New Tricks: Farewell Gerry Standing


                                                                                  Last Man Standing

I really do think the BBC have made a colossal blunder in cancelling New Tricks after this series, but then their recent history has just been one colossal bollock after another. Dennis Waterman has now departed the series, the last original member of the cast, paving the way for Larry Lamb to step in as Ted Case, who we met during the course of tonight’s episode. It’s now a completely different programme, a superb example of refreshing and renewing on the run, so to speak, and it doesn’t deserve to die.

There was almost no humour in this episode, and a deadly seriousness throughout the complex story that crossed two eras in unravelling the death of a Police Inspector in 1982, and the true role Gerry Standing played in his death as opposed to the framed-up appearance that Gerry had actually killed someone.

The episode led with a funeral, with Steve McAndrew, Danny Griffin, Sasha Miller and Deputy Commissioner Strickland in attendance: in short, the whole of UCOS bar Gerry Standing. It was too obvious a signal, it couldn’t be Gerry’s funeral, it wasn’t going to be decided on a cheap death. But as the hours shortened in which UCOS could retain control of the case, and in which Gerry, with Danny in tow, raced down the vital evidence that laid everything bare, whilst the official investigators, Sasha and Steve, ran up against further, cleverly implanted, frames, the more and more it became impossible for this to be anyone else’s ceremony.

Lamb turned up as the only honest copper in a team that should have been investigating graft and corruption, to hand over the vital files that cleared Gerry, but also to provide the clue to the one piece of evidence that Gerry had been keeping back: that he had framed the dead Inspector Ackroyd as being an honest rather than bent cop, about to cough on the Chapman family.

Gerry had even warned Ackroyd, told him to get out, had believed all along that he had done so, until the body emerged. He had been responsible for Ackroyd’s death, and in the face of the danger it could bring to him and his family, Gerry stood up and made a statement.

It might be cliche, but within the parameters of the story, there was an inevitability to it all, leading at last to the turn of the key in a car’s ignition and the bomb that blew it all to blazes.

So it was Gerry’s funeral after all, except that there was something false to it. Gerry had known all along what he was doing, with his refusal to go into Witness Protection, because it would have destroyed his daughter’s life by having to drag her in with him. Strickland ended up going to Gerry’s gangster pal, Tommy Naylor, for help, but Gerry already had it sewn up (it’ll be interesting to see if Naylor ever pulls in that favour: he’s going to have to do it fast if he wants it).

Because the bomb went off and the car blew up but Gerry wasn’t in it. Can’t leave his old mates to mourn, so the funeral gets interrupted by a tweet with a photo of a red Mustang on a Brooklyn Street, with the Last Man Standing behind the wheel: no wonder his Caitlyn wasn’t looking that upset during the funeral.

So go it then, Dennis Waterman, a consummate performance to the last, and New Tricks is completely retooled and ready for a future that’s not got much left to it. No longer Insubstantial Airfill: this has now got ballast.

Insubstantial Airfill: With Regret


For one last time

A year ago, when the BBC’s long-running comedy-drama cop show, New Tricks, started its annual outing, I wrote about it under the rubric above: Insubstantial Airfill: something light, entertaining, but ultimately no more than a pleasant way of spending an hour. I was almost immediately surprised by a series of rather more serious themes and stories, that dialed back on the comedy pedal, and in several cases went into some very dark and serious places.

It was all down to the renewal aspect, with three of the four original cast members replaced, by Denis Lawson, Nicholas Lyndhurst and Tamzin Oughthwaite, in order of seniority, and this year the show is losing Denniw Waterman, his character’s name of ‘Last Man’ Standing turning out to be appropriate in real life.

Waterman is appearing in only the opening two episodes of the new series, after which his replacement will come on board – and in my by now usual manner, I have no idea who that’s going to be, and am waiting to find out in the best way possible, by watching the series.

Unfortunately, now that the BBC has made New Tricks something to watch for more than just the whiling away of another hour, it’s also announced that this is to be the last series. And if this opening episode is anything to go by, that’s not just a disappointing decision but a bloody stupid one to boot.

