Let's be a Netflix British Crime Series

I'm the female detective who is young and looks like a lingerie model. I'm secretly in love with the older gruff detective and pine for him every waking moment.

I’m the initial suspect who can never be the real killer because I’m too obvious.

I'm Olivia Colman.

I'm the kid my single-parent detective mom or dad struggles to make time for, but I understand because I'm plucky and self-reliant and I know my mom or dad loves me. We miss the parent who left, though.

I'm the random murder that turns out to be a family vendetta, that turns out to be politically motivated, that turns out to be a cover up for another murder committed by a high ranking official. I'm confusing as fuck.

I'm the dank, dark cellar, attic or shed that the unarmed detective must explore with a flashlight in the middle of the night.

I'm these two and you want us both in you deeply.

I'm the black assistant detective and so much hotter than my white-assed ginger-haired superior.

I am the plot involving dirty doing at the orphanage many years ago the involves current high ranking political figures and was covered up by the now police chief. I am recycled about every three years.

I am the murder that was totally senseless and unnecessary, but the murderer misinterprets something causing mayhem in everyone else's life.

I am the full furnished house that has been empty for 30-40 years and never looted or taken over by squatters.

We're the accents that you struggle to understand and only catch every other word.

I'm the Shakespearean character actor, finally making some decent quid as perp #3

[quote]I am the full furnished house that has been empty for 30-40 years and never looted or taken over by squatters.

LOL. Don't forget the half inch layer of dust and cobwebs.

I am the music that everyone raves over, not realizing that it is just padding to stretch a story that could easily be told in one hour over three one hour installments.

I’m the conspicuous diversity.

Somebody's been bingeing on "Shetland", I see.

I'm Archie Panjabi and I will eventually have a story arc on this show. My accent has slight American overtones even though I'm supposed to be Scottish. From Kirkwall.

I am the actually decent program that is cancelled leaving a cliff hanger unresolved.

I am the last two seasons that are not yet available in the USA and probably never will be.

R15, Shetland, Hinterland, The Coroner...

I’m the detective whose own family member is the murderer, but I’m too dim to figure it out.

I'm the Chief Superintendent who tells the investigating Sergeant to stay out of things that don't concern him!

I'n the tough as old boots female DCI who calls everyone "love".

We're the detectives who always arrive too late to catch the killer before he commits his second murder, but just in a nick of time in to save the third victim in the climax scene.

I'm the preposterous ending that pisses all over all the frank realism that's come before.

My god, you're all so brilliantly funny! I wish I could know who you are so you could be my friend.

I'm the informant who just happens to know who the police are looking for but I'm murdered before we can have our clandestine 2AM meeting in a car park.

I'm the rent erected over the spot where the body is found.

I am the character who appears in the first 10 minutes and then disappears for the majority next three one hour installments. I am the murderer, of course.

I am the major red herring, often mirroring a current event, that hides the fact that the actual murder is merely petty romantic jealousy or infidelity.

I am the murderer who is actually the first body found. I am so freaking incompetent that I accidentally mortally wounded myself during the murder.

tent -- goddam DL for having no edit ability

I'm the acerbic elderly female character; I'm either a landlady, or someone's mum, or a barmaid. I give sage advice that gives the detective an idea that solves the case.

I'm Christ on the cross and I'm all over this fecking show!

I am the fox's scream...barking in the night.

I am the stubbly, haunted face of the detective, who is living through the trauma of missing his ex-wife, ex-kids, or ex-terrier. I drink copiously to forget. I go back to work the next day un-refreshed and more haggard than ever. My eye bags have eye bags. I smell like stale booze from across the street. My refrigerator has some beer and a leftover sprig of parsley. Maybe some condiments.

I am the dumpy, matronly DCI with the rumpled, greying curls flying in the breeze. I am sullen.

I am the viewer’s closed captioning, which is turned on to “English” so he can understand what the hell is going on.

I'm the cranky old recluse that is suspicious at first, but turns out to have a heart of gold.

