Channel 4 Description

Channel 4 presents... Alan Bleasdale's five part murder mystery over this and next week, starring Jennifer Ehle, Tim Dutton, Julie Walters, Adrian Dunbar, Diana Weston, Bill Paterson and Michael Angelis. Alan Bleasdale was inspired by Francis Durbridge's original 1960's TV script to create his own version of Melissa in which a war correspondent falls in love with a beautiful but mysterious woman. A gallery of richly drawn characters is played by a distinguished cast led by Jennifer Ehle in the title role, Tim Dutton as the journalist Guy Foster, Julie Walters, Diana Weston, Adrian Dunbar, Bill Paterson, Michael Angelis, and Gary Cady. Bleasdale describes Melissa as "my homage and tribute to one of this country's finest thriller writers. It is a morality tale disguised as a detective story."

Sunday 12 May

2100 Melissa

The first three parts of Melissa comprise Bleasdale's "prequel" to the original Durbridge storyline, which viewers join at the beginning of Episode 4. Returning to England after several years in South Africa, recently widowed Guy Foster meets Melissa, a glamorous publicist who is travelling with a group of exuberant friends on the cruise ship Guy boarded at Cape Town. By the end of the voyage, Guy has fallen in love and Melissa suggests that they marry. "If we're really clever about it Guy, we'll never get to know each other." Stunned but infatuated, Guy agrees.

However, while Guy and Melissa have been celebrating their love and good fortune, others have not fared so well. During the first night of the voyage an elderly widower is "lost" overboard. Back in Cape Town the police discover the bodies of a murdered middle aged couple. Before long death claims another victim, except this time the murder is closer to home. Guy suddenly finds himself caught up in a nightmarish chain of events as Detectives Cameron and Kilshaw are called in to investigate...

Tuesday 13 May

21.00 MELISSA

Continuing Alan Bleasdale's gripping mystery... based on Francis Durbridge's story. Melissa and Guy are now married but he finds himself caught up in a nightmarish chain of events. as the police, in the shape of DCI Cameron and DI Kilshaw begin questioning him, Melissa and their circle of friends about a mysterious death.of one of the group. [Melissa continues tomorrow].

Wednesday 14 May 21.00 MELISSA

Guy quits as a journalist... and starts drinking secretly and heavily. Melissa, meanwhile, is secretly seeing a gynaecologist but, more frighteningly, is beginning to receive anonymous letters about murders she may (or may not) have been involved in. [The two concluding episodes of Melissa will be shown next Monday and Tuesday]

Monday 19 May

21.00 MELISSA A smoking gun... another dead body and a suspect firmly in the frame, without an alibi and with a motive. DCI Cameron and DI Kilshaw feel sure they've cracked the mystery surrounding Melissa , her husband Guy and their circle of friends, including Paula Graeme and Hope. Channel 4 concludes its screening of Alan Bleasdale's five part murder mystery Melissa over two consecutive nights this week.

Tuesday 20 May

21.00 MELISSA Tonight's conclusion... of Alan Bleasdale's adaptation of Francis Durbridge's 1960's TV script brings together the disparate strands that stretch from South Africa to the demi- monde set in London and the denouement is as gripping, unexpected and dramatic as one would expect from the 'collaboration' of one of television's finest dramatists and one of the great originators of mystery tales.

from the Times, 5/12/97

Melissa Channel 4, 9.00pm You could hardly find writers more different than Alan Bleasdale, author of disturbing social dramas such as The Boys From the Blackstuff and GBH, and Francis Durbridge, master of the urbane thriller. But Bleasdale is a Durbridge fan and Melissa is his re-working of Durbridge's 1962 BBC serial. It is more a homage than a pastiche, with the first three episodes (of five) forming a prequel to the original story. Admirers of the Durbridge style may miss the rattling pace, the ingenious twists and the famous cliffhangers. There is not even much suspense, at least in the opening episode which charts the shipboard romance of Jennifer Ehle's mesmerising Melissa and Tim Dutton's gallant war reporter. But there is a murder or three to remind us that this is a thriller and, perhaps, to signal more Durbridge-like things to come.

