Goodnight Mister Tom by Encore Productions 31/05/2017

About three months ago, my grandma sent me a text message (all in capital letters because she is yet to discover that each message doesn’t need to be, which gives the distinct impression that she’s yelling at you) asking me to pop over. Over a cup of tea, she asked me to sort out the invitations to her upcoming eightieth birthday party, which of course I agreed to do. It was at this point that she made it clear she didn’t want any presents: “I’ve already got everything I want and need”. Instead, she asked people to make donations to the National Autistic Society.

Although I heard this – and subsequently created her invitations online – I also knew deep down that I would still buy her tickets to a play. In the last couple of years, my grandma and her partner of twenty-seven years, Frank, have become increasingly difficult to buy for. There’s only so many Christmases and birthdays you can buy an elderly couple bottles of Radox, novelty socks and a bunch of flowers.

It was about eighteen months ago that my mum suggested instead of buying them useless crap that they don’t want or need, we would take them to see a play. Me and my mum go to the theatre as often as we can (I’ve just asked her to work out how many productions we’ve been to in the last twelve months alone and there’s been twenty-one between us), but my grandparents don’t drive which immediately limits the amount of plays or shows they can see. So far, we’ve seen “Paddy” at the Parr Hall, “Foster and Allen” at the Parr Hall, “The Dubliners” at the Parr Hall and “Once a Catholic” at the Brindley in Runcorn.

My grandma is in a wheelchair and as she has COPD, she relies on an oxygen tank to breathe at all times, so we’ve had some tricky experiences in getting her in and out of theatres safely. We actually had quite a bad experience at the Brindley, which slightly dampened our evening watching “Once a Catholic” (although it was still fantastic), where there were no available disabled seats. We had been advised that the venue can only offer eight disabled seats but she would be able to be wheeled in to sit in a normal seat before the wheelchair was taken outside to be left in a corridor.

When we arrived at the Brindley, we were told that this wasn’t true and wheelchairs weren’t allowed inside unless the wheelchair user had a designated disabled seat. This meant my grandmother, who cannot walk unaided, had to be carried to and from her seat, which she found rather upsetting.

Last night, on 31^st May 2017, we went to see “Goodnight Mister Tom” at the Pyramid in Warrington. The performance was from local theatre company, Encore Productions, with chairman, Nick Cupit, overseeing the company and the production directed by Kit Phillips. Tickets cost £12 for adults and £10 for concessions, so for four of us, it cost £44 – not too bad at all, I thought. Doors opened at 7pm and the play started half an hour later. Following our “Once a Catholic” experience, we’d booked the tickets by going into the Pyramid a few months back and explaining that we needed a disabled access seat and three accompanying seats.

The staff at the Pyramid could not be faulted, so once we arrived (and found a disabled parking space immediately adjacent to the venue, which was really handy for wheeling my grandma in and out), we let a member of staff know we’d arrived and she advised us that our seats were on the second row with reserved signs on each seat. It was possibly the smoothest transition we’ve ever had in a venue, as we sat down quite comfortably after buying two programmes (£2 each) and a few raffle tickets, which my grandma went on to win!

It’s worth pointing out here that Goodnight Mister Tom is one of my all-time favourite books. I read it in primary school, then we studied it in Year Seven for an exam and my English teacher was at a loss for what to do with me, as the class were tripping up on some of the local folk’s way of speaking whereas I could quote passages from the book by heart. I like Michelle Magorian’s way of describing everything so vividly. I remember reading an interview with her years ago and she said Goodnight Mister Tom was produced after exploring the colours of the rainbow following a writing class. She wrote one story for each colour and Goodnight Mister Tom was the product of the colour green.

I won’t go into huge amounts of detail about the storyline itself in case anyone reads this who is going to see the production and doesn’t want any spoilers but if you aren’t familiar with it, I’ll just give a quick rundown. The story takes place at the start of the Second World War, when children from inner city areas were evacuated to safer places, such as the countryside. They were taken without parents to live with kind hearted strangers, often for months and even years at a time, despite some children being very young. The Goodnight Mister Tom story centres around one particular evacuee, William Beech, and the elderly man who took him in, Tom Oakley, and the unlikely bond formed between them.

As with any production featuring child actors, there were a number of children alternating the role of each character. Last night was the opening night for this particular performance and the child actors involved were Jack Radcliffe, Finlay Scott, Erin Eaves, Daniel Wilson, Poppy Williams and Callum Eaves.

In all honesty, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Would it be a musical, where the local folk sang about “letting the townies stay” and would William express his frustration with being unable to read and write through contemporary dance? Well, no. It wasn’t a musical, although there were some terrific wartime songs played to fill the silences between scene changes, which my grandparents in particular really enjoyed.

As with any production involving children, I’m always a little dubious in case there are any problems. I’ve just been to see Billy Elliot at the Liverpool Empire and the children in that were phenomenal so the children from Encore Productions had a lot to live up to.

Ironically, there was a scene where the character Zach danced but it was in context and very funny. Finlay Scott, playing Zach, had an insurmountable energy throughout the performance as he played a very upbeat version of Zach, not unlike the version in the film adaptation. He was continually funny and without a doubt the comic relief of the play. (Poor Finlay had to wear a thick woolly jumper throughout the performance and I dread to think how hot he must’ve been under the stage lights but he battled through like a pro.)

Jack Radcliffe played the lost and lonely William and he portrayed an admirable performance. In fact, and I wouldn’t say this if I didn’t mean it, I think he gave the original William, Nick Robinson, from the film a run for his money. Jack was cute in a “I’ve been uprooted from my home and dumped in a place I can’t even pronounce the name of” sort of way but not too cute that the story couldn’t organically progress as the audience fell in love his with innocence and enjoyed watching him make friends for the first time in his life.

The programme was slightly disappointing in the sense that there was no information about the actors themselves – where they’re from, other productions they’ve been in etc – although I suspect that may have been because of safeguarding issues, which is completely understandable, but I would’ve been interested to know how old Jack is. I’d hedge my bets at saying he’s about eight or nine years old. In the car on the way home, all four of us were saying how blown away we were by his ability to learn, remember and deliver all of his lines without faltering once – and I’ve seen many a professional adult actor forget their lines on stage.