I am the very expensive row house flat where every inch of the original dark wood has been painted white.

I am the traditional village pub that either has ,or is in danger of becoming a wine bar. (See above.)

I am the rock musician/ rock group that has taken over the local manor.

R30, to be more specific: I am the one frigg'n recording of a fox that is used in every goddam show.

I am the brightly painted walls in everyone’s homes, defying the grey weather outside.

I'm the angry father who growls, "I know what you say my son did. He were innocent and you police hounded him to his grave!"

I'm the drab wardrobe, make up an hair---steadfastly authentic in it's frumpiness.

I am the middle aged witness stumping along in my Wellies. I know what happened, but I’m not telling you, stranger!

Well, I'm the ugly wallpaper and dark varnished woodwork that signifies you are in a lower class home.

We're the miles of open landscapes that the detective has to drive through that give the viewer a sudden feeling of agoraphobia they've never experience before.

I am the kitchen in the detective's house. His wife redoes it about every two seasons.

I am seemingly endless supply of period wallpaper used on the sets making one totally ignore the program as you wonder, "Where the hell did they find that?"

I am the shiny new, model good-looks actors that are quickly replacing the actors who had character.

We're the hot background extras that look like we were cast from UK Lads. We distract you from what the witness is saying and you miss an important plot point. Damn our gorgeous eyes!

I’m the sinister corner shop owner. I give monosyllabic answers and look shifty in my baggy cardigan and carpet slippers. I’m the pedo in the park, the kiddie fiddler in the kiosk, the reddest of herrings.

I'm the WTF? version of the UK's equivalent to Miranda rights read to every person "helping the police with their enquiries."

I'm the shirt lifter and I didn't kill that boy. Now the detective has to live with that for the rest of his life.

R43,

Good one!

I'm the pedo ring being run by politicians and high ranking police officers. You thought I was made up but just you wait!

I'm the detective who always gets it wrong and cocks up the investigation. How I've managed to hold onto my rank is a mystery on par with the case I'm currently working on.

I'm the creepy old outcast who starts out as a prime suspect. Under questioning, my tragic backstory is revealed and I offer an important clue.

I'm the computer database that INSTANTLY informs the "pleace invesitagahs" whatever they need to know about any one of the 60+ million possible suspects who could be implicated in the crime.

I'm one of the almost 5 million CCTV cameras blanketing the UK. And I always work.

I'm the shocking revelation that turns the entire investigation on it's head!

I'm the nefarious posh guy who's plotting the installation of a pipeline through someone's plot of land or the construction of a supermarket to replace the beloved local pub. I actually have a decent haircut and good teeth to signpost my higher social status.

I am the youngish loner who lives in a caravan in the woods. I am suspected of being a pedo because of my interest in a local boy (usually deaf), but in fact, I am his father. This plot is recycled in rotation with the orphanage one.

And to riff on R52, I'm also an ex lover of the female detective who hopes to rekindle our love while running down her detective partner who she secretly loves.

R53 that was a good episode, petal.

R55, OK, but which of the at least three versions are your referring to?

Vera R56. I haven't seen any others.

I'm the ugly skinny skinhead who, with me mates, gives the young female inspector the evil eye as she walks past us hangin' about the World War I monument in town.

I'm the British actress you know you've seen before in another show, but you can't quite put your finger on who I am. It distracts you for the entire episode until.....

Really? I thought it was Olivia Coleman.

We're the two ways--and only two ways--that gay mean are depicted; as closeted tortured souls or as flaming queens.

I'm the only gay in the village.

Yes, and being the only gay (closeted of course) in the village has caused a cascade of secrets, crimes and coverups.

I'm something that occurred during the German occupation of Jersey in WWII that has parked a crime spree in the village in 2017 involving hatchets and harpoons.

sparked^^

I am the allusion to classical literature/art/music, designed to make the viewer feel smug without overtaxing their brains.

I'm the cast that has been hired because they can act.

