Let's be an episode of "Poirot"

I'm mincing. And figure wagging, sighing, flower in buttonhole gayness. But I'm not gay, just Belgian.

[quote] I'm the murderer making a self-incriminating confession before all the other suspects, prompted simply by Poirot figuring out how I did it, even though he does not have a shred of actual evidence that could prove I did it.

You're also every episode of "Murder, She Wrote." Just replace Poirot with Jessica Fletcher.

I am NOT French, I am Belgian!

I'm the handsome man who must be guilty because all the other suspects are unattractive.

I am Poirot's moustache. I am his most loyal companion. His human companions come and go (Colonel Hastings, Miss Lemon, Chief Inspector Japp, George, or Ariadne Oliver) but I remain firmly and well maintained with him to the end.

I'm the beautiful, well-maintained art deco building used to set the time and place. I'm gorgeous, but you'll see me no less than seven times throughout the series.

I'm creme de menthe!

I'm the faggot Poirot is allergic to when it's being offered to him by Inspector Japp.

I'm the familiar-looking actor. Where have you seen me before? Was it an episode of Doctor Who? Or Downton Abbey? Maybe it was Broadchurch? Or that show with that guy from League of Gentlemen...shit, what was the name of that show?

I'm Miss Lemon's pussy. I don't stink, and my pubic hair is styled to match the hair on her head.

I'm the wealthy demanding American widow, I demand to be let off this ship at once!

I'm the complicated poison conveniently available because of elaborate plot reasons.

I'm the knickknacks Poirot rearranges.

I'm the two perfectly equal soft boiled eggs resting in egg cups on M Poirot's breakfast table.

I am the dishes that Hastings washes and hands to Poirot for drying - including the inadequately washed ones that Poirot hands back several times.

I'm the tacky, overproduced seasons 9 through the series's end.

I lack all the charm of the earlier episodes.

I am Poirot's completely unnecessary, but totally fashionable, walking stick.

I am the pencil moustache that makes the face look really stupid.

I'm gay porn, added to the original story by the screenwriter.

Seriously.

I'm the brilliant filing system devised by Miss Lemon. When Felicity Lemon and Hastings disappear from the show the office I currently occupy will become the hiding place for Poirot's well maintained dildo collection..

I’m the coin stuck in David Suchet’s buttom when he learns how Poirot walks.

I'm Milo Perrier.

I'm Hastings' hat

I'm Miss Lemon's immaculately trimmed bush

r24, see r10

I’m the wince each time Poirot is called Hercules.

I’m his current companion. You may call me “mon ami.”

Je suis [italic]le mal de mer[/italic], Hercule Poirot's unconquerable foe and menace.

I am the six Art Deco buildings in the UK.

I am all they have.

They keep filming me because, well, really.

I'm a mincing prisspot. If Hercule Poirot weren't eccentric and Belgian, you'd call him one, too.

Poirot is not a mincing prisspot. He’s a Belgian cream puff.

I’m Philip Jackson, portrayer of Inspector Japp. You may recognize me as the “wrench wielding bad guy” from A-Ha’s video of “Take on Me”.

I'm Inspector Jaap's wife. I'm hiding in the same plot closet as Mrs Colombo, Maris Crane and Stanley Walker

I am an oscar nominated actor/actress who started here in a minor role and it took some time so I appear more than once.

R7! It is the Sirop de Cassis!

I am the little gray cells.

I am the tisane, served in Poirot’s favorite cup.

I'm the one, single modernist mansion in England. Every episode shows me at a different angle because we think the audience won't notice.

I am the apparent target of many murder attempts that have apparently accidentally killed other people. Invariably I am the culprit and was out to get those other people.

Hi!

We're the new lesbian characters--yes, we were in the original books, where everyone with half a brain realized what we were. But now we kiss on screen to make the older generation's heads explode.

Hi R40 I'm afraid you lady lovers belong to the Marple episodes.

I am a plot twist involving the villain translating his real name into another language to create an alias.

R41, I, like the location managers of Poirot, hoped no one would have noticed.

I would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for our meddling R40.

^^^^R41, of course.

I’m the plaintive cry “Touch nothing!” as the body is discovered.

[quote]I am a plot twist involving the villain translating his real name into another language to create an alias.

Isn’t that right Fraulein Gruenwald?

Or Felix Ruber.

Or Ima Kunt

I'm the bidet in M. Poirot's bathroom, keeping his shitter gleaming. Japp thinks I'm a fancy sink. Ms Christie has better taste than to mention me in the original books.

I'm the exasperated explanations (plot expositions) Poirot has to provide to the dim Hastings

I'm the coin wedged in David Suchet's crack

I'm Michael Fassbender playing a drunk. I'm a method actor.

R38, I saw an episode recently with that house and I had to look up the location.

I am the chaulmoogra oil used to drive people mad.

