Watch The Curate, He’s Up To Something!

     The C.S.O. just forwarded me this, which had me in stitches. My favorite bit:

     You’d Rather Go Skydiving Than Take Your Chances at A Village Fete.

     Sure, skydiving has risks, but at least the odds of murder are low. Village fetes, on the other hand, are absolute death traps. Someone will be poisoned, something will explode, and a nosy spinster will crack the case before the police even arrive. From “Agatha Raisin and the Quiche of Death” to Father Brown’s “The Mayor and the Magician” to Midsomer Murders’s “Death’s Shadow”, one thing is certain. Bad things go down at village fetes.

     It’s true! It’s true! A village fete guarantees that there’ll be three or four dead bodies to ponder – one will surely be found face-down in a vat of fermenting wine, or perhaps in a cheese press – and Tom Barnaby or Vera Stanhope will be called in to investigate. Dr. Tony Hill will provide a psychological profile of the villain. There’ll be a host of village biddies toting scones and “digestives” to interview. Quite a few will be “telling porkies.” We’ll have Dr. Nikki Alexander in to do the autopsies, of course, Father Brown will perform the last rites, and Ballykissangel’s Father Peter Clifford will officiate at the funerals.

     After you’ve watched a few “series” of these, you’ll start to wonder how there’s anyone alive at all in the Sceptered Isle. But you’ll still watch, because they’re BLEEP!ing addictive. The settings are mesmerizing. First-rate writing, acting, and characterization abound. There’s a delightful absence of the blood and gore so common to American mysteries and thrillers. And there’s no denying that you’ve been exhibiting a curious new taste for tea…

     Excuse me, Superintendent Wycliffe has just arrived and asked me to “help with his inquiries.” I’ll put the kettle on. No, I wasn’t at the fete; I was at my solicitor’s office in “the City.” And that set has always lacked a chef’s knife. Why do you ask?