Although a non-speaking role, I cannot write a review on last night’s performance without talking about the wonderful Ewan Schooler, who orchestrated the puppet of Sammy the dog. Ewan was in virtually every scene (and the scenes where Sammy wasn’t present, Ewan doubled up as a school child or multi rolled as a civilian) and, similarly to Timone in the stage version of the Lion King, Ewan controlled the puppet whilst being on stage at all times himself. The extraordinary young performer was bent double for ninety percent of the production (I hope his back isn’t too sore today) and after a while, I almost forgot he was there because Sammy was so convincing, life like and endearing.

As we applauded the cast at the end of the performance, Ewan got a particularly loud and enthusiastic cheer – someone even whistled – and it couldn’t have been more well deserved. I said to my mum that it takes a special child to accept a non-speaking role in a production where his friends are all line learning, yet he was pivotal to the play. I don’t think we would’ve loved the growing bond between Tom and William without the faithful Sammy. Also, I’ve just scanned my eyes over the programme again, and I can see that Ewan doesn’t share his role with any other actor. Ewan, if you’re reading this, bravo.

In fact, all the children were experts at delivering lines and moving about on stage. Unlike some performances featuring children, their roles hadn’t been “watered down” so to speak, in order for the roles to be easier to grasp or perform. I can’t begin to imagine how overwhelming it must’ve felt for them to be learning lines, blocking scenes and following direction presumably after school and at weekends, in between revising for their SATs and doing their homework. Kudos to Kit Phillips for his exceptional directional skills. It’s no easy task directing children (and I worked in a children’s theatre company for twelve months, so I know it can be hard) but I was very impressed by how polished the performance was.

Moving on to the adults: Bryan Higgins was Mister Tom. He actually was him. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the late great John Thaw and thought his performance in the film was wonderful but – and this is a bold claim – I thought Bryan may have been better. He was just so likeable and his accent was spot on. He had a nice way with the children and he was funny in parts that I didn’t expect. Again, I won’t spoil the plot, but at the end of the play when there was a particularly happy moment between Tom and William, I had a lump in my throat and my eyes started to burn.

The other adult actors – Dawn Lloyd, Kayleigh Finch, Hayley Northey, Jane Newey, Jimmy Dean, Danni Steel, Rose Higgins and Chele Dean – were all great too but I particularly enjoyed Jane Newey’s performance as local busybody and mother to the five thousand Mrs Fletcher and Dawn Lloyd’s chilling performance of William’s mentally ill mother, Mrs Beech.

As for the production, parts of the storyline were particularly challenging and prior to the show, I was genuinely wondering whether they would skirt over some of the more upsetting scenes. No. I needn’t have worried. Just like Encore didn’t shy away from having a dog as one of the main characters, they didn’t shy away from embracing the difficulties faced during a war. Encore tackled the topics of mental health, abuse and death tactfully and I was very, very impressed.

Any downsides? The only things I can think of are very small but I’m always very honest when reviewing any episode, production or film.

Firstly, the venue itself was uncomfortably warm. I know, I know, how ridiculous of me to moan about the heat in May/June but at times it was stifling. I had an immediate flashback to June last year when a group of us went to see the Comedy Store in the same venue and it was so uncomfortably hot that people actually left halfway through. Once the Pyramid staff opened the doors, a gust of fresh air blew in and it was wonderful but there was obviously an exercise class in the studio opposite and the music and shouting was a little off putting.

Secondly, during a huge scene between William and Mrs Beech, I should have been glued to the actors but I was so distracted by the pitter patter of Mrs Beech’s high heels on the stage floor. If I was to give any advice, it would be for Dawn Lloyd to wear flats for these scenes as if Jack Radcliffe didn’t have a microphone, we may have struggled to hear him – and I was on the second row.

Finally, there were only two toilets in the entire venue which meant that there were long, long queues during the interval and, as with any overused public toilet, they weren’t in the best of condition.

But all in all, I would say these three small points were overshadowed by the success of the play.

To all at Encore Productions – bravo. After the atrocities in Manchester last week, I think we all needed a bit of light entertainment which made us all realise that in times of darkness, pulling together is crucial. I thoroughly enjoyed myself last night, as did everyone else in the audience. Break a leg for your remaining two sell out performances. 

Broadchurch 17/04/2017

I know it’s been an inhuman length of time between the final episode of Broadchurch and this blog entry but I’ve been off work poorly and just haven’t had the energy or time to do it. I’ve been itching to though. I was off work for the Easter bank holiday and, despite having felt ill for days, I toyed with the idea of staying up late to blog but by the time the episode concluded, I was really not feeling well. Since then, I've been unable to look at a screen for longer than five minutes without getting a headache so apologies that a) this entry is disgustingly late and b) it may be badly written as I'm still feeling very sorry for myself.

As we all know, last Monday was the final ever episode of Broadchurch and while I felt strangely nostalgic as the final credits rolled, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed with the overall outcome of the “whodunit” storyline. For anyone who hasn’t caught up with the final episode or anyone intending to knuckle down and watch all three series for the first time, it’s probably wise you don’t read this entry as I don’t want to spoil anything for you.

My last blog entry centred around the penultimate episode of Broadchurch, which drew to a close as we learned some DNA had shown up on the sock found in the grounds of Axehampton. In my blog, I predicted that the DNA would be linked to the notoriously creepy taxi driver, Clive Lucas, and I was absolutely right. I also suspected that Clive’s stepson, Michael Lucas, was somehow involved with the attack and again, I was right. My overall guess was that Arthur Tamworth, the owner of Axehampton, was Trish’s attacker and unfortunately, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

It would seem that Chris Chibnall, the mastermind behind Broadchurch, quite simply had created the character of Arthur and his faithful canine companion in order for the dog to discover a vital piece of evidence. They had no other parts to play in the storyline. I have to say: I was disappointed. Surprised and disappointed. Similarly, with the character of the vicar and the woman from Tinder that Miller met for a date, Arthur’s character appeared surplus to requirements. Mentioned a handful of times. Seen occasionally. Seemingly words on a page which were eventually forgotten about. Lazy writing perhaps?

At times, it felt that Chibnall was too afraid that the audience would struggle to maintain an understanding of the previous series if familiar faces didn’t pop up now and again. This was why we were blessed with the somewhat unnecessary ins and outs of the Latimer family. Having said that, in between the harrowing scenes between Miller and Hardy and the self-confessed attacker (spoiler: it was young heartthrob Leo Humphries), there were some really nice moments between Beth and Mark Latimer.

