Meep meep! That plot hole’s big enough to swal­low a road­run­ner

Daily Mail - - Television - CHRISTO­PHER STEVENS

When Wile e. Coy­ote gal­lops off a cliff in a Road­run­ner car­toon, grav­ity doesn’t take ef­fect at once. he keeps run­ning through the air, sus­pended by his own dis­be­lief.

And then the truth hits him. he turns to the cam­era and gulps. The laws of physics kick in, and he plunges. noth­ing can break his fall till he hits the canyon floor, a mile be­low.

That’s what it feels like to watch The Bay (ITV).

This six-part series, now half­way through, is an emo­tional crime thriller with a great cast, in­clud­ing Mor­ven Christie as a po­lice li­ai­son of­fi­cer dragged into the mur­der­ous se­cret lives of a sea­side town after two teenagers dis­ap­pear.

It’s a world of freez­ing seafront prom­e­nades and derelict ar­cades, where al­co­hol and drug abuse are rife. More­cambe, once fa­mous for cock­les and co­me­di­ans, is de­picted as the english equiv­a­lent of those bleak, sub-zero towns in Scandi dra­mas.

I want to love it. But like poor old Wile e., my dis­be­lief is in freefall, hurtling down through the plot holes.

The plum­met be­gan in episode one, when Christie’s copper, DS Lisa Arm­strong, de­stroyed CCTV ev­i­dence rather than con­fess to her boss that she’d had drunken sex in a pub al­ley with the teenagers’ step­dad, on the night the duo dis­ap­peared.

This made no sense. It also re­vealed Lisa as a selfish, dis­hon­est, cor­rupt po­lice of­fi­cer who for­feited all our sym­pa­thy.

Un­able to ac­cept her as the hero­ine, I can’t help find­ing fault with ev­ery other de­tail — the kind of in­con­sis­ten­cies that usu­ally pass with­out no­tice in fast- paced de­tec­tive tales.

It’s bizarre, for in­stance, that Lisa’s ju­nior, the wet-be­hind-theears DC Med Kharim (Ta­heen Mo­dak), is sent to play so­cial worker to a lo­cal woman just be­cause she can’t get out of the bath. That’s not a job for a de­tec­tive.

And I don’t un­der­stand why More­cambe folk clutch their brows and reel at the thought of a trawler­man with £8,000 to spare . . . as if eight grand in Lan­cashire was worth eight mil­lion any­where else.

how come foren­sics of­fi­cers could scrape dried blood from un­der the fin­ger­nails of a body that had been float­ing in the sea for hours? Why is a man en­ti­tled to thou­sands in com­pen­sa­tion, just be­cause he is the bi­o­log­i­cal fa­ther (longes­tranged) of a miss­ing girl?

And here’s the one that really baf­fles me: we saw DS Lisa take a car­ton of milk from the fridge, sniff it, re­coil, then pro­claim it a week out of date . . . and put it straight back on the cold shelf. Who does that?

Truth be­ing far stranger than fic­tion, it was eas­ier to be­lieve the colos­sal co­in­ci­dence on The Supervet (C4). Labrador puppy Ber­tie had a rare an­kle disease that was mak­ing him lame, and he needed a joint re­place­ment.

By an im­prob­a­ble chance, his owner Gra­ham was a con­sul­tant spe­cial­is­ing in an­kle surgery for hu­man pa­tients. he knew all the ter­mi­nol­ogy and drew as­tute com­par­isons be­tween ad­vances in an­i­mal and hu­man medicine . . . but the sight of his dog’s swollen paw made him dizzy and queasy. ‘I could never be a vet,’ he moaned.

One of the plea­sures of this long-run­ning series is the in­sight it brings to our deep re­la­tion­ships with our pets. It’s only when they are in pain or their lives are threat­ened that we can say with­out em­bar­rass­ment how much they mean to us.

Dog-lover Jo was bereft when her springer spaniel So­phie checked in for weeks of phys­io­ther­apy at the supervet prac­tice.

‘It’s like I’ve lost my shadow,’ Jo said. Any be­sot­ted pet owner can imag­ine how she felt.

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