Up to this episode the Chelsea Detective had been a well put togethor detective show, not too much backstory detracting from the primary focus of the investigation. Good stories, without really needless redherrings, that kept you interested. Vera in the city, on a bike.
This episode however, and I'm certainly no Poirot, this episode was **painfully** obvious.
Half way through the episode it became so blindingly clear who the guilty party was, in a single scene, in a single line delivered in amateur-dramatic level of acting, that for the rest of the time i was swinging between shaking my fists and shouting at the screen that the detectives were completely ignoring the figurative blinking red neon giant signs pointing to the perpetrator, and debating if I should just switch off now because it was clear this was where it was going.
It was incredibly frustraing. Skip this episode if you want mystery.
This episode however, and I'm certainly no Poirot, this episode was **painfully** obvious.
Half way through the episode it became so blindingly clear who the guilty party was, in a single scene, in a single line delivered in amateur-dramatic level of acting, that for the rest of the time i was swinging between shaking my fists and shouting at the screen that the detectives were completely ignoring the figurative blinking red neon giant signs pointing to the perpetrator, and debating if I should just switch off now because it was clear this was where it was going.
It was incredibly frustraing. Skip this episode if you want mystery.
