Sunday, March 14, 2010

And now, for something a little silly....

As Sherlock passed the sugar bowl to Barnaby he glanced up at Watson hanging on the corner of the mantlepiece by his forearm, elbow almost dislodging a Red Herring meant for one of Dick Francis' racing thrillers but passed up in favour of a corgie gnawing the hind leg off a housemaid.
He sighed.
Writers were such fussy creatures, there really was no pleasing them.
Barnaby's off-sider, Jones, seemed ill at ease, tugging at his collar and tie whilst surreptitiously glancing around the over-crowded room full of characters.
Foyle appeared to be the most relaxed, lounging back in his winged chair near the unlit fire and openly eyeing their host.
Watson may have been the most languid but 3 bottles of scotch on a plate of scones will do that to retired gentlemen although Miss Marple was gently snorting her mirth into her cup of tea at the thought of his head on the morrow.
Poirot was bristling with indignation.
"My dear sirs! You do not understand! I cannot possibly be in this same room with 'er!" he gestured towards Miss Marple with his lavender-gloved hand.
"Oh, really, Hercule, do settle down and let's hear what this is all about," Tom Barnaby interjected, trying his soothing smile that never quite worked on his frustrated wife.
"Perhaps it is the unreasonable number of suspicious deaths under your care that we meet to discuss?" Poirot rejoined through gritted teeth, airing what was often spoken of in fictional characters circles but never acknowledged by authors in writing; that Midsomer was policed by a murderous madman intent on retaining his position on the force and in the weekly tv ratings.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

Genial post and this fill someone in on helped me alot in my college assignement. Say thank you you as your information.

ELIZABETH said...

So we watch almost the same programmes!

I enjoyed your take.

Jayne said...

err, ok, Anonymous, glad to know there's college assignments on my bizarre ideas *snort*.

LOL, Elizabeth, we must do.
And thanks ;)
Margaret Rutherford is busting to get into the next scene...

Brian Hughes said...

Did you know that the reason why Colin Dexter killed off Inspector Morse was because, as he put it, there were more murders per week in Oxford according to his books than there were in the whole of England per year in reality? That's probably why CSI style British crime dramas never really caught on. Having said that, Dixon of Dock Green used to get pretty graphic at times.

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