‘Inside No. 9’ Episode 4: ‘Last Gasp’ review
Sharing something in common with the Joe Hill short story Last Breath, this is arguably the first episode of this series that can be judged on its own merits, on storytelling alone.
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Sharing something in common with the Joe Hill short story Last Breath, this is arguably the first episode of this series that can be judged on its own merits, on storytelling alone.
Don’t know about you, but prison has never looked like a fun, ‘good times and noodle salad’ place to be.
It was hinted at in the first series of Line of Duty what happens to coppers who spend time at Her Majesty’s pleasure and, with Lindsay Denton remanded in custody, we see first-hand. Unsurprisingly, it’s not near as jolly as an episode of Porridge. Unless we missed that episode where Godber ate shit…
So this week, Ian Fleming runs around spending money that isn’t his, sleeping with women he shouldn’t, drinking too much and generally getting whatever he wants. In quieter moments, he sets up a covert ops team, writes up plans for the original CIA, and confuses the Nazi war machine by chucking corpses into the sea with fake ID papers.
Series 3 of Silk hit the ground running tonight. Within five minutes Martha Costello (complete with foxy new bob) lost a case, made a scene and kissed the face off of Clive Reader (Rupert Penry-Jones). Martha’s tendency to let her heart rule her head looks set to feature heavily over the next five episodes.
Leading a bumper month of releases from Big Finish, ‘Dark Eyes 2’ continues the new era of Eighth Doctor adventures.
As we enter the second half of the series, Mr Selfridge embraces tying up loose ends, expanding on existing ones and even opening the doors for new plotlines that will continue throughout the remainder of Series 2.
From the preview clips you’d be forgiven for thinking this is a Porthos-heavy episode, which is a good thing. Porthos is the best one, after all.
We remember a time when Moonraker was on every Christmas. It seemed like there was no other Bond film in existence. It certainly seemed like no other Bond films got shown throughout the year.
A woman buried up to her waist by a cliff-face on a sandy beach. The sand is a mound, spreading like a ginormous skirt, and grains of it trickle threateningly down from the rocks.
A Nottingham nurse becomes an amateur porn star. Hilarity ensues.