Ultimately, they were accepting that their marriage had ended and we watched as Mark drove away into the sunset in his plumbing van, leaving us to wonder whether he was still suicidal or whether he was simply thoughtful and reminiscent of the years gone by. Rather like ourselves as the audience as we pondered over the three series.

Because the writer and directors and producers have all confirmed that there will be no further episodes of Broadchurch, it leaves an abundance of unanswered questions. That’s the beauty of a final ever episode. It leaves people asking and wondering about what would happen next. People formulate their own theories and others tend to swallow it whole, as there’s nothing else for them to believe.

As I’ve left it a week before writing about this episode, I’ve had time to sit on my questions before typing them out. I’ve followed the hashtags on Twitter and I’ve read what people have had to say. The majority of people were thoroughly impressed with the episode. I wasn’t. And it takes a lot for me to say that, believe me. I was willing them on as much as the next person. More so, probably. I have a lot of time for original British dramas. But I couldn’t help feeling slightly disappointed with what I felt were some questionable decisions.

So, as it would turn out, sixteen-year-old Michael Lucas was the person who raped Trish Winterman but he was essentially bullied into it by Leo, who appeared to have taken a shine to Michael after he saw his stepdad pushing him around during a football match. Over the coming weeks, Leo got closer to Michael, who appeared to idolise him, and eventually Leo worked out that Michael was a virgin. 

After introducing him to some presumably violent porn, Leo offered up his own girlfriend to Michael in a bid for him to gain some experience. The whole scene was very uncomfortable indeed, as neither party appeared thrilled about the prospect of sleeping with one another, and the very fact that it was Leo himself who had initiated it made everyone feel a bit sick.

After getting drunk at Trish’s party, “swaggery little shit” Leo – who initially had his eye on Cath Atwood – spotted Trish in the garden and hit her over the head with a cricket bat. It’s worth pointing out here that Leo carried around some “essentials”, such as rope and a bat, whenever the mood took him so he was well prepared on the night of the party. Drunk and intimidating, he pressured a frightened and tearful Michael into raping Trish.

This was my first disappointment. Yes, I suspected that Michael was somehow involved (for me, it was the part where Hardy was shouting at him and two of his mates for the distribution of pictures of his daughter. Michael looked down the whole time, like a dog when it’s in trouble) but the circumstances of this particular scene were a little hard to digest. Michael was out of his comfort zone. He was with someone he didn’t really know and someone he didn’t trust. This person had forced him into an uncomfortable situation before and he had just watched this person knock a defenceless woman unconscious. All in all, he was a very frightened teenager. He was also drunk.

Thinking logistically, I don’t believe it was possible for him to gain, let alone sustain, an erection.

Throughout the series, Chibnall made it very clear to us that rape isn’t about sex; it’s about power. As such, if it had been Leo who was drunk and frightened, I could imagine that it would be easy for him to still sustain an erection because the situation itself would be arousing for him. But for a young lad, who has only ever had sex once in very uncomfortable circumstances, who doesn’t find rape appealing – then it wouldn’t be about power, would it? He had nothing to gain from raping Trish, unlike Leo who crowed about his crimes afterwards. Michael did not want to rape her. It was not about power for him.

So for him, it would have had to be about sex. Well, sex and a misguided sense of loyalty perhaps. And that’s what I didn’t buy into. Either Michael Lucas was a despicable human being or he was so blasé about his willy that he didn’t care where he put it. Nope. Uh-huh. No. Don’t buy into it for a second. Or was he so desperate to impress Leo that he would commit the ultimate crime, despite his body not obeying his requests? Nope. Don’t believe it.

Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate what Chibnall was attempting to portray: that Leo was so frightening and so intimidating that Michael felt impelled to do as he asked for fear of repercussion. But again, let’s take it back to very crude basics. If he was that frightened and that intimidated (and that drunk), could he have physically carried out the act? Would his body not have betrayed him? I mean, I can think of situations where men’s bodies have let them down and the circumstances in hand were certainly very enjoyable!

And now, I’m going to tackle something that I think needs addressing and no one so far to my knowledge has addressed it. Michael Lucas was clearly gay. There. I’ve said it. It’s clear that the actor himself is gay. I Googled it to see if he had come out and couldn’t find anything but also saw that he’s only eighteen, so perhaps he hasn’t disclosed it. Perhaps Chibnall didn’t write it intentionally, but it was clear to me that the character was gay too. There was a scene between Michael and Leo, where Michael was just gazing at his idol, so taken with him that his responses remained monosyllabic.

Again, if Michael didn’t attack Trish for the powerful feeling it gave him, then what on earth was it about? If my understanding is correct and that Michael was gay, it wasn’t about sex either. And, again rather crudely, could he have sustained an erection? He was frightened, he was drunk, he was disgusted and he was being coerced into an act with a gender he wasn’t attracted to?

So, if we think about the fact that he gained an erection, sustained it enough to carry out the heinous crime and (presumably) climaxed from it, it’s pretty safe to say that although he was forced into it, he must have had some enjoyment from it, which I can’t and won’t accept.

I understand Michael was lonely and at an impressionable age and Leo had groomed him into behaving uncharacteristically, but I would’ve liked to have been convinced by this instead of having to cram the moments leading up to the attack into a fifteen-minute segment. With hindsight, it would have been better for the attacker to have been revealed at the end of the penultimate episode and for the whole of the final episode to have been dedicated to the reveal. Dare I say, it felt a little rushed.

All in all, it was a little hard to swallow.

It actually reminded me of a play I wrote a few years back. The story centred around a group of teenage girls, one of whom is constantly belittled by the leader of the pack, to the point where when she’s pushed and pushed and pushed, she snaps and eventually, under immense pressure to do so, she sets fire to another student. I entered the play for an award when I was twenty-two and it came third, which sounds terrific but there were only four plays to choose from, although it had been shortlisted to get to that stage, so it didn’t do too badly I suppose.

Because I was a finalist, I was given very specific feedback on the play and, like with any feedback I got back then, I digested it and took it to heart. This is something I have been working on ever since. About three years later, I had someone say to my face in the bar after my play had been performed that I was disgusting and talentless and I laughed and carried on drinking my wine. I’ve learned to love criticism but I really struggled with it at first.