I'm a blank screen because Netflix hasn't produced a British crime series. At best they are online distributors, not sole distributors.

I'm the jazz or "modern country" that the detective loves to listen to, in period or modern era. Scotch in the foreground, turntable skipping as the sun rises. Detective asleep at desk.

I'm the ceilidh that is happening in every pub or bar in Scotland.

I'm the CCTV camera image that is sharp even when blown-up twenty times. I give a clear image of the suspect.

I really love this thread !

R59, I laughed out loud.

I'm the dodgy torrent stream for people without Netflix or the BBC iPlayer.

I'm the closed captioning that allows American audiences to understand WTF the actors are actually saying.

Without me, it might as well be in Urdu.

I’m the male/female middle aged detective team who hate each other at first, growing to grudgingly respect each other and eventually become close friends

^one of the above has a jealous spouse who suspects us of having an affair.

I'm Donna Brazile. I always know who the murderer is before the episode even starts.

I'm the broadcast on an American Channel. I sometimes miss key scenes.

I'm the sun. I am NEVER shining.

I'm the voluptuous teenage girl with the long beautiful hair, thrown into the plot just to sex it up. I have nothing to do with the solution of the murder(s).

I'm the other voluptuous but frightened young woman running barefoot through the woods in the first scene. I breathe hard.

I am the sullen teen who misleads the detectives because she's jealous her dead slut best friend is getting all the attention.

[quote]I am suspected of being a paedo

I'm James Norton. I'm slumming until my big break comes.

And you know it will.

I'm jazz. The detective loves me.

I'm the detective's distant father who had a weird hobby and neglected me.

I'm the roads in Yorkshire, totally empty except for the detective's car and a suspect's car/van.

I'm the estate housing. Detective's walk along my outdoor hallways and get ready to kick in the door while multiethnic neighbors look on.

I am the esoteric Classical literature references that the Detective casually drops into the conversation that none of the American audience understand.

[quote] I'm the angry father who growls, "I know what you say my son did. He were innocent and you police hounded him to his grave!

No, he wouldn't say "you police," he'd say, "you lot."

"You lot! You're back 'ere! Well you can get out! It was you lot who drove 'im to 'is grave!"

[quote]I am the esoteric Classical literature references that the Detective casually drops into the conversation that none of the American audience understand.

Oh, honey,that is the only reason we watch these shows.

I'm a children's nursery rhyme and the killer is using one line for each victim s/he kills. Americans never heard me before, so half the episode is a "huh?" until the senior detective recites me.

I'm one of the beautiful young women who are raped and murdered every episode. The camera loves to pan up and down my body, lingering on my ample bosoms and bruised, naked thighs as I lay dead in the scrub. Later there will be flashbacks of how I was tortured and killed. Because the lead detective is a strong woman this is really a cutting edge programme and not just another pile of repetitive, misogynist torture porn.

R88, Good one!

I'm the Guinea fowl, peacocks and pheasants who roam the UK woods at night and call out, even though in every other country, we sleep at night.

I'm the English house sparrows chattering in the background of outdoor scenes and I often drown out the dialog.

I'm the fresh-looking body, un-decomposed. There is some dirt covering my face, but when the coroner brushes it away, I am recognizable. The coroner then says, "I'd say she's been dead out here for about 3 months."

R91, Are you sure you aren't thinking of the fox? They actually sound more like a bird than a mammal.

I'm Nicola Walker and Rupert Graves. I'll show up on this show eventually.

Nope. I'm a bird watcher. I really do know those sounds.

Peacock

I'm WWII. Grudges from me caused some murders, but that stopped back in the 90s and early 2000s, as actors old enough to have been in the war died or became demented.

I'm driving a motorcycle/mini bike. Someone will kill me by tying a wire to two trees along my motorcycle path, which happens to be in the middle of the woods.

I'm the inheritance. It's always about me.

