Put the kettle on at 8:50pm or pour yourself a wee dram. Then try and answer the questions. What’s going on?
What has Marcus Thurwell in the fuzzy picture from Spain got to do with it? What has that awful hard-nosed Detective Chief Superintendent Patricia Carmichael really up to? What is CHIS? What is the OCG? What is H? Y? What is that Maciver fellow talking about now?
There are more false trails in the BBC’s Line of Duty than yon cunning Indian laid down for John Wayne with fake smoke signals in that dire movie I can’t remember the name of. You missed Duty? You’d better start watching it on the catch up player thingummydoodah. Just six episodes to watch before the seventh, the finale, which goes out on Sunday night (May 2).
Northern Irish boss Chief Superintendent Ted Hastings has some great lines. He introduces himself as: “Superintendent Hastings – as in the battle.”
He frequently has exasperated outbursts with a religious theme. No, I won’t repeat them here. Now that he’s being forced to retire by nasty Patsy, he’s even more exasperated. Ruthless Carmichael barks: “Just answer the question, mister.”
What will we do on Sunday nights? What’s on the other channels?
She makes me shudder deep down – which means actress Anna Maxwell Martin is doing a rather fantastic job. How is Scot Kelly Macdonald as under pressure Jo Davidson? As she herself burbled constantly at the weekend: “No comment.”
Dropping Es in Aberdeen
I had no comment either when I heard someone was dropping Es in Aberdeen. I wasn’t ecstatic. Then I heard it was Standard Life Aberdeen, the asset management outfit, which is changing its name to Abrdn plc. See how they dropped the Es? So trendy. Drop a few vowels. People have guffawed at this rebrand and said Abrdn could also be a contraction of ‘a burden’.
Poll: What do you think of Abrdn plc’s name?
Standard Life Aberdeen is in Edinburgh, not Aberdeen. I can’t explain that either but I know disemvowelling, as those clever marketing people call it, is now a thing. The internet has quite a few – Flickr, Tumblr, Scribd and so on. Bands also do it. BLK JKS (Black Jacks), CHLLNGR (Challenger), HTRK (Hate Rock) and SBTRKT (Subtract). But is Abrdn going to be a burden to Aberdeen?
I will really miss this series of Line of Duty after Sunday. No more looking up at screens and being ordered to look at document X in folder Y. No more meetings in tunnels and car parks. No more long beeps from the DIR before they start recording an interview.
What will we do on Sunday nights? What’s on the other channels? Well, if this coming Sunday is anything to go by not a lot. Snooker, again. Formula 1, again. Yawn. James Bond, again. Sleeping now.
Politicians causing nightmares
Not that I can sleep much. It’s this awful insomnia. I can’t sleep because too many awful things are going on, giving me nightmares. Election fever is starting and Labour leader Anas Sarwar is dancing to Uptown Funk while Tory leader Douglas Ross is narrating Atomic Kitten’s song Whole Again in the style of Lee Marvin on a very bad day, four CalMac ferries are currently broken, and Boris is diverting attention by setting up an investigation to find out if he himself paid for DIY at 11 Downing Street. Just answer the question, mister.
I think I’m going to have to ask the PM myself. Then again, I don’t have his mobile number. The secretaries won’t put me through. I know – James Dyson claims he answers service calls personally and he will have Johnson’s mobile number. Oh, he’s engaged. I wonder who he’s talking to.
And I wonder when this insomnia will stop. It seems like I only slumber properly once a month. Still, only eight sleeps until Christmas.
Watching Line of Duty reminds me that I get nervous for no reason when I am talking to police officers. It’s been worse during lockdown. When I got stopped by a patrol the other week, I was driving back from the West Side. The sergeant told me to pull down my mask and asked why I was on the road during restrictions. I explained I was working – doing deliveries. “Fine, carry on.”
As I got ready to drive off, the younger cop stared. He came right up and he was like the Hebrides’ own Constable Patricia Carmichael. He growled: “I know that face from somewhere. Just answer this question, mister. Have you got a police record?”
So I had to make a full confession. I said: “Don’t Stand So Close to Me.”
