apologise. Many of the characters in this episode were gay. I suspect that this device was used to prepare the viewer for the moment were Lewis and Sergeant Hathaway actually get it on. In one poignant scene, Lewis asks Hathaway if he is gay. It is early days yet, and the question was asked in a decidedly non-camp way. No protruding tongues nor any hip gyrations. I am sure this is to come next week. Lewis then has an entirely meaningless involvement in a sub-plot about allotments. In this he is advised by a fellow allotmenteer that it is no good attempting to grow peas or marrows on his plot. Carrots get the nod of approval. We all know what that signifies, don’t we children? Meanwhile, Hathaway begins a sexual relationship with aforementioned transsexual, probably just to make Lewis jealous. It is of course, quite common practice for HM Constabulary to conduct affairs with mass murderers. You will all have heard about Harold Shipman and James Anderton. In the end (no pun intended) Lewis rescues Hathaway from a burning house. “James!” he cries seeing his loved one unconscious in a smoke filled room. He slings him over his shoulder (despite being 20 years older and three feet shorter) and carries him down the stairs, carefully caressing the pert buttocks. We then see him lying atop Hathaway as the house explodes (some sort of metaphor) in a way that would qualify for “up the arse corner” in Viz.

The programme ends with them both back to pretending to be butch, but the viewer is left in no doubt what they are thinking.

I will give you an update next week unless the action gets too graphic. I really don’t fancy that.

******

For the benefit of those of you without access to what passes for British culture, here is a brief description of some of the items mentioned.

“Lewis” is a third rate detective show, taking over from the series “Morse”, whose lead character died of incredulity some time ago.

Edward II was king of England. He made the mistake of asking someone to keep his seat warm.

Coronation Street is a long running soap opera, with which I have a passing familiarity as it is watched by Mrs S. while I twat about on the computer.

Deirdre is a character in Coronation Street so hideously ugly that not even Tom would shag her.

Bradley Hardacre was a character in a sublime British comedy series called “Brass”, one of the running gags in which was to have one character explain to another a plot for the sake of the viewers, suffixed with “as you know”. The best use of this was the line (something like) “she went to Llandudno, as you did know”.

Harold Shipman was a doctor who prescribed unusual remedies.

James Anderton was the Chief Constable of Manchester, who believed God was talking to him. He was correct in this, but mysteriously missed the repeated requests from God to “shut the fuck up, you asshole.”

Allotments – plots of ground rented by local government authorities for the purposes of gardening.

Viz is a high quality British newspaper.

For those of you concerned about revicide, I should point out that Oxford is a safe distance from Norfolk.

The Garden of Gethsemane is a night club in Hereford. You daft bastard.

Margaret Thatcher is a fucking fascist twat. Where’s that red hot poker?