I'm short tempered and violent. I scream at my coworkers at the precinct, grab them by the lapels, beat them up. I throw drug suspects off the roof. Surprisingly, some of my coworkers and superiors don't like me. They try to set me up, but I always end up screaming at them, beating them up, sometimes killing them, and I'm vindicated. Until next week.

I also use perps I've arrested in the past to help me solve crimes. Prostitutes, serial killers, e.g. My police coworkers think that's wrong. That's ok. I'll just grab them by the lapels, scream and beat them up.

I love this thread and all of its contributors. More! More!

I'm tea. You can't get away from me. Everybody thinks someone else should have me. Detectives give me to suspects and witnesses. Grieving family members insist the police have me. The police allow me to be made by the grieving family, who bring in a tray with me, cups and milk. They serve me to the detectives,, who never drink me. The detectives always bolt up and say, "Excuse me" and run off.

I'm sympathy. I go well with R102 and am the reason the detectives let the homeowners make the tea they know they will never drink. Gives them summat to do and takes their minds off things.

I'm the tight form-fitting trousers on the young detective. Totally unrealistic but you know you love me!!!

I'm the wind turbines and nuclear power plant domes of Yorkshire. I loom up from behind the gritty terrace houses, the forlorn stone farmhouses, the empty roadways of the dales. Why do murders always take place near me?

I'm the drink, and I cause more problems than I solve.

I'm some pinched face old prude who remembers the person who was murdered decades ago. I berate you and put you in your place and you want to give me a right good clip 'round the ear 'ole but you don't because you know I have information that will help you. I'm old and will die soon too, most likely right after our scene.

I'm the local pub with the sticky tabletops where we have a pint and talk about the case.

I'm the old school lefty who still enjoys irritating the council with protests about the new supermarket that has been proposed in the idyllic village or the new petrol station that will be built near the town's one roundabout. I usually own a book store and host readings by authors who for some reason have a connection to the idyllic village from their shady past. I host small soirees at my ancient home that has many, many book shelves.

You think I'm gay, but more often I'm just a single middle-aged man who is bedding a number of the local women who aren't getting 'it' from their husbands.

I'm rarely the murderer, but the detectives always learn something important from me and my gossipy assistant.

I'm the extra who tells my nefarious boss where the detective can be found so the boys can jump him. Next episode I'm the extra in the pub buying a round for me mates. No one asks if I'm the same guy that got the copper thumped even though I look just like him.

I'm the gratuitous skinhead

I'm the actress who plays the mother of the murder victim. I've been snot-crying, sobbing and blubbering for two fucking seasons of this show. When will my character get over it so she can have a drink and a laugh at the pub with her friends.

"She were a bit wild, ess true. But she alless come home, eventual-like. Cept tha last time."

I'm the orphanage/wayward boys/girls home that closed 20 years ago. I have a lot of plaster dust, cobwebs, broken window shutters, damp marks and fluttering bird wing sounds, but I still contain easily readable ledgers detailing students, teachers, doctors and VIP visits. The ledgers are lying serenely in the middle of my floor. They tell the detective exactly what went on here all those years ago, and who was involved.

My remnants solve the recent murder of the elderly groundskeeper (who was a retired, guilty worker at the orphanage/home), the mysterious disappearance of a young lad/lass 30 years ago and I will be responsible for the arrest of a young adult male/female who was traumatized by childhood events at the abandoned home/institution. Tbe judge will go easy the young adult, considering the circumstances.

Horrible, terrible, unspeakable things took place inside of me. I am to be demolished for a housing estate. The detective watches as bulldozers and cranes destroy me .... at last

^^^^^^

And I've got pictures on the wall. Unsullied, framed photos of students/inmates from 25 years ago. Some of the teachers/workers/administrators are in photos and are still recognizable as the current chairman of the county planning board, the vicar and the chief of police.

I'm Dr Foster and I've set the template for any dysfunctional marital situation the main female detective is involved in.

I'm the female judge, of either South Asian or black ancestry. I'll allow whatever dodgy trick the defense tries, no matter how illegal it might be, because "I want to see where all this is going."