I'm the (extremely annoying and distracting) Vaseline on the lens beginning with season 11. I make the episodes so fuzzy, you'll feel the need to clean you glasses and your tv screen.

your*

I'm Poirot's breakfast. The 2 soft boiled eggs must be perfectly identical.

Yes, R54, it's hard to see what's happening on screen.

I'm the mysterious inconsistent footage which occurred in the film (or videotape) over a few years.

The arc lamp wattage was increased or the film was incorrectly processed and bleached in the lab.

I think the goal was to disguise his wrinkles. In reality it just makes everything look blurry and smeary.

I'm The Mystery of the Bumped Threads.

No mystery, I missed it the first time around and have been binge watching Poirot and wanted to discuss.

I'm another recent binge-watcher and I'm fascinated how the stories have been either edited-down or stretched-out to fit the one-hour or two-hour time slot.

I'm 'binge-watching' because my local TV channel has been 'binge-screening' them. And I get thoroughly confused when that channel shows Christie's characters in the 1980s version one week and the same characters acting out the same plot in the later version in the following week.

Which episodes are you bingeing today?

I'm English cuisine, a comfort and joy to Inspector Japp's tastebuds and iron stomach.

To Monsieur Poirot I am tasteless and vile.

I'm the unnecessary group gossip Poirot drops about the other guests at the accusation soiree before finally revealing the murderer. "Did you need to know that Great Uncle Alfred dresses in lingerie? NON! But by God I have spent the last week snooping round this house and I will reveal every dark family secret you all hoped would never see the light of day regardless of its relevancy to the stabbing before getting down to solving this brutal crime."

I'm the 9-inch dildo hidden at the very back of the third drawer of Miss Lemon's meticulous filing. Usually enjoyed every Wednesday morning by Miss Lemon when M. Poirot out is at the barber.

Je suis [italic]mal de mer[/italic], the menace of every Channel crossing.

"'AsTINGS! Summon the steward! I am in need of a tisane de gingembre! What do you mean you don't know what it is? It's ginger you rosbif halfwit!" BLEAAARGH

R64 - How dare you?! Gossip is always necessary. The more salacious the better, especially in a murder investigation.

I'm the jewels the Countess steals all over the world because Poirot was thinking with his cock and let her go.

I'm the evil voice.

I am the moustache torture-wax that ought to have ignited and taken his face with me long before now.

Murder in Paradise always has the detective doing this shit. I guess it's a formula.

I'm the loud, smelly farts that uncouth Inspector Japp does after a night of fine dining at the Belgian's elegant table.

I could have a 1/2 mile exclusion zone in Isleworth.

I'm Captain Hasting's missing grey cells.

I'm the magnifying glass that helps him find there is one page missing from Carlotta Adam's missive to her sister.

I'm Inspector Japp's simmering resentment over always being shown up by Poirot.

I'm a dodgy American accent. It'll be a relief when this character is bumped off.

I'm Miss Lemon's shitty typewriter. Poirot refuses to replace me.

I'm the Vaseline on the lens mentioned in R54 and combined with window glare in R69.

I am the lack of lawyers present at these final reveals. You know, all these suspects should've lawyered up by now (unless they are trapped in a train or boat for some reason). But instead they just humor that little fey and theatrical Belgian and go into these things without legal council. Is it any wonder that Poirot is toying with them and playing his petty little mind games to prolong their torture? They have only themselves to blame.

I'm the literary snob who says these characters are utterly one-dimensional and completely lacking one iota of psychological consistency.

They are Mr A, Mr B, Mrs C, Mrs D, Miss E and F etcetera being pushed through some contortions of Step 1, step 2, step 3 etcetera.

I am the early seasons, when everything is campy and funny, even though people are being murdered and will be hanged, and even though Christie’s books are dark and quite serious.

I am 1936. There were more murders among England's upper class during me than all the years before or since combined.

I'm the slurred names.

Marple is a variation of the common word marble. Poirot is a variation on the celebrated couturier Poiret

[quote]without legal council

Oh, dear.

I'm the murderer who dresses up as someone else to try to foil Poirot

I'm Nurse Leatheran, pushed aside for TV to make room for Hastings. That twit is lucky there wasn't one more murder in Mesopotamia.

Hi Nurse Leatheran! You were missed as the narrator of the story! How crazy is it your mistress had such a poor memory for faces?!

I never gossip about my patients. I'll just mention that face blindness, or Prosopagnosia, is a real condition.

But then so is Faecal Encephalopathy.

I'm Colonel Hastings' hard-on for The Wrong Woman. I get quite a workout.

I'm Bella Duveen and I'll put an end to all these pesky erections for Arthur. Especially for his fey little Belgian friend.

I am a sentiment translated too literally from French. Do not mock yourself at me!

Lol R91 I am the red fish who distracts from the real killer!

I'm the earrings

I Am the caftans

"The little Frog is Belgian!"