We’re only halfway through Jerry Standing’s exit, but it’s been a complex and decidedly downbeat story so far, further evidence of the changes the new cast have brought in, because you couldn’t have managed this with the overt comedy of the originals. Summarising, a skeleton discovered in the basement of a house being firmly renovated turns out to be former DCI Martin Ackroyd, missing for thirty years. Ackroyd was briefly Jerry’s boss before disappearing, and was supposedly investigating Police corruption. Jerry clearly knows more about it than he’s telling UCOS, and from the look of him he doesn’t want it coming out

The episode bounced backwards and forwards between the present and thirty years gone, a beautifully exact recreation of the look of the early Eighties, down to the film stock, with actors who genuinely look like younger versions of their contemporary selves. Yes, there was graft, yes Jerry was in on it, but only working in secret for Ackroyd, to bring the villains down, and yes, he’s mates with a rival crook, Tommy Naylor, now a high-powered gangster.

In short, Jerry’s innocent, but it doesn’t take much in the way of framing – given his secretiveness about everything – to draw and colour in a picture that has so many guilty aspects. Indeed, the first half ends with Sasha Miller having to arrest Jerry on suspicion of murder.

It’s a sombre episode that you couldn’t have got away with if the team were still Jack Halford, Brian Lane and Sandra Pullman (each of whom get passing name-checks along the way) because you couldn’t have taken it seriously enough. This looks bad, it looks like no way out, and you can genuinely see it ending very badly indeed.

I’ll be watching every episode of this series furiously, since that’s all there’s going to be. Just as New Tricks has grown into something worth watching, it’s getting the chop. Somehow, the BBC can’t do anything right any more.

New Tricks’ Old Tricks


The old gang

In the run-up to Xmas, BBC1 dropped in a New Tricks repeat on Monday night, featuring the original cast. In view of my comments about the new tone the series has taken with its revised team, I thought it might be interesting to re-watch this episode and compare the two.

“The Gentleman Vanishes” was originally broadcast in 2011 as episode 7 in series eight. I’d watched it at the time but didn’t recall anything of it until the very effective and disturbing ending. The episode was notable for being the show’s all-time most successful episode in terms of audience, pulling in 9.87m viewers on its original broadcast, It also featured the first of three guest appearances of Tim McInnerny (Captain Darling in Blackadder Goes Forth) as Stephen Fisher, a somewhat shadowy individual in intelligence and a former crony of UCOS’s boss, Assistant Commissioner Robert Strickland.

As a comparison between the old lightweight New Tricks and its somewhat more serious modern incarnation, “The Gentleman Vanishes” was a spectacularly bad choice. It was played completely straight from start to finish in a well-plotted and ultimately dark story that involved the (thankfully offscreen) physical and mental torture of a person ill-suited to resist even gentle societal pressure. The individual eccentricities of the characters were kept well in check: Sandra Pullman’s temper, Brian Lane’s voluability, Gerry Standing’s wide-boy, all were underplayed. Only Jack Halford was fully in character throughout and he was always the sane and sensible one.

The re-opened case was the disappearance in 2004 of scientist Philip McKenna, an expert in cold fusion whose disappearance ended his research project. The episode’s title was a nod to the iconic pre-War Hitchcock film, “The Lady Vanishes”, about a woman disappearing on a moving train. McKenna had been abducted in a clearly professional operation, from the London to Dover train, during a short delay resulting from someone pulling the communications cord. But someone had taken his passport and completed his journey via Ferry to Calais, and thence to Paris, where McKenna was due – at short notice brought about by a burglary that had deprived his research partner of his Passport – to present a paper.

Thus McKenna’s disappearance was not noticed until two days later and was initially thought to be in France. This meant that his actual removal from the train was not discovered until the trail had gone long cold.

The case had been brought to UCOS’s attention when McKenna’s wife, Bea (a delicate portrayal by Rebecca Front) started receiving emails suggesting the sender knew where her husband was, one of which included a document purportedly coming from a Swiss company that showed clear evidence of work developed from McKenna’s researches.

There was no new evidence as such, but UCOS made progress by identifying a currently imprisoned conman as one of the men involved in the abduction, which opened the door to further leads. Halford used a pet hacker turned internet security expert – a typically nervous, would-be jovial performance by Shaun Williamson – to trace the emails, though this resulted in a dead end of sorts: they were the work of an anonymous superhacker known only as ‘Ninetails’.

But this sparked a connection in Brian Lane’s memory to Japanese mythology, and Kitsue, portrayed as a fox with nine tails.

In the meantime, we’d been treated to a splendidly superior, faux- superficial performance by McInnerny as Fisher, ostensibly warning UCOS out of waters too deep and dangerous for them, but dropping the name of Simon Crane, who turned out to be the mastermind behind everything, and a former British Intelligence Agent with sufficient dirt on sufficient people to be, effectively, untouchable. Unless arrested for murder, that is.