I’m the body of a hapless murder victim who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

In life, my name was Eustace.

I'm the mysterious serial killer, dispatching eacah of my victims in entirely different ways (unlike any actual serial killer whoever lived) according to something to do with high culture, like the plots of Italian operas or of Edgar Allan Poe stories. The detective's encyclopedic knowledge of said high culture will prove useful in tracking me down.

I'm expensively framed eighteenth-century English county maps by Mordden used to signal this particular crime scene or interview scene is owned by a wealthy yuppie.

I'm the awkward and gawky detetctive's inexplicable supposed sex appeal that allows him to get laid every season.

I am the five-ton chandelier in the state room of the local manor house. I have not been lit since 1961.

I am the owner of the local manor house. I have not been not lit since 1961.

I am the handsome blonde cad with tight pants, usually played by someone like Rupert Penry-Jones. I [italic]seem[/italic] guilty, because I am oversexed and immoral, but I am instead most of the time just a red herring.

I am the new chief superintendent and I will not tolerate my predecessor’s lax attention to protocol. I expect all of you to adhere to the rule of law and to present yourselves to the public as exemplary representatives of the police services. I want all of you here on time and looking sharp at the beginning of each and every day and I do not hold with breaches of proper policing standards. I hope you all understand that I am not at all tolerant of shoddy performance or bringing disgrace upon my station house.

I am five consecutive hours of sleep. Detective Chief Inspector Jane Tennison last saw me sometime back around October of 1979.

I am the rumpled, often bruised, detective. I drink too much, I’m rude, I’m over educated for my position and I’m definitely on the spectrum. I disappear for days on end - without bathing or changing clothes - due to my obsessive dedication to my job.

Every beautiful, morally decent, well dressed, well educated, perfectly coiffed, intelligent woman I come across wants to fuck me.

I’m the senior detective’s wife. I’m putting the kettle on, so you sit right down and have your breakfast. Don’t forget your cheese & pickle sandwiches! And can you give our plucky, slightly attractive daughter a ride to work? She’ll meet your underling detective driver, and they might take a liking to each other, what do you say? He seems a nice lad. Have you got your torch? This may turn out to be the Halloween episode where you have to chase ghosts in period clothing around that old abandoned orphanage/ wayward boys/girls home/school. Mind how you go!

I am the clueless American referring to barristers as 'attorneys'.

With a nod of recognition to R106. I'm the vast quantities of hard liquor consumed by the detective(s) and the suspect(s) alike. I'm omnipresent in the local pub(s), but the real boozing takes place late at night, in brooding privacy, behind closed doors. In dim light and shadows.

I'm the porter at one of the colleges in Oxford. I wear the trademark suit and bowler hat. I keep a ledger of all comings and goings, all maintenance work and I sort the mail.

I'm definitely involved in all this murder as mayhem, somehow.

Im the painting in the wall. I'm not just some random artwork you ordered from pottery Barn. I'm the portrait of a queen whose years of reign are actually the combination to the murdered man's safe. 1533-1603!

Now I'm the painting of a village with a clock tower. The clock on the tower reads 12:30. The murdered man bought an [italic] actual clock [/italic] and put it on the bureau right under me. Tbe [italic] actual clock [/italic] reads 12:30. The murdered man did this to alert any genius who steps into the room to solve my murder by opening the [italic] actual clock [/italic] and finding a bit of microfilm containing photos of the SPY RING he discovered.

I'm a painting of a nighttime landscape containing a nebula that didn't exist in the 16th century, thereby letting the detective know I'm a fake.

I'm a landscape hanging in a museum and the detective stares at me and jumps up, suddenly realizing the solution to the crime has something to do with a blah blah blah vanishing point, therefore blah blah blah postcard of the painting blah blah blah message scrawled on the back blah blah ...oh forget it.

We paintings sure do come in handy in British crime dramas

I'm the episode set in New York. I consist of a bunch of anti-American stereotypes, unconvincing "gangsta" accents from black British actors, two establishing shots of the skyline and Manchester's one Art Deco building, photographed from six different directions.