Alan Bleasdale's latest baby, Melissa, is a homage to thriller writer Francis Durbridge's original 1960s television script, translated to modern times and gussied up with a "prequel". In one of its grand scheduling flourishes, Channel 4 is showing all five parts at 9pm: Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday of this week, with the final two episodes going out next week. So far the star - Jennifer Ehle performs wonders as Melissa; Tim Dutton plays Guy Foster, a newlywidowed war correspondent who falls helplessly in love with Melissa on his return cruise trip to London from his posting in South Africa - sparkle far more than the script.

Four people died, more or less randomly, in last night's curtain-raiser. We weren't given the teeniest hint why, making it much more of a mystery than a thriller so far: we haven't been told enough yet to be sucked to the edge of our seats. For a thriller, Melissa seems strangely slow. Maybe, as with fishing, patience is eventually rewarded.

9.00 Melissa (1/5) Alan Bleasdale's murder mystery about a war correspondent who falls for a mysterious woman. With Jennifer Ehle, Tim Dutton and Adrian Dunbar

9.00 Melissa (2/5) Guy finds himself caught up in a nightmare as the police begin their questioning (T)

9.00 Melissa (3/5) Guy quits as a journalist and starts drinking heavily. Meanwhile, Melissa secretly sees a gynaecologist but more worringly receives threats about her past (T)

9.00 Melissa Alan Bleasdale's adaptation of the Francis Durbridge thriller
MELISSA Channel 4, 9pm With this penultimate instalment we have reached the point where Alan Bleasdale's prequel gives way to the Francis Durbridge original. Or, to be precise, Bleasdale's reworking of it, for Durbridge fans will know by now not to expect a simple update of the old BBC thriller. The good news is that after a long and languid three hours the serial is last getting down to the real business of investigating the murders, boosted at the end of the last episode by the killing of Melissa herself. Which brings us to the bad news, for Melissa, seductively played by Jennifer Ehle, has been by far the show's most charismatic character. But the pace does noticeably quicken and the plot is finally starting to unravel.All the same, Bleasdale's Melissa is still not much like the Durbridge serial that glued we older viewers to our armchairs.

from television review, The Times 5/20/97

Typical. You wait ages for a decent suspect to turn up and then half a dozen arrive at once. As Alan Bleasdale's Melissa (Channel 4) canters into the final stretch, all those cold leads that Detectives Cameron and Kilshaw were struggling to warm up last week have turned red-hot. They warn you against doing this kind of thing when cooking chicken: apparently there is a risk that the rapid temperature change will not kill off all the bugs. Slow, thorough cooking is best. Actually, you could slap the same advice label on this five-part homage to Francis Durbridge. After last Wednesday's episode, which ended with the murder of Jennifer Ehle's Melissa, even the Venus de Milo possessed enough fingers to point at all the credible suspects. Now, at last, our fingers have something to do apart from twitch above the "off" switch.

Maybe it was Melissa's hubby Guy Foster, the former war correspondent, but he has so little free time. When he isn't wrestling with his novel (writing one, not reading one), he seems far too busy kicking in television screens: it's a hobby that doesn't leave him much time for committing murders as well. Of course, we are all presuming that Guy's flamboyant tube-trashing eventually has some relevance to the drama. It is too bizarre a character trait to throw in just for the hell of it. But exactly how will it fit into the plot? It is hard to tell: for now, it just sits distractingly on top of events, like a cheap wig.

Then there is Melissa's psychiatrist chum, who seems to be in her debt and who is also being blackmailed: you can tell he is agitated about something because his eyeballs dart about uncontrollably, as if there were nothing anchoring them into their sockets. Don Page - a past-it racing driver who has always pined for Melissa - is behaving oddly. He tries to kill himself by speeding his red Jag into a wall: the airbag inflates. It is a great commercial for Jaguar, but does a man who picks such a low-risk method of suicide (he is a professional driver, remember) have enough intelligence to commit a tangle of murders?

Paula, we now know, is Melissa's real mother: "I was 15 when I had her," she wails, in one of those scenes where the characters explain the plot. So was it Paula who pulled the trigger on Melissa's nasty foster parents in Cape Town in episode one? Julie Walters plays the part of Paula so fluently, she could easily be faking innocence as well. She keeps wailing "I killed her", which is neither here nor there in a murder mystery. But take it down: it may be used in evidence later.

As for Paula's husband, he is an all-purpose creep, so nobody minds pointing a spare finger at him. The dipso chanteuse? She is mad crazy for Don Page, and his heart has always belonged to Melissa, so maybe she did it to get rid of a rival. And why does Guy's old South Africa buddy, George, keep cropping up?

