Death in Paradise: one for those who are not afraid of something different

Two nights ago I watched - on my laptop, in the caravan - the last episode of Series 14 of Death in Paradise. It's the one in which the 'new' detective played by Don Gilet (a football-loving Londoner who for most of Series 14 has wanted to get home again) finally discovers an over-riding personal reason to stay. It's also the one in which the close-to-retirement Commissioner (played from the very beginning by Don Warrington) decides not to accept the offer of his job back after it was snatched away in a cost-cutting exercise. In both cases, the course taken is difficult, but potentially cathartic. And I for one want to see what happens in Series 15.

This is a show that (like Vera) I first watched during the coronavirus lockdowns five years ago. I was quickly hooked by the premise: the fish-out-of-water British detective suddenly plunged into a Caribbean murder investigation, and proving himself to the local force (and the formidable Commissioner). Always a British detective with an unusual personality. And the crimes also unusual, generally oddball, always baffling, and yet happening in an idyllic location - not what one expects. It has worked. And I have always found Death in Paradise well worth watching, a series to look forward to. 

Yes, the main plots seem to proceed according to a formula. You know almost to the minute when the British detective will have his moment of brilliant insight, and announce that he has the answer. I don't mind that. The solution is always intriguing, and often completely unguessable. But there are also ongoing subplots connected to the other characters, that go forward from episode to episode, and indeed series to series. These deal with the personal circumstances and development of the local officers, and to my mind supply as much interest as solving the crime. Then there is the exotic backdrop, the lush island St Marie (in real life, Guadaloupe). And in every episode, insofar as they serve the plot, glimpses of ordinary life and ordinary people on the island. 

How authentic is all this? It's hard to tell. I have never been to a Caribbean island. I'm sure the location shots are genuine enough and need little embellishment. But I can't say how real the overall picture is. So long as I treat it all as entertainment, the question of absolute authenticity may not matter too much. But I do have a yardstick for these things. The offshoot show, Beyond Paradise, has Looe in Cornwall as its Honoré, and I know Looe and its surrounding area pretty well. So I can judge somewhat.

One thing that had however become questionable about Death in Paradise was the notion of a foreign police detective officer being parachuted in. Was there no closer talent, perhaps in Jamaica? It looked uncomfortably 'colonial'. The new detective was always white, always male. Did Britain have no other kind of officer to fly out? And why always so quirky? 

Of course, the incongruous and eccentric British officer went with the premise; and there were obvious story-lines to be exploited. The officer would find himself missing his old life, but eventually liking the new, and possibly becoming romantically attached to a local (Caribbean) girl. All good stuff. But it was pleasing to see that, from the beginning, the local Caribbean personnel were not treated merely as colourful extras. Their own histories, problems, emotions and romances were revealed. Gradually, series by series, the local staff and certain other local characters became as important to the life of the show as the British detective. 

So I was pleased to see a logical development in Series 14: the detective, now played by Don Gilet, was black. Aha! For the first time the entire police department at Honoré was ethnically the same, for it turned out that the character Don Gilet was playing originated from St Marie (his murdered Mum lived there). We also found out as a cliff-hanger that he had a brother on another island, whom he will no doubt meet in Series 15. So he was in the strange position of a person hitherto alone in the world, now discovering a close relative he had never before heard of. How will that pan out? 

Standing back a bit, though, it struck me that I couldn't think of another keenly-watched primetime TV drama that featured an entirely 'Caribbean' cast. This is one of Series 14's achievements. No white face in sight, apart from the tourists. This is amazing, something to celebrate. And not just if you happen to be black. The show will resonate with any person who feels different, is in a minority of any kind, or whose life is even slightly at odds with what it means to be conventionally British. Which includes me: my life is different, and not at all conventional. And I assert my intention to remain that way. 

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I wonder if I could have your personal point of view?

Have you ever been stopped in the street by someone with a microphone, and asked to give your point of view on something topical? 

It's happened to me only once. It was in August 2016. I was at Bridgnorth, in the West Midlands. A man from the local radio station, with a microphone and some kind of professional-looking recording apparatus slung over his shoulder, was strolling along the High Street, clearly looking for people to interview. I thought about avoiding him, and walking the other way: I wasn't eager for stardom. On the other hand it was an intriguing situation. Suppose he accosted me and gave me the opportunity to speak? Would I be equal to it? Would I be able to assume a confident air, and discourse eloquently on some important issue of the day? It would certainly be a novel experience. In fact a test of coolness and quick thinking. But I wasn't sure. 