I'm the dank and misty moors that the detective needs to hike across in order to retrace the victim's last steps.

I'm Nicola Walker and I will make my appearance on the show.

I'm dawn over the picturesque lake. The light is glittering on the water, there's dew on the grass, the reeds are barely rustling in the gentle breeze and the birds are chirping. Where are they? Ah, here they come, dressed in a khaki anorak and sensible boots, the middle-aged dog walker with the unleashed dog. This dog is very disobedient, isn't he? Won't come when called. Barking at something in the reeds. Naughty dog. Oh well, better see what he's barking at. Wait for it. Here it comes...there. The widening eyes. The gasp. It's a body!

Cut.

We are Scandinavian crime noir dramas. We deliver all of this, but in a better and more suspenseful manner.

I am exaggerated hard R's, employed by the actors playing American characters. I sound extremely forced to American ears.

I am a beloved actress mostly unrecognizable now to American eyes and even to younger British eyes. Although I won major British acting awards in the 70s playing Tudor and Hanover queens on major BBC miniseries, I am now reduced to playing tiny supporting roles as elderly landladies on shows like this. My life is a living hell.

R135, see R94.

[quote] I am exaggerated hard R's, employed by the actors playing American characters. I sound extremely forced to American ears.

Along with what they think are Americanisms, like “Well, gee,,” “goddamned,” and “Hey listen, mister!”

I am fashion sense.

I am not here.

I'm Miss Carruthers of Vashtly Hall, Little Heaping. My late father was the baronet. I hay the fields myself with the help of Paddy, my 90-year old groundskeeper, and own one skirt, a wraparound that makes me look like a tweed postbox. I am gruff yet kind and most likely covering up for the killer out of an understandable yet misplaced sense of duty. In my 61 years on this planet no one has ever wondered why I never married.

I'm Harry Potter/Game of Thrones- the reason why viewers recognize all the supporting actors on these shows.

I’m the police officer who has been hiding the fact that I am one of the orphans/wayward boys to which horrible, unspeakable things happened in the Special Room at the long-closed — but still standing — orphanage/school-home for wayward boys. I was incarcerated by my given name, but my name was changed by my adoptive/foster parents to the name by which I am known today

. I’ve been drinking way too much since the investigation of the orphanage/school-home for wayward boys began. My hands shake. I’ve been planting evidence to throw the police off the track so I can help murder my tormentors with my now-adult, similarly abused friends from the orphanage/school-home for wayward boys.

I'm the Vicar, studying Catholicism with my gay theologian friend. My wife hates the gossip and vicarage. She purchased arsenic recently and the village chemist is into high church and high tea.

I'm the jug of milk served with that ubiquitous tea.

I'm John Thaw.

Do you miss me?

I'm Shaun Evans. You know me as Endeavour Morse on Endeavour. Before that, I appeared in season 3 of Whitechapel as a suspect.

Shaun Evans played the suspect in whitechapel the same way he plays Morse. Surly & suspicious. He hasn't got a huge range.

I’m the ventriloquist dummy. I’m bound to show up on any mystery/crime series that lasts more than a few years, eventually. I answer the questions the police ask the ventriloquist.

I’m the abandoned well. Everybody forgot about me. But a killer has put a victim inside of me. But the victim may not be dead.

I’m the jacket with the fur-edged hood. No matter the location—coastal Wales, English countryside, central London—I will be worn by the female lead.

I’m the Downton Abbey cast, looking for work.

So good! Bumping for a friend.

I'm Laurence Fox's humongously thick cock encased in only the thinnest layer of stylish bespoke pants as I play Sergeant James Half-a-gay. (The name Fox is supposed to have given his character.)

Brooker did all of this years ago with the fucking brilliant, 'A Touch of Cloth'

I'm the gruff yet kindly uniformed sergeant. I'm often on the desk, even though there are lots of junior police officers at the station. The young detectives will get a vital breakthrough by asking me about old criminals and cases from my time as a young copper. I'm usually played by Gerard Horan but sometimes I'm Trevor Cooper.