Anyway, the point I’m making is that the feedback I got was that the story wasn’t “entirely believable” as “no one would go to those lengths to impress a friend”. I was bitter about it for weeks, months even, as I huffed and puffed about what to do. Eventually, about three months later, I saw the person who gave the feedback in the bar after a play (I’m sensing a pattern here) and over a glass of wine, we talked about my play and what he thought had gone wrong.

I explained that the fire wasn’t because one character was attempting to impress another and that it was more about a power struggle incorporated with that feeling when you see someone do something awful to another person in a public place but you’re too scared to say anything for fear they’ll turn on you. Combining that with the crippling teenage anxiety of being friendless, I believed the character was genuinely capable of her crime.

By the end of the conversation, he understood the reasoning behind the play a lot more and was genuinely intrigued by how it came about. A few months later, there was a story in the papers about two teenage schoolgirls who’d killed their teacher and I sent him the article in a Facebook message, where each girl blamed the other for bullying. In a weird way, it was relieving to know that this type of thing actually happened but I’ve never forgotten that feedback and now if I’m watching something that I can’t buy into, I think about what they could have done to have strengthened it a bit more.

In terms of Broadchurch, perhaps we could’ve seen more of Leo and Michael’s friendship or maybe it could’ve ended with Michael saying he couldn’t rape Trish, so Leo pushed him out of the way and did it himself? Regardless, I’m not entirely convinced about the reveal of the true attacker and I felt more could have been done. An unpopular opinion, I know, but that’s just how I feel.

While I’m on the topic of unpopular opinions, I actually voiced what I’m about to say on Twitter and received public scrutiny in abundance, so here goes: I felt that Chibnall implied that porn was bad. Let’s be honest. We’re all grown ups here. Who hasn’t watched porn? Despite what you might say to your friends or to a prospective partner perhaps, we all watch it or have done at some point in our lives. It’s perfectly legal, assuming that the pornography you view is of consenting adults, and perfectly normal, given the fact that we currently live in a society where almost all of us possess a smart phone – and if you don’t, you’re considered to be the weird one.

I am twenty-seven years old. My teenage years took place in the early noughties. I am part of the internet generation. There is nothing that we don’t know about the internet. Last week, someone I used to work with uploaded a photo of a pair of tanned, slim legs propped up by a stunning turquoise pool with the caption “No Monday blues for me”. Picturesque, some might say. I, however, instantly recognised the photo as one shared by a very successful travel blogger not two days earlier. I screenshotted it and sent it over to my mate instantly on What’s App and we both had a giggle. She reverse Google image searched it and found a handful of other websites, mostly swimwear and travel sites, who had already stolen the image.

That’s the world we currently live in. Fast paced and dependent on technology. We’ve gone from chatting over MSN Messenger after school to dramatically rearranging our MySpace top eight to using a telephone to take a photo, using software to edit it and posting it somewhere with a variety of hashtags to gain an income. We are the internet generation. And this is just the tip of the iceberg. 

So, when Ellie Miller discovered her sixteen-year-old son was watching porn on his mobile phone and, horrified, she subsequently banned him from using it, then smashed it to smithereens when he continued, you’ll forgive me when I say I burst out laughing. Come on, Chibnall, you find me any sixteen-year-old lad who isn’t watching porn whenever he’s alone. In fact, you find me any sixteen-year-old lad who isn’t having sex whenever the opportunity arises. It’s a fact of life. People watch porn. It’s normal. I’m tempted to break the taboo here and say: it’s healthy. Again, I will reiterate here that I am talking about ordinary porn featuring consenting adults.

Before anyone starts preaching at me, I’ll say here and now that I understand the difference between ordinary porn and the type of porn that Leo Humphries was watching and distributing. Of course, the footage that he had captured of his own attacks was outrageous, illegal and disturbing. But I think Chibnall had a responsibility to his audience in demonstrating that not all pornography is outrageous and disturbing. He had a duty to highlight that not everyone who watches porn is watching violent, extreme porn and that watching porn doesn’t have to be a solo activity: it is a totally normal part of some couples’ relationships.

Miller was understandably upset when she discovered the porn on her son’s phone, particularly as the school had been so blasé about why they thought he was interested in it, but as far as we knew, the footage she stumbled across on this phone was ordinary porn. Not illegal. He was sixteen for crying out loud. Legally old enough to get married and have a family of his own.

I was expecting a scene between Miller and her son where she sat down and spoke to him about the different types of porn. We almost had this scene, where Miller, her son and her father were eating dinner and Ellie shut her father down when he spouted some misogynistic crap. That’s what I adored about her. She was a magnificent ambassador for saying what was needed when other people would be more concerned about remaining PC. I was a little disappointed that she was so closed minded about her son watching porn. What would she have done if she’d found a box of condoms in his room or, God forbid, walked in and found him kissing a girl?

What I will say is bravo to the cast and crew of Broadchurch for portraying a true depiction of rape. When I heard that the third series was focusing on a rape storyline, I thought it would be a young girl walking home from a night out where she takes a shortcut through a field and is raped and murdered. For the victim to still be very much alive and able to reveal her attacker at any time was a brave move, particularly for a drama series which has centred around a whodunit murder mystery for the past four years.

I thought it was impressive that the drama tackled any preconception about rape victims and rapists. Leo Humphries was a good-looking lad, in good shape and reasonably well spoken. He was popular, seemingly well liked and well educated. He was an excellent football player and a familiar face in the local community. The bottom line is: he was totally normal and, more importantly, he was cool.

Of course, we know that sex offenders come in all shapes and sizes, all ages and creeds, but again, I thought it was brave and impressive that Chibnall chose the best-looking bloke to be the monster. Leo didn’t fit with society’s views of a rapist. Society would typically depict Aaron Mayford to be the monster or any nearby bloke in a dirty raincoat.

Interestingly, Leo wasn’t the least bit remorseful for his crimes. He was smug, as he bragged to Miller and Hardy about his past crimes and smirked, chillingly, as he said “it was just sex”. But that was just it – it wasn’t sex. Not even remotely. But it was frightening how much he genuinely believed he had just had sex with these women; an alarming paradox to Brock Turner’s defence and attitude towards women.