Fate intervened before I could escape. No doubt it was inevitable. Perhaps I looked exactly the right kind of educated person who could string a few words together. And if I only spouted incoherent tosh, he'd still be able to edit out anything that made no sense. It would be all right. At any rate, I was accosted. I prepared to be the ideal interviewee, a lively, good-value Person In The Street, well worth his time.  

But he totally threw me. He wanted to know what I thought about the Olympic Games then going on at Rio in Brazil.  

Poor man: of all the persons he could have stopped and interviewed, it had to be someone who took no interest whatever in sport. No, I hadn't watched any of the Games. No, I didn't know the name of any competitors, nor how they had fared. No, I couldn't care less who had won, nor what the tally of medals was. Really, I had no opinion at all about the Games. 

He saw he had made a mistake about me, but he persevered. Did I think the Games were an inspiration to young people? Yes, I supposed I did; but I couldn't go on to say why or how. Did I think it would be a matter for great national pride? I supposed so, if the British Team did well. What might it mean for the West Midlands, and Bridgnorth in particular? I couldn't say - I was here on holiday. I had no local or regional standpoint.

He couldn't get blood out of a stone, so we left it there. I was quite certain that my few words would be wiped. I didn't mind that. But as I walked away, I found I did mind his thinking that I was an idiot, oblivious to world events and current affairs - emphatically not true - or that I was snobbish or superior about the Games and what they meant. I almost blushed with shame for my indifference, for I was certain he'd have judged me to my detriment.

That feeling soon passed, obliterated by the excitement of riding down Bridgnorth's cliff lift, and then photographing from an overbridge the spectacular steamy happenings at the Severn Valley Railway's Bridgnorth station. 

But later on, I pondered what had happened. I felt a dim sense of injustice. Why should anyone pay the Olympic Games - or any other sporting event - any special attention? Did we - or specifically myself - owe the athletes anything? No. I hoped they did well for themselves, and fulfilled personal ambitions, but that was all. Was I being unpatriotic? No; not when I felt that the Games - and international sport generally, football especially - was dishonestly conducted, far too political, and a waste of national money and resources. 

My one and only radio interview, a failure, left no lasting legacy except to make me very wary of ever doing the same thing again. It's much too easy to seem foolish or ignorant when speaking on the fly. And nowadays there is the added risk that someone will find one's stumbling words objectionable, with dire trouble ensuing. No thanks.

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Custard pies and days out in Calais without a passport

Only one post in February! I have to go back to April 2009 to find a month in which I wrote so little. The constant happenings in America have distracted me. 

King Donald has been chipping away at normality every day. Clearly a man in a hurry to make big changes while he can. And all suavity and pretence have now been discarded. I was appalled to see President Zelensky spoken to so cruelly, and then hustled out of the White House, probably never to return. This very public humiliation of a visiting head of state may well show how all other leaders will be dealt with in future. Sir Keir Starmer - whom I think is proving more capable at foreign diplomacy that I'd have believed a year ago - had better expect to hear some blunt words when - or if - he next meets King Donald. Actually, such a meeting may be left to Mr Vance, who shows a clear talent for calculated viciousness and diversion from the expected agenda.

Should the state visit (King Donald meeting our King Charles) go ahead? Actually, yes: it will be interesting to see how a pretend King copes with a real one. He is bound to trip up on protocol. Besides, in the name of honesty and free expression, I'd like to see several well-timed Hollywood-style custard pies hitting King Donald in the face. It would make 'great television', and I fully expect King Donald to laugh heartily at the joke. The throwers should, of course, get either diplomatic immunity or a Royal Pardon. 

The world is realigning. I expect to hear soon that there is to be a European Alliance to succeed NATO, composed of the UK, the EU, and all other like-minded states in what is geographically Europe. It won't include America or Russia, simply because they are not 'in Europe'. To facilitate this new Alliance, and fund its own destiny, Europe will have to integrate. I think that, for Britain, this will undo much of what Brexit achieved (if it did in fact achieve anything). Back in 2016, I voted enthusiastically for Brexit, on the sole point of having our own sovereignty and the ability to go our own way. But things have now changed, and I would feel happier and safer living in something like a United States of Europe. Naturally I want Britain to be a key player in that entity. It's a second-best for 'independent sovereignty' but a chance to re-connect with the continent and get necessary things done. 

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