Line of Duty | National | TV Review

God give me strength – Ian bloody Buckells after all that…I’m still waiting for the twist at the end.

Line of Duty, the series that kept us sane during the fag end of the lonely Lockdown, ended with, quite frankly, a resounding whimper.

For seven weeks the nation, or at least nearly everyone I know according to my Facebook, has been settled with snacks, on the dot of 9pm willing the credits to roll.

Truth be told, I’ve not had such early night Sunday baths since I was about 8 years old.

And I was even willing to listen to that nauseating narrative at the end of ‘Call the Midwife’ to make sure I didn’t miss one second of each sixty minutes – and that struggle was real believe me.

I also loved the absolute Old Skool vibe of slowly drip feeding us with an exciting episode weekly to avoid the, now standard streaming binge watch blitz.

You know what it’s like, I’m just going to watch one ‘It’s a Sin’ you say convincingly then end up knee deep into the fifth episode bleary-eyed, bewildered, and busting for some shut eye.

So, with the biggest build up since we saw who shot JR back in the day, Sunday night’s scenes revealed the mysterious and malevolent ‘H’ and, after all that, it was the office idiot.

Yeah, yeah, I know it’s supposed to be a clever metaphor for our shameful society where corruption, cronyism, incompetence, and illegality is often a slow burning evil rather than a big bang.

But sweet Mary, Jesus, Joseph, and that wee donkey, this is AC-12. I wanted car chases, bonnet rolls, and a shoot out – not old Curly Top smirking in his cell clutching his prison issue uniform.

Give me Kate Fleming’s cheekbones peering over a firearm over that any day. There’s something about a woman with a gun isn’t there, or is that just me?

Talking of sapphic strains, I’m completely confused by the ‘it’s all getting a bit tense’ Kate and Jo storyline too.

One minute it’s all up close and personal with a Thelma and Louise stylee car chase thrown in. Next minute one of them’s back in the pub calling painkiller addict Arnott ‘mate.’

And the other is living in a 1990’s insurance advert – idyllic cottage, hot love interest, and obligatory dog.

Judging by Jo’s set up witness protection may be the way forward methinks, but please spare me the cheesy docu-drama captions across the screen.

What was all that about?

Almost as baffling as James Nesbitt as Marcus Thurwell who will probably be sweeping up this Award Season as best supporting actor in a British drama…for a photograph – nice work if you can get it.

Seriously though, plotline as flat as a pancake aside, the acting was as always ace, the TEDisms triumphant, and the characters kept us all entertained for seven solid weeks in what has been one of the worst social starts to the year.

I’ll also admit grudgingly, that unmasking the Chief Constable as the fourth man would have been the result the paying public probably predicted – and where’s the fun in that.

I wouldn’t have mind seen crafty Carmichael get her come-uppance though. Sweet Mary, Jesus, Joseph, and the wee donkey, if sparrow fart on a rainy Monday morning was a face she would be it.

Truth be told this was my face the Monday after the night before when my love of Line of Duty almost ended.

My flabber is gasted that after nearly a decade of the small screen and six superb series, I am left feeling flatter then the pathetic pancakes I serve on Shrove Tuesday. Self Care Sunday won’t be the same for a while that’s for sure.

Of course, there’s the usual rumours circulating about that seventh series. Truth be told, I’ve thrown my rattle out the pram at the moment and am petutantly saying I’m never watching again like a spoilt brat that didn’t get their own way – hate it when that happens.

But I’m not going to lie too, the temptation to tune in again will be too much.

So until we meet again.

Carry that Fire

Speak soon.




Sue Vincent-Jones, writing as Mrs SVJ, is a Barry born journalist, editor, and communications specialist. She blogs about Barry – and her life in the wider world, through the eyes of a, quirky and queer, local girl done good.

Gig Girl Reviews is where Sue shows that the world is wider than just our town by writing about the gigs, the films, the theatre, the exhibitions, and all things arty – all through the eyes of a local girl done good.

Mrs SVJ, Barry’s Boldest Blogger, can be contacted here.