Still, thank God that Cameron and Kilshaw, played neatly by Bill Paterson and Michael Angelis, seem to be making headway at last. Thank God also that Bleasdale, who is one of our cleverest television scriptwriters, has at least given the two coppers some witty lines - although this only serves to highlight how ho-hum much of the dialogue has been. Apart from Foster's enigmatic ravings when he had writer's block ("I can't turn a train into a plane. I see a train . . . I haven't seen a plane all day"), the phrase that still jags in your brain is Melissa's admonishment to Guy: "Don't even begin to think you have the right to be anything other than the man I love". Explanations on a postcard, please.

If you have stuck with it so far, then presumably you will be tuning in for tonight's final episode. So will those of us who think that even if Melissa is not Bleasdale's best, it has been worth watching. Otherwise it would be like going to watch your team only when it got to the Cup Final.

Not everybody survives very long in a murder mystery, but they mostly survive longer than a mayfly. If you fancy a long life, then my advice is not to get reincarnated as a mayfly.

by Joe Joseph
from The Times, 5/15/97

Just when you were beginning to worry that - for a thriller - there have so far been curiously few cliff-hanging twists in the plot of Melissa (Channel 4), it suddenly dawns on you that when you actually sit down calmly and take a closer look, there doesn't even seem to be a plot there at all.

Hands up who has a clue what might be going on in Alan Bleasdale's lushly filmed but eerily unengaging drama. At the end of last night's episode, the third, Melissa herself cops it. The fifth corpse, I think, but I've lost track - not because I can't count, but because there has been nothing very much to link the murders and too few clues as to who might have dunnit. We need herrings please, Mr Bleasdale, and plenty of red ones, if we're to have any chance of cracking the crimes ahead of your Detectives Cameron and Kilshaw. We won't be upset, or hold it against you, if we're eventually proved wrong: some of Britain's most senior detectives obtain convictions on evidence which, years later, proves to be as solid as yoghurt. No, all we want is to be able to laze on the sofa, piece together some evidence and then point our finger at somebody. Anybody. As it is, we might as well just stick a pin in the cast list.

If Jennifer Ehle's Melissa really is dead with two episodes still to go, we're going to have to get more used to that Guy Foster. Guy has now lost two wives. Careless. He is proving to be a worry in other ways, too. This award-winning war correspondent, who agreed to marry Melissa after knowing her for barely a day, is the deluxe Fleet Street model. He gets morally hot about injustice; he has a vodka problem; he still uses a manual, portable typewriter; he hungers after "truth"; walking past a TV shop while shopping, he catches sight of a war report on the news and dramatically drops his carrier bag full of Fairy Liquid and Weetabix and catches the next plane out of Heathrow. Somehow you get the feeling that it's not because he has suddenly taken against breakfast cereal.

In reality, journalists sit around for much of the day smoking each other's cigarettes and drinking coffee from special vending machines which recreate the authentic flavour of coffee, providing coffee is supposed to taste like it was made from mud, hot water and Tippex correction fluid.

Naturally, we all strive for accuracy. But where absolute truth is impossible to pin down, responsible journalists will always check with at least two reliable colleagues that what we are about to write sounds plausible enough to get past the night lawyer.

Having seen one massacre too many in Bosnia, Foster last night turned his back on journalism. (This was after refusing a job back in London as TV critic because that would be "an insult": ha ha, just Bleasdale's little joke). He then tried to write a novel.

Big mistake. Not for him, maybe. But certainly for us. After several frustrating days of pulling unpromising sheets of A4 out his Olivetti portable (they'll have to replant Norway before he has finished even one chapter), we had to try to decipher what Guy meant when he greeted Melissa - the poor girl had just walked in after a hard day's work - with the words:

"I've spent the last 14 years of my working life attempting to write the truth . . . Avoiding anything that was made up, or mixed up, or coming with spin. Writing fiction is basically all about the art of lying, skilfully . . . It should be easy now. For the very first time since I last wrote fiction I have permission to cheat and to lie. I can't cheat. I can't lie. I can't fly. I can't turn a train into a plane. I see a train. That's all I see. I haven't seen a plane all day." Hello?

What can you say, except that sitting indoors won't help. Get yourself to Gatwick, Guy, and for heaven's sake make it pronto.