As became increasingly clear the longer the episode went on, McKenna was long dead, broken by evidence of his wife’s brief affair with, naturally, Simon Crane. This set up a Police operation at Paddington, aimed at capturing Crane and his associate, Fisher having tipped off UCOS as to where and when to find Crane. Meanwhile, thanks to Lane, ‘Ninetails’ had been identified: Kitsue was a fox, or rather A. Fox, aka Alice Fox, the girlfriend of McKenna’s former research assistant, who’d briefly appeared as a person suspicious of the Police.

Alice, it transpired, had been the third part of the abduction, pulling the communication cord, but unaware of the intention to torture and murder McKenna. She’d been living in hiding ever since, avoiding being killed. But when UCOS set things up at Paddington, Alice stepped in. With the net closing, all communications, radios and CCTV failed. Crane fled, pursued by Halford. Lane went a different way, followed, in advance by Alice, in a striking floor-length leather coat. In an access corridor there was a shot, offscreen. Halford let a screaming young woman, crying there’d been a shot, go past him: he and Lane found Crane shot dead. Not that, cynically, anyone expected Crane to face a proper trial anyway.

The episode ended on a disturbing moment. The team, with Strickland, leaves UCOS’s office heading for the pub. As Lane manoeuvres his bicycle out, behind him a laptop screen comes to life. It shows CCTV footage of the concourse at Paddington. In the centre of the screen, looking into the camera, was Alice, in her leather coat. After a few seconds she raises something in her right hand, points it at the camera: the image winks out.

So: an uncharacteristic episode, played straight: comedy/drama without the comedy. Kudos to writer/director Julian Salmon. It was an excellent episode, the more so in its ending, but in terms of comparing the series now to then, all but useless. Nevertheless, a useful reminder that New Tricks’ reputation as a dull, stale show was not always deserved.

Insubstantial Airfill – A Deeper Moment


A couple of weeks back, I wrote about my enthusiasm for the BBC’s long-running comedy/drama Police cold-case series, New Tricks, which I described as Insubstantial Airfill. That designation should now be waived, at least once, in respect of episode 3, broadcast last night under the title ‘Deep Swimming’.

The cold case crime to be investigated was the accidental death, in 1982, of a political activist, blown up by a malfunctioning home-made bomb at a peaceful protest: Winston Lovatt left behind a wife (Alison) and a six-year old daughter (Bryony). In the modern day, Bryony has just won a well-publicised Sex Discrimination case, after which she receives an anonymous letter stating that her father – who she had publically acknowledged was a terrorist – was instead murdered.

The back-story was set in the era of Greenham Common, and fittingly, the latter-day ‘witnesses’ that UCOS had to question (with an underlying distaste that didn’t lie sufficiently under the surface – and which in the case of Jerry Standing hovered about six feet in the air) were all women – splendid performances all round, especially from Charlotte Cornwell as Alison, and Katya Wyeth as Mary Griffiths, a former Angry Brigade member.

I suppose I should have seen it coming, but then when a programme is Insubstantial Airfill, you come to expect that it won’t include genuinely serious issues, but the twist in the tale was the revelation that Winston Lovatt was not a political activist, but instead a Policeman: a Special Branch operative who had gone undercover, under deep cover, to investigate political ‘subversives’, and who had married and fathered a child in his false indentity, stolen from the grave of a young boy dead at the age of 8.

Sensibly, from the moment this came into play, the inter-cast jokeiness was almost completely banished. The creators too the story very seriously from this point, focussing on the moral complexities and the horrific effects on the innocent people drawn into this deeply buried lie. This was all the more effective for not being spelt out in the script any more than was absolutely necessary, but instead being left to the actresses themselves to show the reader the depth of their feelings in their faces: the hurt, the confusion, the anger, the vestiges of love, the complete undermining of trust. In this respect, the much less well-known Patricia Potter, better associated with rife Insubstantial Airfill Holby City, outshone everyone as Bryony, with a performance of great delicacy with many levels.

Whereas the first two episodes ultimately identified their murderers as obscure, unimportant characters who the audience were led to believe were extremely peripheral, the twist to ‘Deep Swimming’ was that Winston Lovatt wasn’t even dead. or rather he was, but Ben Harker of Special Branch was still very much alive to confront a family he hadn’t seen in three decades, and especially a daughter he said he loved, and who rejected his very existence as a father.