As for the character of Trish, she was the same as you or I: a normal woman, who enjoyed a drink and a cigarette. She was no angel, having slept with her best mate’s husband. She was middle aged, normal looking, average build and leading a totally ordinary life. And that’s what was so important for the storyline. Horrifying though it is to face, anyone can be raped: whether they’re tall, small, fat, thin, stunning, normal, have a fabulous job, are on the dole, are blind drunk, are teetotal or are just walking in the garden at their best friend’s birthday party.

When the truth of the attack had been revealed to Trish, there was a moment which really stuck with me. Upon learning that she didn’t know the person who had raped her and that he didn’t know her, Trish said, “So, I was just unlucky?” It absolutely killed me. That was the bottom line. She really had been unlucky, as ridiculous as it sounds to liken being raped to losing your car keys. And that was what I loved the most about the entire series: it was a horrible and uncomfortable situation, but it could happen to anyone and according to the Rape Crisis UK website, eleven adults are raped in the UK every hour.

Now I understand why it was so important that a TV programme such as Broadchurch, which pulled in 8.7 million viewers on its final episode, portrayed a terrifyingly accurate portrayal of a rape. While the final episode may not have tickled my fancy a hundred percent, I have to admit that it satisfied our curiosities and it concluded in a way that didn’t make me want to rip my own hair out. It was oddly beautiful, just in a different way than I’d imagined.

So, what happens next?

Well, I’ve been hooked on Line of Duty and I’ve just started watching a brand new drama series, “Born to Kill” which started last week on Channel 4. I have a feeling I may blog about that one. If you see anything else you think I may like, let me know 😊 Thanks for reading! x

Broadchurch 10/04/2017

I literally haven’t blogged in four months and I wasn’t planning to anytime soon until someone sought me out on Twitter to ask my theory on the third series of Broadchurch. Interestingly, I’d toyed with the idea of blogging about this series but got tied up with a combination of work, relationships and general laziness so it didn’t happen.

However, next week is the final episode of Broadchurch and I remember writing about the final episode of the first series in a blog about something totally unrelated, so I thought it would be a nice way to tie up the final episode of the final series. Plus I finally treated myself to a new computer – hurrah! – so I don’t have to sit in bed with my dodgy laptop burning into my thigh as I type. I am sat in what I like to call my little office, which actually comprises of the second and slightly smaller living room in my mum’s house where I sit when I work from home.

But it’s an actual proper desktop computer which I have really grown to love. Accessing Facebook from an actual computer for the first time in about four years was a bit of a trip down memory lane but having a proper sit down computer has prompted me to write so much. Also, yesterday was my 27^th birthday (ugh) and my new age resolution is to keep writing.

So – no time like the present.

It’s quite sad really that we won’t see any more of Broadchurch. Having been an avid viewer since the first episode, I’ve grown to love the softly spoken broad accents of the local folk and I’m particularly besotted with the relationship between detectives Ellie Miller and Alec Hardy, played by Olivia Colman and David Tenant respectively.

For anyone who hasn’t watched the previous few episodes or even the previous series, this blog probably won’t a) make any sense to you and b) may ruin it for you, as you really should find the time to sit down and watch all three series.

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: I only have time for British TV dramas. Honestly, I’ve tried to sit and watch American serial dramas or thrillers but I can’t ever get to grips with the plots, which normally feel very far-fetched and sometimes difficult to comprehend with their love of Americanising everything. Even the characters are difficult to warm to.

I say all of this and for anyone reading this who actually knows me well, they’ll be sat there thinking hang on a minute, aren’t you the girl who can quote her way through the entire ten series of Friends? Well, yes, you’d be right. I am that girl. But that is literally the only American series I can stomach and part of me suspects it’s become more of a comfort blanket than anything else. Falling asleep? Stick Friends on. Hungover? Stick Friends on? Full of a cold? Boyfriend’s dumped you? Nothing else on TV? You know what to do.

So, I have a lot of time for Broadchurch but that doesn’t mean I worship at the writer’s feet. I was enormously appreciative of the first series; however, I guessed who the murderer of little Danny Latimer was halfway through the series. I won’t put it down to lazy writing. I like to put it down to me putting my detective hat on. It was a comment made between Detective Miller and the rather shifty local oddball, Susan Wright, portrayed by Pauline Quirk. Having discovered that Susan’s husband had been abusing her daughter, Miller dismissed Susan’s innocence by saying “it was going on in your house and you really didn’t know?”

Immediately, I turned to my mum and said “It was Miller’s husband”. “No, Emily,” she scoffed. “He isn’t one of the suspects. We’ve barely seen anything of him.” “Exactly,” I insisted. “It was him.”

And I was confident of it. So confident in fact that I placed a bet on it – and I won £24. Last of the big spenders.

From a writer’s perspective, it’s tiny little details like that which are placed in on purpose. Like tiny little seeds being planted, so that when the big finale is upon us and the culprit is revealed, we all sit there and go “Oh yes, it makes perfect sense”.

With that in mind, I’ll turn to series three. (You’ll notice here that I missed out series two. I’ll be honest: it disappointed me. I felt the storyline surrounding Hardy and the child murder case was interesting and the series overall was great, but not truly as captivating as its predecessor. And don’t get me started on Joe Miller’s not guilty plea. This made me roll my eyes for weeks. Months even. As lazy as writing can possibly be.)

Okay, time for a quick summary. Trish Winterman, a local woman, who has recently separated from her husband who she has one teenage daughter with, was raped in the grounds of a large manor house called Axehampton. This was during Cath’s (Trish’s best mate) 50^th birthday party. The rapist had used a condom so there were no traces of his DNA and he had gagged Trish and knocked her unconscious for the majority of the attack. Trish had no knowledge of her attacker and the rest of the party goers were seemingly unaware of any attack.

Trish didn’t report the attack for three days. I’ve read a few theories on this, mostly on Twitter, with some really sickening depraved views. Before we really knuckle down to it, I’ll just point out that the purpose of this blog is just to discuss my views and my theories on Broadchurch – not to discuss the ins and outs of real life rape cases. So, while I can appreciate some viewers have formulated their own theories as to why it took Trish three days to report the attack, I’m satisfied that the delay was simply down to a mixture of nerves, physical and mental instability and a whole host of other emotions that, thankfully, I cannot relate to.

Following the attack on Trish, we discover that two other women are victims of very similar sexual assaults. Neither woman reported the incidents to the police.