In last night's final scene, Melissa's blood-soaked body looked a bit like "Carrie Barbie". This a blood-covered Barbie doll which you you would have had to trek all the way to a San Francisco art gallery to see if Mark Lamarr and his crew from Planet Showbiz (Channel 4) hadn't saved us the effort. "

by Daniela Soave
from Radio Times, 10-16 May 1997

It was while he was in Ireland filming 'Jake's Progress' that Alan Bleasdale's thoughts turned to what to tackle next. Acclaimed for dark voyages into the human psyche, the writer had two ideas: the first, about Alzheimer's disease; the second, a black comedy about a teacher who pens a West End musical.

But he chose neither. By his bed lay a stack of reading that included Dashiell Hammett, Raymond Chandler and, a particular favourite, 'Melissa'. Francis Durbridge's tale of death and destruction had been televised in the sixties and Bleasdale realised that here was a project to sink his teeth into.

"In the fifties when I was a kid, if there was a Francis Durbridge thriller on TV you'd automatically watch it," he recalls. "I've always wanted to write a thriller and as soon as I re-read 'Melissa' I knew what I was going to do next.

"But I didn't realise how nervous I'd be when it came to writing it. I spent January, February and half of March in front of the typewriter becoming more and more demented. It could have been a coincidence, but my beard turned white during the period of writing. I think it was because I was touching someone else's work."

"Eventually I rang up Francis and asked him, as an act of faith, to let me throw his script out of the window. as soon as I did, I felt a great release and I wrote it extraordinarily quickly."

Bleasdale's first three episodes form a "prequel" to the last two episodes, which pick up from the original. Every time he completed one episode he sent it to Durbridge (now 84), who'd tell him, "My dear boy, I'm completely baffled".

As is his want, Bleasdale drew his cast from his unofficial repertory company, including Julie Walters, Michael Angelis and Adrian Dunbar. He wrote the title role for Jennifer Ehle, who appeared in two earlier Bleasdale productions.

"Beautiful as Jennifer is, above all she's an extraordinarily special actress," he says. "She has so many colours: beauty, danger and menace."

The role of Melissa's husband Guy Foster went to Tim Dutton ("a star waiting to happen") while Bill Paterson, another newcomer to the Bleasdale ensemble, plays a detective.

For his cast he has nothing but praise. "In the beginning the word is the most important thing, then the actors make it work. Without actors of that quality I wouldn't have a career."

from the Times, May 18, 1997

At the same time on the other side, you might have had the misfortune to catch Melissa (Monday-Wednesday, C4), which didn't have a tenth of the sexual promise, violence or taut excitement as sitting under an umbrella next to a canal. Lord, where to start with Melissa. It was awful. There probably were worse things on television last week, but I didn't see any, and there certainly wasn't so much money and man-hours spent on producing anything this dire.

Alan Bleasdale, who wrote and produced it, is suffering from the final stages of terminal Potter's Hubris Syndrome. A condition where a writer apparently is so infected with plaudits and praise that he becomes immune to criticism or advice. The main symptom is an ability to waste an almost infinite amount of resources and talent to no purpose whatsoever. Every single thing about Melissa was miserable. The script was like listening to an improvised school play through a cloth ear with a Plasticine hearing aid. Nobody uttered a sentence that didn't have the hollow clack of a typewriter trying too hard echoing behind it. The acting was so wooden, it could have had new age protesters camping in it. The main culprits were Tim Dutton, who did an exhausting imitation of a vacuum cleaner hoovering up every speck and particle of motivation and believable human reaction, and Jennifer Ehle, who permanently had the look of a size 16 who swore blind to the wardrobe mistress that she's a 12. Everything bulged and strained, and her character looked driven solely by oxygen starvation. And then Julie Walters did an amateur pub-night impersonation of Julie Walters.

The story, as far as there was one, was sub-Agatha Christie. A group of friends, one of whom presumably is a murderer, wandered round being horrid to each other. This was a detective potboiler without a detective. The friends were unremittingly ghastly. Bleasdale, with remarkable economy, made not one but two of the women alcoholic, and not one but two of the characters chronic failures. He made all of them utterly unsympathetic. The only scrap of expectation for the audience was the hope that the killer might get them all before the police intervened.