A very deep, moving and excellent episode, that handled its change of pace with aplomb, confidence and maturity, and filled itself with Substance.

It’s only Insubstantial Airfill – but I like it.


The original cast

It’s closing in on five years since I last had a television set, and I can’t say that I miss it. Indeed, I’ve forgotten the whole experience of having 24/7 television available, channels and channels filling with airwaves at every conceivable moment. Water, water, everywhere, and not a drop to drink.

I haven’t given up on watching television though, it just means that what I watch is what I want to watch, given the extra lengths I have to go to even see it: iPlayers, catch-up TV, DVD boxsets and such like. Programmes such as Dr Who (roll on Saturday), Sherlock, The Killing, The Bridge. And, naturally, The Big Bang Theory.

What I watch is by choice, and not by habit, or lazy inclination, a surrendering to that vast amorphous mass of programming that, in all its disparate forms, can be lumped together as Insubstantial Airfill. You know the kind of programmes I’m referring to: games shows and reality series, pointless documentaries, uninspired sitcoms and phone-it-in dramas that amuse or mildly thrill for an hour then are gone, and all the audience does is change channels looking for something slightly different but equally anaesthetic.

But what is life without a little inconsistency? Do I contradict myself? Why then, I contradict myself. I am large, I contain multitudes.

Though I’ve never quite understood why, I do find myself happy to watch the long-running BBC1 comedy-drama series, New Tricks, series 11 of which began on Monday night. It’s a typically formulaic piece of work, mixing the inherently serious subject of police procedural work and the detection of crimes – usually murder – that have disrupted and damaged lives at the deepest levels, with the comic eccentricity of characters who are improbably set, and even more improbably highly efficient at resolving these issues and bringing about closure. All overlaid, naturally, with the soap opera aspect of these eccentrics’ ecentricities overflowing into their personal lives, week-in, week-out.

The concept of the series was built around the fictional Metropolitan Police Unsolved Crimes and Open Cases Squad (UCOS), a ‘cold-case’ unit created in the one-off pilot as a cynical publicity stunt designed to ward off complaints without ever being intended to be taken seriously. It’s first commander was DCI Sandra Pullman (Amanda Redman), a work-obsessed career policewoman whose high-flying career had just been derailed by a high-profile operation that had got a dog killed: UCOS was a hole in which to bury Sandra, as was evidenced by her staff. UCOS’s budget extended not to serving officers but to civilian consultants, i.e., three ex-coppers, who had left the Force under different circumstances.

The idea was that these three old coppers, with their old-fashioned approaches to detection, would be thrown up against the new-fangled technologies of DNA and the like, which they would distrust, and which they would disparage grumpily whilst producing results that derived more from old-style coppering built on newly-determined evidence.

The trio consisted of ex-Detective Superintendent Jack Halford (James Bolam), ex-Detective Inspector Brian “Memory” Lane (Alun Armstrong) and ex-Detective Sergeant Gerry Standing (Dennis Waterman). Halford, who was Pullman’s former mentor and her unofficial second-in-command, had retired after his wife had been knocked down and killed. His was a more or less straight role, an old-fashioned copper with a loathing for crime, and a voice of sanity and calm. Lane was a recovering alcholic with a degree of OCD, a photographic memory for cases and criminals and a long-suffering wife: he had left the force when still drinking, after a suspect he’d brought in died in custody, an incident for which he believed he had been scapegoated. And Standing was the Jack-the-Lad, maintaining (and occasionally re-seducing) three ex-wives and a flash car, who was on chummy terms with most East End lags, the only straight copper in a unit more or less bought out by a villain, who’d ended up being forced to resign over graft allegations.

New Tricks found a modest but substantial audience to begin with but, as series followed series, it began to grow in popularity. Series 3 ended on a cliffhanger, with Halford having found out that his wife’s death was not an accident but murder, having been run down on the orders of a villain annoyed at being investigated: Halford planned to run the man down in retaliation, forcing Pullman and his two colleagues to drive into his path, causing a horrendous collision. Audiences shot up for series 4, when the aftermath was revealed, and the programme would on a number of occasions actually top the weekly viewing chart for BBC programmes.