So far there appears to be a handful of “suspects”. I say this with air quotations as I don’t feel we can really call them that. Some of them are just men who happen to be in the right place at the wrong time. Some of them, however, are undeniably dodgy.

We have:

Ed Burnett – the local shop owner and Trish’s boss. Seemingly harmless initially, Ed appeared to be a gentle giant who genuinely cared for Trish’s wellbeing. This was quashed when we discovered that Ed has been stalking Trish for years, taking photographs of her without her knowledge or consent, and even sent her flowers the day after the news of Trish’s attack became known. He sent the flowers anonymously with a bit of a vague (yet creepy) message.

Ed was arrested later in the series for beating up Cath’s husband, Jim Atwood, when it became apparent that on the morning of Trish’s attack, she had slept with Jim. Ed’s house was searched by the police, who discovered the same type of blue rope in his coat pocket as the rope used to bind Trish’s hands together. There was also mud all over the outfit he wore to the party. There’s never been any solid evidence to confirm this but from a viewer’s point of view, I’d say Ed Burnett has learning difficulties or is perhaps on the autism spectrum.  Ed is also the father of Katie, one of the police officers on the case, who was later suspended from work due to not reporting this to her superiors. Katie told Hardy and Miller that her father was once violent towards her late mother. 

Ian Winterman – Trish’s ex-husband. Ian is now in a relationship with Sarah, who we learn has sent anonymous text messages through a website to Trish telling her to “shut up”. Sarah claims to have sent this prior to finding out about the attack, so if this is the case, what was she telling her to shut up about? We know Ian and Sarah argued at Cath’s birthday party. Ian said this was because Sarah doesn’t feel welcome around any of Trish’s friends.

We later learn that Ian has paid local youth, Leo Humphries, to install spyware on Trish’s laptop so he can view her without her knowledge through the webcam. Ian claims to have been so drunk that he can’t recall his whereabouts during the time of the attack.  

Jim Atwood – a mechanic. The husband of Cath Atwood and an unlikely middle aged lothario. Jim went missing around the time of the attack and told the police he was having sex with a waitress from his wife’s birthday party in the nearby woods. The waitress accepts that this happened but he didn’t climax because she thought he was getting too rough and she asked him to stop. We know Jim possesses the same brand of condoms that was used in the attack and that more than one of them was used. A receipt proves he bought them after sleeping with Trish on the morning of the party.

After some digging, Cath admits she was away on the nights that the other two rapes were carried out. Interestingly, Jim did some repair work on the car of one of the victims, who had only walked through a field (where she was subsequently attacked) because her car had broken down.

Clive Lucas – local taxi driver who has previously been accused of harassment by a female customer. Clive was hanging around Axehampton all night but did confess to transporting an unknown male from the party. He didn’t put this through his records officially and claimed not to recognise him or remember the area in which he dropped him off. 

Clive’s wife, a seemingly slow woman, has a child from a previous relationship: a teenage boy named Michael. She touched upon the child’s biological father briefly when being questioned by Miller and Hardy and implied she was young when she found out she was pregnant with him and Clive saved the day by marrying her and making an honest woman out of her. Forever indebted to Clive, his wife turns a blind eye to some of his crude and inexplicable behaviour, such as keeping graphic magazines in the house and even a drawer full of memorabilia – including Trish’s keys. Clive saw Jim Atwood having an “intense conversation” with Trish on the night of her attack.

Leo Humphries – a lad in his early 20s and a keen member of the local football team. He is apparently a technological guru who applied the spyware to Trish’s laptop for Ian. He claimed to have been with his girlfriend all night during the time of the attack, but his girlfriend was openly lying for him. We later discover that he dropped his girlfriend off at the party and picked her up but he claims he didn’t stay. A sock was found in the grounds of Axehampton which matches the same socks worn by all the football team. This sock was used to gag Trish but we don’t know who it belongs to.

Aaron Mayford – recently released from prison after serving a sentence for rape. Aaron has maintained his innocence and has been questioned on a whim because of the nature of the crime committed. Having behaved rather intimidatingly towards Katie when she was carrying out surveillance checks on him, we can ascertain that he’s a dodgy character but the series hasn’t focused too much on him. In fact, he hasn’t been in the last two episodes.

With all of this going on, it’s difficult to remember that the foundation of the Broadchurch series is the murder of Danny Latimer. His father, Mark, is not handling his grief well and attempted suicide – although was saved by a passer-by pulling him out of the water. I think it’s fair to assume that the “passer-by” was actually Joe Miller, the person who killed Danny, who Mark had travelled to Liverpool to confront. Perhaps in a way Joe felt by saving Mark, he was preventing further grief for the family. I don’t actually know whether it was Joe or not but I’ll say my writer’s instincts (and detective hat) tell me it was him.

On this topic, I'll point out that there have been rumours on Twitter that Joe Miller is innocent and covering for his son, Tom, who was the real murderer of Danny. I can see why people may think this - I for one didn't buy into the "he used to come round for hugs" story - but from a writer's perspective, I'd be really surprised if it turns out the whole of the first two series were based on bullshit. Possible though, of course. And as we've had confirmation that this is the final series of Broadchurch, it goes without saying that it'll go out with a bang.

Back to Trish: we have no real indication as to who the attacker was. Trish can barely recall what happened on the night in question but she does remember a light in the background. My gut instinct is this light was a flash from someone’s mobile phone, most likely filming the attack. I have a feeling the attack is being circulated around the younger generation – particularly Ellie’s son, Tom Miller, and Clive Lucas’s stepson, Michael, who have both been gawping at their phone screens and both been caught with porn.

Ellie was called into school to discuss the incident and she quickly jumped to Tom’s defence, assuming that the school believed Tom was headed the same way as his father. I’m hoping that her dismissiveness of the headteacher’s concerns doesn’t have a similar conclusion to her dismissiveness with Susan Wright in series one. If it turns out it was Tom Miller, I will not be a happy bunny. Equally, if it turns out to be Joe Miller – unknowingly back in the coastal town and preying on further vulnerable people – I will be unimpressed. Surely Chris Chibnall (the writer) wouldn’t be so lazy?

My instincts tell me the perpetrator is likely to be a candidate we’ve yet to consider. It would be a bold and possibly even stupid move for the attacker to be someone we haven’t met or heard of. In fact, it would be downright ridiculous and we wouldn’t be able to buy into it. But it could easily be someone we don’t suspect. In fact, I’m tempted to say it is someone we don’t suspect.