How to explain a piece this monumentally bad, from a writer who can be as good as Bleasdale? I assumed that the soft life of success and the company of Tristrams has coddled his righteous anger and dulled the sense of injustice that drove Boys from the Blackstuff and GBH. I wonder what he would have said if, 10 years ago, Mystic Meg had told him that he would end up writing a four-hour version of Murder She Wrote about PR people, where a bottle of champagne was consumed every three minutes without the slightest irony. He'd probably have got Jimmy Nail to nut her.

If I had to pick the very worst thing about Melissa it would be the laughter. Screen laughter is far more difficult than tears, and Melissa was a template of the worst theatrical guffaws. Miss Ehle, particularly, was in a giggling class of her own. She made a noise like someone slowly dropping bullfrogs into a blender, while simultaneously concocting a face that implied she'd just become aware of an open safety pin down her knickers.

Gissa Clue, Melissa

by Peter Paterson
from the Daily Mail, May 13, 1997
Somehow it seemed really weird that much of the action in last night's opening episode of Alan Bleasdale's latest offering, 'Melissa', was set on a cruise ship, with the passengers dressing for dinner and making idiots of themselves at the fancy-dress party.

This setting made it less like watching a modern thriller than an Agatha Christie or Somerset Maugham revival, except that the dialogue, and the flowing champagne, were straight out of the halcyon days of Mrs. Thatcher.

The lady passengers, particularly, behaved in a fashion which, in the Thirties heyday of ocean travel, would likely have them marooned by the captain at the nearest port, if not publicly flogged on the upper deck.

Yet by the time the cast began sorting themselves out on the liner heading for Cape Town to Casablanca (convienient for dressing up as Humphrey Bogarts and Ingrid Bergmans), we were already hooked by the preliminaries as a child ids by the words 'once upon a time'.

We forgot that ocean cruising in today's world is monopolised by wealthy, mostly American, geriatrics and that the glamour, if not the luxury, of shipboard life belongs to quite another age.

But in Melissa, Bleasdale is paying deliberate homage to the great thriller writer Francis Durbridge.

Durbridge wrote Melissa in the early Sixties, when air travel was already threatening the ocean liner, and appparently arranged that his hero Guy Foster should meet the fascinating, mysterious and quite possibly barking mad Melissa McKensie (Jennifer Ehle) aboard ship.

So homage required a ship, however anachronistic it might look to us, when Bleasedale decided to rework the original 'Melissa'.

Despite this oddity, 'Melissa' has the makings of a superb body-strewn (four murders in the first episode) psychological thriller. The divine Jennifer Ehle, playing Melissa, already has me wondering if she can possibly be the mass murderer all the nudges and winks of the intricate plot so far seem to suggest.

And we haved learned fron deft, almost unnoticeable touches - this is a drama you have to keep your eyes glued to - that Guy Foster (Tim Dutton), to all appearances a handsome, liberal, slightly world-weary foreign correspondant, is not all he should be.

After all, why should such a sophisticated man of the world, who is still mourning a wife killed in a car crash, allow himself, in effect, to be bullied into proposing, on the briefest one-night-stand aquaintance, to Melissa?

There is a telling moment when Guy deliberately steals from someone's coat pocket - is this a one-off or is he a kleptomaniac? He's very quick to violence, too, and at the end of last night's episode an even worst suspicion, that he could also be a killer, hung over him.

'Melissa' has a brilliant supporting cast, with Julie Walters as the heroine's dipsomaniac friend Paula, Adrian Dunbar as Paula's long-suffering husband Graeame and Hugh Quarshie as Guy's undervalued friend George.

Nor is the action confined to the ship board shenanigans. Director Bill Anderson beautifully handled a London literary party in which a fued between a simpering critic and a drunken Booker Prize shortlist author ended in a puch-up deliberately engineered by the bubbly but calculating Melissa.

Channel 4 is taking a risk in running 'Melissa' on three successive nights this week and two the next.

When Durbridge was a top writer for TV, the box was still a novelty and nearly everyone watched everything every night. But as the BBC and Channel 4 found when Dennis Potter's farewell plays, 'Karaoke' and 'Cold Lazarus', were serialised in simular fashion (he, too, was nostalgic for the old days), there is now more choice, with other distractions, and it's a tall order to get the mass audience continuosly watching anything, except the soaps, night after night.