And I'm the now retired detective who totally fucked up a case in the past which has allowed this murder to occur. "No, the vicar was ruled out at the start of the investigation."

Also I'm the rural C of E vicar. I'm found dead with a potato up my arse. The potato is a red herring. Turns out that was self inflicted. The title of the episode isn"But Never on Sunday."

Also I'm the rural heap of stones Victorian Church of England parish on a Sunday morning. There are only five old ladies at the service. The detective is forced to attend because the crime has something to do with the young vicar.

I'm a fuckable Chav. I blackmail and steal but I'm not the murderer. I have dickmatised the murderer, however.

I'm the slightly threatening Cockney geezer. I say things "They nicked it" and "the Old Bill. "

I'm the Muslim woman in the chadoor.

I intimidate you.

I’m the eccentric with a secret past that is somehow tangentially connected to the murder(s) but will unfold as a secondary storyline, often as a red herring to confuse viewers. I’m known to everyone in the village and either pitied or feared.

I could be - the bachelor who lives in the same croft he was born in with enviable views of the sea; the elderly toff, man or woman, usually the last of my line, and living in the big old manor house which itself has long since seen it’s best days, I usually have at least one faithful retainer whose own family has worked the estate for generations who defends/protects me from inquisitive types; the shopkeeper/publican/chemist/etc. from the village who knows everyone and their habits and judges them all as I sit alone each night with my tea; the maiden lady, usually the daughter of a judge, doctor, etc. living in the large house on the village green - I employ a dim girl as my maid, and an older, rougher woman as my cook, neither live in, I’m often the president of the local WI, historical society, flower club or similar; the local artist/author who just showed up in the village one day, stayed, and became accepted as a local - I never talk about my past, nor do I have any visitors though I do go away every few months never saying where, to the curiosity of the rest of the village; et cetera, et cetera.

We all drink like fish, either behind doors or at the pub. Our hobbies may be odd/old fashioned - taxidermy, pressing flowers, needlepoint, doll or toy soldier collecting, etc.. Our secret always involves a wrong done to us in our youth that has coloured the way our lives have turned out. We are equal parts bitter and resigned to how our lives have turned out.

While never the murderer, and only occasionally a subsequent victim, our storylines and actors/actresses are often more interesting than the main story, leaving viewers wanting more.

I’m the deathbed the murderer lies in as he finally confesses to the murder. Even though the detective has spent two hours of primetime not suspecting me, he’ll be treated as a genius for understanding that I am the murderer when I tell him I am the murderer.

I’m the scenery. I am much more important than the plot or the acting.

R166 lol!!! You win the thread.

I'm the trite, histrionic denouement that betrays all the attempts at realism up to that point.

I'm a lovely Olde Tea Shop in a quaint market town, but soon a vengeful poisoner will slip something into the Earl Grey and all my previously loyal customers will desert me....

I'm Phoebe Nicholls.

I'm a cunt.

Doesn't matter what detective series I'm guesting in - I play the cunt. I don't even have to be in a detective series to be a cunt. I cunt everywhere, in every dramatic series I'm in (except the original Brideshead Revisited, where I played a character too young to be a cunt).

I don't like you or your family or your friends. Your family was nothing but a bunch of churlish commoners and you will never amount to anything. I abhor being in your presence and squeeze my crossed arms with my fingers as I stare disapprovingly at you.

Now if you'll excuse me, I really must be going. I'm having the Bick-Chalefords over for dinner tonight. You can find your way out, I'm sure. You look at least capable of that.

R171 The cuntishness is duly noted. Yours, The Marquess of Flintshire

I'm ugly architecture. I come in two flavors, historic but grim and "modern" and pee-stained. I show up in the first version whenever someone with a double barreled name gets, well, both barrels. I show up in the second version whenever we go in for social realism by showing a bunch of kids wot got no teef or future neither, innit.