As New Tricks gained in popularity, UCOS began to gain in respect. Supporting characters would be added to the squad for longer periods, usually younger coppers to contrast with the aged trio. Deputy Assistant Commissioner Robert Strickland (Anthony Calf) became an increasingly supportive character, ever conscious of political and public factors but allowing these to influence the team less and less. The longest running supporting character was Esther Lane, Brian’s much put-upon wife, played, ironically, by Susan Jameson, James Bolam’s wife.

I’ll be honest, little or nothing changed. Brian might suffer a relapse into drinking, but a few episodes later it would be conquered. Sandra was perennially poor at relationships, forever hopeful but doomed to betrayal and self-reliance. The cases usually involved murders, though the sources were well-varied. The team would start by summarising the old evidence for the viewer’s benefit, move on to reinterviewing witnesses, roughly 73% of whom being hostile to the death being brought back up. Stones would be turned over, and we would follow what crawled out. Usually, the script would offer up a potential villain, only for it to come out, in the last ten minutes, that somebody else was responsible, usually someone you’d disregarded early on.

It was part of the game to identify the real villain, not by the ancient and honourable tradition of deciphering clues, but by using the show’s ambience to lead you into recognising which seemingly innocent character would be unveiled as having a previously unsuspected motive for violent death.

New Tricks was never a particularly serious show, though it dealt with serious stories and when it chose to do so, it could operate on that serious level to great effect, and very movingly. It tried to incorporate a degree of cop show action, though this grew increasingly implausible given that the cast were getting visibly older all the time and that Redman, whilst still an attractive woman, had filled out since her younger days and made an implausible athlete (especially in heels). In fact, the show might have worked just as easily on Radio, had we had such a thing as a thriving radio drama audience any more: it was very dialogue heavy.

Eventually, the cast got bored. Bolam was the first to leave, saying the show had gotten ‘stale’. Jack Halford bowed out in the opening episode of series 9, distracted from the case under review, detached, and eventually disclosing only to Brian Lane, on condition of secrecy, that he had inoperable cancer, and was disappearing to a south of France village of sentimental importance, to die unbothered. Daringly, the series left it for three episodes before replacing him with ex-Detective Inspector Steve McAndrew (Denis Lawson), a Scot who assists UCOS on a case with Glasgow elements, and is invited to join the team.

But both Armstrong and Redman were now unhappy with the show and expressed their wish to leave. There was an amusing twist to the final episode of series 9, in which neither appeared (nor were credited) and which took place in Glasgow, with Gerry and Steve detached to advise the Glasgow police on setting up their own UCOS. For a moment, it looked like a radical change might be in the offing, but that wasn’t so.

Series 10 began with everyone in place, but the first four episodes were built around a running story that, despite clearing Brian Lane’s name over his dismissal from the Police, led to his sacking from UCOS. He was immediately replaced by ex-Detective Chief Inspector Dan Griffin (Nicholas Lyndhurst), a significantly younger man than the rest of the team, though a choice made on the recommendation of Brian. And Sandra, having built UCOS up to a fine, well-respected unit, which she was loath to abandon, nevertheless saw a new future for herself, moving upwards again at long last, joining an international unit dealing with crimes of greater subtance.

That left the show’s newest member, newly promoted DCI Sasha Miller (Tamzin Oughthwaite), in her first command, only two episodes to establish herself as the new team-leader.

So, series 11 continues the show with only one of its four original stars still remaining. How successful is it with such sweeping changes to its core cast?

Firstly, the newbies aren’t quite changes to the status quo. Each of the replacements has been chosen to maintain continuity of balance within the ensemble. Steve McAndrew has replaced Jack Halford: whilst he’s younger, more physically active, and capable of getting more emotionally involved than his predecessor, he’s still the straight man of the team, the least burdened with overt eccentricities. Lawson plays his character gently, and whilst he lacks the seniority, his steadiness leaves him on course to be the first lieutenant, especially as he’s no longer competing with Halford for Sandra Pullman’s opinion.

Danny Griffin has replaced Brian Lane as the team eccentric, the man most likely to know something obscure and not apparently relevant. Lyndhurst has chosen to play Griffin in contrast to Alun Armstrong’s volatile, exciteable Lane: Griffin is very internalised, unexciteable, but decidedly capable of sarkiness. I’ve not followed Lyndhurst’s career closely but this strikes me as the most mature role he’s played.

And where Brian had Esther, Danny has Holly, his CP daughter, played by CP Actress Storme Toolis, who was a scene-stealing, irresistable blast in her every scene in series 10. She’s supposed to be off to University in episode 2, and the absence of her name in the credits suggests she may have been written out, which would be appalling. Both actress and character are simply too good to ignore.

