Sheep for goalposts! “I really want to know what the hell this adds up to…”
Shetland, season six, episode five
I recently binged the extraordinarily brutal, very funny, totally French and non-vegetarian series ParisPolice 1900 (recommended only for non-knitters; subtitles don’t work with Fair Isle purling). The necessity with Shetland of week-by-week watching makes a creakily crammed plot almost completely incomprehensible. This season is both extraordinarily stretched and full of holes: like the lining of a cow’s stomach, it can be delicious if prepared properly. But in the end, even chopped up and eaten weekly, as Prefect Louis Lepine would say to the butchers of Les Halles, can you do this à la Lyonnaise?
The story so far: Loganberry Cragghopper-Roy didn’t kill the lawyer, but he did accidentally shoot his son with his home-made lead suppositories. But someone else in shetland is making craft bullets. There’s a diver dead. A load of other stuff involving Liberal Democrats. And a non-nun on the run. Here she is. Meanwhile Dunc’n’Donna (there must be a doughnut shop called that somewhere) are playing out their terminal gavotte as convicted killer Killick aims to split up Duncan and Peerie Jimenez’s eternal bromance.
“You never know what’s going to happen, do you?” she grins evilly. Oh, I think we can guess.
The next half hour is full of portents and pregnant pauses and a lot of socially distanced chat. Loganberry’s cowering in his cell and while he won’t be charged, he’s informed that he’s mentally ill, and he could get done for killing his sergeant in Iraq. And so it’s farewell, Stephen McCole, your Scottish BAFTA nomination for actoring awaits.
After last week’s fully-dressed wild swimming, the infamous Jimenez donkey jacket has been dry cleaned, though the buttons seem a bit uneven. I am grateful to Doug Dulmage for pointing out that it is actually Jan Baptiste’s donkey jacket from the Missing. Anything to save money. That may explain the sizing issues evident in this series.
Fiona is the dead lawyer’s shagging secretary and her dodgy consultant doctor husband Darren (or it might be Darryl) has been spying on her phone calls, using an app called Spyright, which I’d bet is actually spelled SpyRite.
“Do you think he’s capable of murder, your nice husband who spies on you?”
“Och no, he’s just a bit controlling. He’s a kind man. He’s a doctor and not in the least bit sinister.” Oh well. That’s all right then. Peerie’s worried though. Darrenyl’s wife could be in danger. Or his life. Or both. Or neither. Some stuff follows about Niven Guthrie, Carrie the Cook, loans being paid off. Mick the dive supervisor, blah. Eve Galbraith offers the shagging secretary her job back, but only if she (Eve) loses the election. This won’t happen. Lib Dems never lose in Shetland. Or Orkney.
Struan (not Niven, not Farquhar, not Tristan) Guthrie knows nothing about anything Niven did, but their company, Shetland Lead Suppositories Ltd, is in deep financial mire and needs that oil rig decommissioning contract. For goodness sake, they can’t live on suppositories alone!
Sandy and Tosh have a heart-to-heart over the leaked photos of Lizzie Kilmuir. It was all because Sandy fancies Kate Kilmuir. “Just let it blow over,” says Sandy
OK then, sighs Tosh. After all, we can’t lose The Only Native Shetlander On The Show. Here’s Donnie, the voice of footballing reason, who thinks Sandy should be grassed up to Peerie J.
“Tosh, you may be a team but he’s clearly not playing for the jersey.” Or gansie, as folk say hereabouts. Sheep for goalposts!
“I really want to know what the hell this adds up to,” says Peerie. Don’t we all?
Then there’s the vanished Mary Anne Ross, who isn’t the non-nun but the non-nun’s Fetlar pal. Tosh and Peerie head to Fetlar through fog and sunshine and Renfrewshire, and find out about that handy plot device “the party at the Lodge”, as used in a previous series ( different island, bigger big hoose) after which Mary Anne vanished. Oh ho! Who was at the party? Duncan? DUNCAN! No, he’s off making hot chocolate at Donna’s behest, laced with fatal dosages of whatever pills she’s taking.
Then in one of the most ridiculous scenes in the history of TV detection, Tosh and Jimenez search a huge Nissen hut crammed full of suspiciously well-preserved stuff - an entire crofthouseful. Totally unrealistic as there’s not a mouse dropping anywhere. Not a single fluttering starling. Not a damp cardboard box. Not a dead seagull, Series One Landrover, Ferguson tractor or rotting sheep’s carcase. In a flash, they find both a microcassette and then a vintage answering machine. Does it still work? Is Kilmacolm more like Lerwick than Lerwick?
Peerie’s dad is causing trouble again but lovely Meg the nurse is available to brandish some sexual chemistry Peeriewards and then look after the old man with cupcakes from a nearby Public Fridge (these are council-owned in Shetland, like the toilets and street corner knitting machines), which she’s presumably paid for. Duncan thinks Peerie is a vindictive prick for trying to get Donna deported.
“You’re a vindictive prick, you know that?” Maybe. But what hearing he has! Everyone in the copshop listens to the amazingly clear microcassette. “Did you hear that wee click? That was being played down the line from another machine.” Stop the non-nun! She knows something. “Set fire to the ferry if you have to!” roars Peerie. Impractical. And a bit unsafe. Also quite difficult.
Good grief, even by Shetland’s super stretchy standards, this episode is about to go twang. We’re on a beach, Minn beach. Donna’s drinking the Hot Chocolate of Duncan’s Deadly Doom (did he make it with hot milk, properly, on the stovetop? Can’t be very hot, she’s drinking it awfully quickly). We’re back on the beach. Donna’s gulping the chalice full of malice. She’s dead. Dunc’s Very Upset. You can tell because Mark Bonnar is acting with just his eyebrows and beard.
Minn beach. The non-nun (Lynne) has received a Bad and Sinister Text Message. Peerie thinks she might be in danger. She is but tells all anyway over a surprisingly clear phone line. Mary Anne’s dead, Lynne the non-nun helped ‘them’ dispose of her body and pretended she was still alive. Who was at the Party At the Lodge? Oh, everyone. The elite of Lerwick - Darren the Dodgy Consultant, Alex Galbraith the Lawyer, Niven Guthrie the LIberal Democrat. Several Shetland ponies and a tame seal. It’s the Papers of Tony Veitch, only with sheep and cetaceans. The non-nun gets hit over the head. Evoking the classic line:
“She’s alive! Whoever did this can’t have got far!” The sound of orcas being jumped echoes in the distance.
But Peerie has to go as Donna’s dead and Dunc’s depressed. There’s an assisted suicide to be covered up. Wash that mug, yamugye. And there's a whole hour of this still to go. Seven days from now. Haud ma donkey jacket!