Mind your language

No, doctor, it’s not as bad as you think. I can keep it under control — my wife has been wonderful, don’t know what I’d do without her — it’s just that, well, sometimes it seems to take over my life. Oh, I have a job that’s quite demanding sometimes, and I manage to put it out of my head for up to 20 minutes, sometimes, but then it’s back. And I can’t stand it! No! I cannot tolerate the way that the makers of period drama constantly include phrases which are not merely anachronistic, but also as ill-timed as a bacon double cheeseburger in a Jacobean tragedy. When are they going to stop and put an end to this throbbing in my head?

Take Marple: Sleeping Murder on ITV this week (Sunday). (For a start, the one-word Marple is silly. She is Miss Marple, or Jane Marple, not Frost! Or Taggart! Or Morse!) Now this was a very superior Sunday night, comfort viewing, curl up with the hot chocolate while the rain whips the window sashes, period mystery. It managed to be elegiac, haunting and hair-pricklingly scary, swerving smoothly between India and a small, introverted, literally incestuous seaside resort in Devon. The dénouement, with all the suspects gathered in a single room, was ridiculous and even dreary, as they usually are, but the first 90 minutes were packed with sparkling detail: the maid, thrilled with having a refrigerator, offering guests ‘sherry — with ice!’ The loving recreation of a truly terrible end-of-the-pier variety troupe, always a favourite setting for seething jealousies and resentment. Altogether this was one or two notches above the usual Agatha Christie adaptation — in every way except for the dialogue.