A Guardian-read­ing white mur­derer?

Midweek Sport - - FRONT PAGE -

DARK times on Coro­na­tion Street, where Kirsty ap­pears to be suf­fer­ing post-na­tal de­pres­sion – a ter­ri­ble con­di­tion which af­fects 10% of new mums.

And 100% of new mums who live in soap op­eras.

Luck­ily there was light re­lief in the blos­som­ing re­la­tion­ship be­tween Beth and Kirk, aka “Berk”.

“Mmmm, you smell bet­ter than a pie,” Kirk told Beth, which counts as sexy talk up North. Their idea of a saucy book is 50 Shades Of Gravy.

Then there is Julie blether­ing on about re­dec­o­rat­ing the mas­ter bed­room. She wants a flock against the wall – but I sus­pect hubby Brian would put his back out. C4 dat­ing show Bag­gage is based around suit­cases – and is a load of Sam­son­shite. Re­mem­ber that last year when de­cided ITV1’s crime drama

was RACIST for fail­ing to rep­re­sent all those black and Asian farm­ers who pop­u­late ru­ral Bri­tain?

Well last night’s ap­peared to be mak­ing up for lost time.

Firstly there was a British In­dian fam­ily, with a hard­work­ing dad who ran a shop and his maths whizz teenage daugh­ter ( right).

Phew! For a minute I was wor­ried they might start deal­ing in stereo­types.

Then there was a sug­ges­tion of il­le­gal aliens in town. Not the ones who cram into lor­ries at Calais but those who beam down from dis­tant plan­ets. More UFO than HGV. Brown AND green peo­ple in the same episode? They were re­ally push­ing the multi-cul­tural boat out.

The plot saw mem­bers of the vil­lage As­tron­omy So­ci­ety bumped off in a va­ri­ety of cos­mic ways – blud­geoned with a me­te­orite dur­ing


episode a so­lar eclipse, gar­rot­ted with a sharp­ened moon­dial while star gaz­ing, etc. It was like a snuff movie di­rected by Patrick Moore.

As usual, there was any num­ber of key sus­pects, from those lit­tle green men to the ar­ro­gant ob­ser­va­tory boss to the news­pa­per as­trologer who claimed to have pre­dicted the deaths – but she turned out to be talk­ing through Uranus. Even the In­dian dad be­came prime sus­pect for a while, ap­par­ently sent into a mur­der­ous rage at dis­cov­er­ing his beloved daugh­ter, Ga­gan, was sex­u­ally ac­tive. In fact, she’s Ga­gan for it.

Clearly, that was a red her­ring.

Pin­ning a murder rap on the first brown face in town would have been sooooo RACIST, ob­vi­ously.

In fact the cul­prit was the least likely mur­derer of the lot.

It was the lib­eral and laid­back univer­sity tu­tor who cared deeply about ed­u­ca­tion and the en­vi­ron­ment.

In other words, the mur­derer was the only bloke in Mid­somer who would buy The Guardian.

Ah, re­venge is sweet.

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