I am the female lead detective. I'm homely and pregnant but my good-looking ex-lover still hits on me or I am homely but I have a really good-looking husband who wants to make love to me but I'm too busy trying to solve murders.

r175 also = Olivia Colman in The Night Manager.

I'm the one detective who's recognizably working class. My accent, gut and off-the-rack suit is meant to make the show look realistic. Instead I just make the viewer notice how posh my coworkers are.

I'm Ruth Sheen and while I'm not the most attractive person, I do have a certain sympathetic quality that makes me appealing. I usually play someone with a dodgy/tragic past but a heart of gold.

She was in BRAMWELL back in the 1990's.

I'm Sheridan Smith.

I'm Nicola Walker. This deadly serious look is my one and only facial expression.

[quote]I'm the drab wardrobe, make up an hair---steadfastly authentic in it's frumpiness.

I actually prefer British shows for just this reason. Our shows are distracting with actresses who are too young and silicone pumped wearing stilettos and short skirts playing detectives.

I'm one of the two dozen writers whom the English club of tv producers and executives allows to write these shows. I get my plots either from the books I've read or from the episodes of the other tv shows which are written by my friends. Every now and then we all get together and make fun of our viewers' stupidity.

I’m the aristocratic family who live in the manor and lord over the village. I treat the detectives with cordial condescension. My adult children spend their days sniping at each other out of boredom, mutual dislike and inheritance concerns. Life is one long happy hour for them. My wife and I loathe each other and openly sneer and mock one another in company. Did I mention my youngest daughter is having an affair with the husband of my eldest daughter? Despite all this, we will close ranks and refuse to cooperate to save the family reputation.

Done often in Misdsommer Murders.

I am the foggy docks appearing at the end. I look like it just rained on me. There are almost no ships, save for two old fishing kotters. You will be too late to catch your villain, as he just slipped and broke his neck on one of my soaking wet piers.

I'm the confidential records that are still, improbably, in a dusty filing cabinet in the abandoned orphanage. I will provide an important lead. I will be accompanied by something sinister like a box of teeth.

We're barristers and solicitors, 95% of whom are black women.

What is the difference between a barrister and a solicitor?

Basically, barristers are the ones you see in in gowns and wigs in courtrooms. Solicitors do back-room stuff, contracts and conveyancing.

I’m the country house gardens, needing a new landscape plan and providing a great place to stash the body.

More, please.

I'm Georgina Chapman playing a prostitute on an episode of Rosemary and Thyme from 12 years ago. I won't ever become the famous actress I so desire to be, but I will marry the ultimate ugly troll rapist creep for his money and power, and then become a fake fashion designer.

I am 'A Touch of Cloth', the Charlie Brooker 3 season show that covers all of your posts

Are you repeating yourself, R192?

I'm Josef Altin playing a chav again.

I'm the ugliest woman in all of England (no small achievement) who is inexplicably irresistible to rapey men.

I'm the British version of Miranda rights that are totally confusing.

“You do not have to say anything. But, it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence."

I'm the facial recognition software and I will find you based on a grainy partial shot of your left ear whether you have a criminal record or not. Of course, I take my time and will signal my result at the most dramatic moment possible.

I'm the lawyer main character who is usually a suspect and lives in a mansion and drives a Range Rover but who we never see working or on the job. Beard growth, rumpled, harried, and calls everyone "mate."

I'm the character actor who makes a zillion pounds a year because I've been in every British TV production since 1973.

I'm the side-boob on the terrified naked woman running through the forest.

I’m the wet, moonlit cobblestoned street. Sinister footfalls will soon be heard.

I’m the wild tone shifts and impromptu musical sequence that adds nothing.

I’m also the half-Japanese twink who provides gay panic jokes in 2020. I also add nothing.

Did I mention that I'm the young Lawrence Fox's horse cock.

I'm the backup that never gets called so the hero can approach the villain, who is preparing to killing the witness, by themselves even though they have to drive across town to do so.