Right now, I’ll take a shot in the dark and say it could well be Arthur Tamworth, the owner of Axehampton. We’ve had very little contact with him, except for him to moan that the whole incident had forced him to close the manor for events due to bad publicity, and of course, for him to hand over the sock. You may wonder why the rapist would hand over an item used in the attack. Perhaps as a rouse to deter the police from himself? To steer them in the direction of the football team? There's something slightly suspect about Arthur's dog being the one to discover the sock. As a dog, he's unable to be questioned. Does this mean it was planted there by Arthur, attempting to frame someone?

I could be well and truly barking (ha) up the wrong tree here, but my instincts tell me we haven’t seen the last of Arthur and old Fido.

I’ve also heard some theories that the attacker was perhaps a female, who used an item which she covered with a condom. Entirely possible, I agree, but it would be very brave of ITV to portray this and I can’t honestly say I see it happening. Perhaps it's not completely crazy for a woman to be involved.

Was there more to Cath's apology? She asked Trish to forgive her. Does she know more than she's letting on? And is she trying to stitch up her husband by questioning the brand of condoms, looking through the calendars etc? It seems suspiciously convenient that she was away on both nights that the first two rapes occurred. The only "evidence" of her being away is something scribbled on old calendars. Who keeps old calendars knocking around for years? It's a little too convenient for me.

On a different note, the biological father of Michael Lucas – I think there’s more to this as well. Remember what I said earlier about the writers planting seeds? I think his conception was a seed being planted (no pun intended). I got the impression Clive’s wife had been raped and that Michael was a product of this rape. He appears to be mixed race. Could Ed Burnett possibly be involved at all? 

Or maybe Clive is the biological father of Michael - and Clive's wife, a simple person, has never reported the rape which led to her conceiving her child? Is it possible that Clive raped his wife, in a similar manner to which the other three rapes were carried out? Then married her in a heroic bid to save the day? We saw a locket in the drawer of creepy memorabilia. Was this Clive's wife locket that she was wearing the day she was raped? 

And let’s say that Michael Lucas was the product of rape: is he following in his father’s footsteps? Is he responsible for the attack? Or did he film it? We know he was somewhat involved in the distribution of naked pictures of Miller’s daughter. I’m not necessarily suggesting there’s anything untoward in his DNA, but it would go back to the seed planting between Ellie Miller and the headteacher when she rushed to defend her son who she insists isn’t a carbon copy of his father, a murderer. 

The penultimate episode of Broadchurch concluded with Hardy and Miller receiving the news that one of the men's DNA was found on the sock. In true "whodunit" style, I think there will be some confusion regarding the DNA. Let's not forget that Ian refused to give a DNA sample. Unless he backed down without our knowledge, it can't be him. Will it show traces of Clive Lucas's DNA, when in actual fact it's his stepson/potential biological son? Or has it quite literally been planted there by Arthur and his trusty canine companion?

Or, again, am I barking (terrible, I'm sorry) up the wrong tree?

Is it the same attacker who has raped all three women or is this the work of two or more men? It would be very lazy writing indeed for the attacker to be Aaron Mayford. Almost like a “once in prison, always in prison” kind of theory. Plus, let’s not forget he was in prison during the first two attacks.

There's always the possibility of the vicar. He's been in all three series, never really doing anything, not saying much. In fact, during tonight's episode, I turned to my murder mystery partner (mummy Chriscoli) and said "Isn't it lazy how they've had the vicar in this series? He's done nothing", as I thought he was being used purely as a link between the three series. Is it possible that the seemingly innocent vicar, privy to personal information most people aren't and a recovering alcoholic, is more involved than we might think?

I’d be really interested to know your theories or suspicions so please let me know. Additionally, if I’ve missed out any key pieces of information, get in touch so I can put it right.

As always, this blog was written purely for fun. I don’t work for ITV so the views are entirely my own so no negativity please. If anyone knows of anywhere I can place a bet on the ending of Broadchurch, please let me know. I've tweeted Skybet and was told that this year they aren't supporting this particular bet. 

The Missing 30/11/2016

“Absence diminishes little passions and increases great ones, as wind extinguishes candles and fans a fire”.

You all know how much I love a Julien Baptiste quote and this one was no different. Oddly enough, it sums up how I’m feeling right now – and most likely you, too, as you’re reading this. After eight magical weeks, what on earth are we going to do with our Wednesday evenings without The Missing? It quite literally feels like a piece of us will be missing (yes, I cringed writing that). As though something isn’t quite right. 

But we’ll pick ourselves up and we’ll carry on and we’ll watch other original British drama series and we’ll think yes, okay, we’ve moved on from The Missing and we’ve stopped speaking about it now. Before we know it, in the most sneaky way possible, we’ll hear a whisper of a third series. And we’ll be right back to where we are now, obsessively clicking on the hash tag for The Missing on Twitter and calculating the likelihood of different theories.

As always, for anyone who hasn’t caught up on tonight’s episode, please don’t read any further than this. I don’t want to be the one to spoil the fun for you. But go and watch it, enjoy, then come back and read this afterwards.

Tonight’s episode was the final in the second series and it tied up the majority of the loose ends we had. It answered the majority of our questions. But not quite all of them. 

In tonight’s episode, we saw Alice and Sophie in their basement prison in a flashback to 2014. Sophie was close to death, as she lay on a filthy makeshift bed on the floor, clutching her abdomen in pain. She had appendicitis and without medical intervention, it was inevitable that she would die. Bearing this in mind, creepy psycho crazy Adam came up with the ludicrous plan which would have Sophie be discovered, pretend to be Alice, get better and then return to Adam and Lucy (and poor Alice). 

Before shooing her into the wild, Adam flashed her one tiny photo of Christian Hertz, the butcher who went on to be arrested for a crime he didn’t commit. 

This is where my first question arose. For those of you who are regular readers of my blog, you’ll know that I questioned this last week: is it really plausible that someone would hold such a grudge against a person for twenty three years because they hadn’t organised a search party when they went missing during the war? I just couldn’t buy into it. 

Last week, I hoped more would materialise and perhaps explain why Adam decided to pin the entire debacle on a person he barely knew anything about. Sadly, we didn’t get that answer. It turns out that Adam was so bitter about Nadia Hertz’s lack of response when he went missing in Iraq in 1991 that he decided to frame her husband for a despicable crime. Out of everything that unfolded throughout the series, I think that was one of the aspects I was the most apprehensive about believing. 