And as for Tamzin Oughthwaite, as Sasha Miller, she’s dropped into place with incredible ease, already looking like a fixture with years behind her. In part this is because her role strays the least from her predecessor: attractive blonde, strong commander, a slightly less dominant waspishness. It’s on the personal front that Sasha strays further from Sandra. Sandra was unmarried, without children, lacking judgement in men. Sasha, nearly a decade younger, begins as married, contentedly, to a fellow Senior Officer, with two children, conveniently of University age and off-scene, only to find her husband cheating on her before her first episode’s over, ending the marriage.

As yet, this has not developed very far, though the scuttlebutt about series 11 is that, for a few episodes at least, her ex-husband temporarliy replaces Strickland as being responsible for UCOS.

The opening episode was a typically New Tricks experience, though it saved its twists until the very end, with the true villain being pulled from very far out of left field, having made only a brief appearance, nowhere near the frame. It was a slightly odd choice, though beautifully conveyed by the actor, who wasn’t really a murderer as such. And there was a nice, if unrealistic twist to the outcome, which hovered on the border between sentimentality and lack of reality without quite falling.

So an almost complete transplant of the cast has been carried out in respect to New Tricks, without serious damage to its gentle straddle of comedy and drama.Feet are still maintained in both camps and there’s still the likelihood of a certain revivification by phasing out a cast too comfortable in, and defined by their roles. New options are available for exploration, and if the BBC can take advantage of this without straying too violently for the programme’s comfortable core, there’s every prospect of a season 12, this time next year.

It’s still Insubstantial Airfill, but I unaccountably like it, and am happy to continue doing so.

Little Ironies 1


The Likely Lads, circa 1964

Though it may spoil my reputation as a connoisseur of only the finest entertainment, I do have a soft spot for the BBC’s long-running but not very well regarded comedy drama series New Tricks. For those unfamiliar with the programme, it’s a crime series featuring Amanda Redman as DCI Sandra Pullman, in charge of UCOS (Unsolved Crimes and Open Cases Squad). The unit is staffed by three retired Detectives, each with decades of experience, investigating unsolved cases in which some form of new evidence has come up, combining experience with the new technology now available.

The show is in its tenth series and is in the process of being deserted by 75% of its long-serving cast. James Bolam (Jack Halford) left the programme at the beginning of series 9 and this week saw the final appearance of Alun Armstrong (Brian Lane), with Redman herself due to depart the squad in next week’s episode, thus leaving only Dennis Waterman (Gerry Standing) of the original cast.

With Armstrong goes veteran actress Susan Jameson, who has played throughout the character of Esther Lane, long-suffering wife of Brian. There’s always been something of an irony to Jameson playing Armstrong’s wife, given that she’s the wife of James Bolam.

What’s brought this post on is that I’ve finally got round to watching the Likely Lads DVD boxset, which includes the only surviving episodes of the original B&W mid-Sixties series (8 out of 20), in addition to the complete run of the ground-breaking sequel, Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads? James Bolam first came to prominence in this series, as Terry Collier, alongside his mate, Bob Ferris, played by Rodney Bewes.

The second of these preserved episodes, Double Date, is a funny and clever episode which deals with the lads picking up two attractive, unattached girls in a coffee shop and taking them out for a drink and a chinese. What’s especially clever is that creators and writers Dick Clement and Ian La Fresnais chose to play both sides of the story: the thread keeps flipping backwards and forwards from Terry and Bob, their expectations, anticipations and nervousness, to the two girls, Dierdre and Pat, and what they hope, expect and anticipate.

The two couples save themselves a bit of trouble (and a few comedy cliches) when it turns out they have the same ideas over who they prefer, with Terry copping off with the blonde Dierdre, played by Coral Atkins, and Bob taking up with the dark-haired Pat, even though it’s the fact that Terry knows Pat through her friendship with his sister, Audrey, that gets them the introduction in the first place.

But what amused me into writing this little post, given that she spent all those years in New Tricks playing someone else’s wife, was that Pat was played by Susan Jameson, and she ended up with Rodney Bewes’ character instead of Bolam’s.

Given that Bolam and Jameson also appeared together in the popular Seventies series, When the Boat Comes In, in which they were briefly engaged in the early episodes only for Bolam’s character to get someone else up the spout and have to marry her instead, they seem to have spent their career not getting together on screen!