So I urge all those who have video recorders: prepare to use them now.

from the Mirror TV Weekly, 5/10/97

Those in peril on the high seas

When the title is just a woman's Christian's name - Rebecca, Laura, or Susan - you can be sure that the story is a mystery and Melissa (Channel 4) is no exception. In the first episode of the serial, which is the highlight of the channel three nights this week, the suspense is created by sudden murders which flash across the screen, apparently unrelated to the plot - a shooting in South Africa, a drowning at sea and a bludgeoning to death in an orchard. Inevitably, the viewer wonders if Melissa (Jennifer Ehle) is the culprit or if, in some way, she is the spirit of evil who brings death and destruction in her wake.

Melissa is certainly a young lady who knows her mind. Sailing to London in the company of her friends - including Paula, played by the incomparable Julie Waters, who manages to be engaging even when falling down drunk - she meets Guy Foster (Tim Dutton), a foreign correspopndent who is returning home with a broken heart. His grief, caused by the death of his financee in a road accident for which he was responsible, is quickly dispelled by Melissa and they share a cabin on the night they meet. The following morning Melissa proposes in a way which emphasises her status as "mystery woman".

"Marry me," the blushing would-be bride demands. When her prospective husband reminds her that they barely know each other, she replies that novelty is an aspect of the relationship which they must preserve. They will part from time to time and, when they are reunited, their passion will be once more strange and new.

Being a man of moderate intelligence - it is established that he once worked for The Times - Guy is apprehensive about setting off on such a reckless course. But Melissa tells him, "Marry me or you'll never see me again." Perhaps a more astute reporter would have realised that, since they are both at sea on the same boat, her threat would be difficult to carry out. But Guy yields.

The wedding emphasises how little acquainted they are. Guy announces that, apart from his wife, there is no one at the wedding that he knows. However, since another of her friends collapses in an alcoholic stupor, he must have begun to establish a picture of the sort of company she enjoys. He does, however, remain gallant and committed, at least to the end of the first episode. When Melissa is insulted by a critic at a party she has arranged for an author whose publicity she organises, her new husband punches the rotter on the jaw. Melissa smiles enigmatically. During the next four episodes, it is essential that she does something more positive. Melissa had an intriguing start, but it really is about time that the plot started to unfold.

by Keith Ward
from the Manchester Evening News, 5/13/97

People used to watch a Francis Durbridge mystery serial 30 years ago the way they now switch on an Alan Bleasdale. So it looks a good wheeze by Channel 4, with Melissa, to combine the two authors. Then to cash in by showing the episodes on consecutive nights as an audience-builder, three this week, two next. We shall see.

In adapting Durbridge, Bleasdale confesses to have forgotten in his first draft to include a murder. Perhaps he over-compensated. In last night's first episode, the corpse count was already four, and rising.

It started with a car crash in South Africa whereby the hero, an ace journalist called Guy, loses his beautiful young wife and is distraught, but only briefly. On the voyage home he falls for high powered girl-next-cabin Melissa. (The character names are obviously Durbridge vintage).

Melissa is aboard with a group of high-lifers who laugh a lot but, it becomes plain, are enmeshed in their own web of emotional entanglements. Racing driver Don is crazy for Melissa, but is in turn coveted by the gay, Stevie. Melissa's boos, Paula (Julie Walters, making her customary and welcome appearance in a Bleasdale opus) falls down drunk often and is wearily put to bed by husband and showbiz agent Graeme.

There are oddly jarring sequences. Just when we were basking in the fifties era of ocean liners, Guy is off to report the war in Bosnia, and soon we are watching a spat at a publishing party between two precious authors contending the Booker Prize. Guy returns from the horrors of war to new bride Melissa as if he's walking in from making a cuppa in the kitchen. They snog, wetly and noisily, enough to bring complaints from the neighbours, but the bed scenes are too coy and not too convincing.

Jennifer Ehle, in the title role, comes from her huge success as Elizabeth in the BBC's Pride and Prejudice, and as Calypso in Channel 4's The Camomile Lawn. Making Melissa, whom murders seem to follow around, suitably enigmatic, she looks more than ever like Meryl Streep. Tim Dutton as Guy (did he get the nod from Bleasdale because he so resembles Robert Lindsay ? ) starts off innocent but takes suspicious walks in the night.

If you are not exactly hooked, you want to go on watching the bait.

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