Don’t get me wrong, I understand that Adam Gettrick was a mentally unstable man with psychotic tendencies and inexplicably unbalanced behaviour where anything was possible but it just seemed so extreme.

Then I think about Adam’s house on the military base in Germany. Now, for those of you who’ve never had anything to do with military accommodation before, let me explain. Housing is provided for British soldiers and their families, wherever they may be based. The houses are relatively small and plain but they do the job. There are multiple inspections during a family’s time staying in military accommodation and if the army aren’t happy about something, it has to be changed. I know this from experience. 

So, let’s consider the thirteen years Adam was keeping the girls hostage (we don’t know the length of time Sophie or Lena were held hostage but Alice was definitely gone from 2003 when she was abducted to present day when she was rescued). Adam had a two bedroom house. Why? He didn’t have any children as far as the army were concerned. These houses are like gold dust. Perhaps he got lucky. I’ll buy into that. 

But the two windows at the front of the house being boarded up for years on end? I would bet my life that within a week of boarding up your windows in a military house, you’d have the officials knocking on the door demanding to know why. Perhaps Adam was so secure in his job with the information he had on people like Adrian Stone that he thought he was invincible. I struggled to buy into this as well. 

(Without going into too much detail about what I didn’t like – because these are literally teeny tiny points that are enormously overshadowed by everything that I loved – I also didn’t like the Swiss waiter storyline tonight. It felt a little too similar to what I like to call a Harry Potter get out clause. 

You know how in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part One film when Hermione and Harry are looking for Harry’s parents’ grave? In a graveyard with hundreds of tombstones, Hermione bends and wipes the snow off one random grave and goes oh, look, it’s your parents’ grave, Harry! I cannot abide laziness like that. It felt a little similar tonight with the Swiss waiter. He looked down, saw the photo and didn’t say anything but his face gave the game away. I wasn’t massively keen on this but I’ll let it go. Stranger things have happened.)

Speaking of Adrian Stone, cast your minds back to my very first blog weeks ago. I said from the word go that I didn’t buy his dementia sob story. I smelt a rat from the moment he switched conversation at a very convenient moment. Tonight, it wasn’t necessarily confirmed but it was certainly suggested that Adrian Stone is a little Billy Bullshitter. 

The moment he suspected he was going to be rumbled for his involvement with Sophie’s abduction, he planted the seed of doubt in Eve’s mind that his memory wasn’t what it used to be. A little too convenient if you ask me. Perfect timing. 

Then let’s just take a second to think about what Adam said to Adrian Stone about their similar sexual preferences. Adrian Stone was a bad, bad man. I began to wonder whether that was why he was so insistent on going to search for Adam in Iraq when he’d heard that Adam had slept with a thirteen year old girl. Appalling behaviour and I had him sussed from day one. Just call me Baptiste.

Anyway, while I let my increasingly large head deflate, I will say how Sam Webster’s death took me by surprise. I really didn’t expect it and was sad for him, as a father, that he hadn’t got chance to bond with his daughter following her rescue. But in a weird way, perhaps he felt so at peace with finally fitting the missing piece of the puzzle together that he simply let go. 

Speaking of which, we saw Julien about to undergo what appeared to be a very intense operation. Presumably, this was the operation that was needed to keep him alive (fingers crossed) but what if it wasn’t? The last we saw of Baptiste was in Switzerland, a country where euthanasia is legal in certain medical centres. Perhaps, in a similar way to Sam Webster, the mystery was solved and a very tired, very ill Baptiste simply wanted to put things to rest. Quite literally.  

I hope not. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Julien Baptiste is the Albus Dumbledore of the detective world.

Something I just want to touch on – there has been a lot of confusion over the bald chap that Baptiste kept seeing. Perhaps I’m wrong here, but I’ve always just assumed he was a hallucination from Baptiste’s brain tumour. Nothing more to it than that. I’ve read some wonderful theories that this man was actually the brain surgeon tending to his tumour and the whole storyline was really a hallucination or a product of the anaesthetic during his surgery. 

I admire the creativity of this theory but I think it was just the result of a very sick man. Nothing more, nothing less. 

What I was still a little disappointed about was that we didn’t learn particularly much, if anything, about the abductions of any of the girls. We know that Adam knew Lena’s family and we know he worked with Alice’s dad, but how on earth did he know Sophie Giroux? And why did he take them? Was it premeditated? Did he plan to take those specific girls or just anyone he could find? 

And why was his relationship to Alice so much colder than his infatuation with Sophie? Was it simply because Alice was more likely to speak her opinions? Why did he bother keeping her then? Lena was clearly at his disposal for being “annoying”, yet he chose to keep Alice with him for over a decade. Was this just another of his psychotic tendencies coming to light?

A nice unexpected twist at the end was Christian Hertz’s total lack of interest in his wife once he had been released from prison. I wasn’t sure how he would react to the news that it was someone he vaguely knew who had framed him. I guess in some respects, they didn’t really know one another at all. Christian was unaware that his wife knew about the rape of a thirteen year old girl and the murder of a nine year old girl, yet never reported it. Nadia didn’t believe her husband, despite him protesting his innocence throughout the series.

It would be interesting to see if they ever worked through these issues.

The worst and best part of a drama series coming to an end is trying to piece together all the little bits and wondering what, if anything, would ever happen. Eve Stone, for example, carrying Sam Webster’s baby. Eve and Gemma Webster forming an unlikely alliance. Alice returning to her family. Matthew potentially on the road to recovery from years of shutting himself away from his family. Eve getting the truth from Adrian. Sophie’s relationship with Lucy. Sophie’s relationship with her father.

Finally, we are all desperate to know if The Missing will return for a third series. At the end of series one, we got a sneak preview of series two and I was hoping for a repeat of that tonight, but alas, it didn’t materialise. 

There was, however, a wistful feeling drummed up inside me when Baptiste fell asleep on the number “trois” when counting backwards. Perhaps this is an indication of a series number three?

All I can say is that the last eight weeks have been an absolute ball. We’ve gasped and wondered the whole way through and I can only hope that in two years time (if not sooner), we are sat on our sofas as equally obsessed with series three as we were this time and last time.

Until then – it’s been a pleasure!