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Oh God. 15 minutes in and I'm not sure I'm going to be able to continue.
The fuck!
No, no, fucking no!
England.
Starts off in Oxford. *eye roll* And then moves to London. Because they're the only two places in England. *snerk*
There's the English equivalent of Bones and Booth. Only the forensic anthropologist's a male Oxford don. *rolls eyes again* And the incredibly unrealistic upper-class Met police inspector (who's from Scotland Yard, even though they drag the body out of the Thames, right by the Houses of Parliament *yet another eye roll* and therefore it's the jurisdiction of the Thames River Police) is a woman. Not sayiing there aren't upper-class police inspectors. Just that they're rarer than a nice guy on the trading room floor...
Oh, and the body turns out to be that ofs an American heiress, so naturally Booth and Brennan are asked to become involved. Booth whines about not having a gun so female Inspector says she'll get him one!
I don't bloody well think so. No. Fucking. Way!
Turns out American heiress was going out with a Lord Henry. Who's the heir to a dukedom. *eyes roll even more wildly*
Have got to the point where Booth is driving - on the wrong side of the road - through the City, just past Bank, in an old-style red mini. That probably wouldn't be even on the road now, let alone hired out by a hire car company. And he's just gone through a red light and then when he's almost caused an accident is having a temper tantrum. Oh, and the Inspector has just said how she's looking forward to Booth and Brennan grilling the Royal Family. *eyes roll right out of head now*
It's so egregiously wrong, bad and cliched that words fail me.
Despite the ridiculous end to Season 3, I really like Bones dammit. But so far the 15 minutes I've watched of this episode has been some of the most cringe-making TV ever.
The fuck!
No, no, fucking no!
England.
Starts off in Oxford. *eye roll* And then moves to London. Because they're the only two places in England. *snerk*
There's the English equivalent of Bones and Booth. Only the forensic anthropologist's a male Oxford don. *rolls eyes again* And the incredibly unrealistic upper-class Met police inspector (who's from Scotland Yard, even though they drag the body out of the Thames, right by the Houses of Parliament *yet another eye roll* and therefore it's the jurisdiction of the Thames River Police) is a woman. Not sayiing there aren't upper-class police inspectors. Just that they're rarer than a nice guy on the trading room floor...
Oh, and the body turns out to be that ofs an American heiress, so naturally Booth and Brennan are asked to become involved. Booth whines about not having a gun so female Inspector says she'll get him one!
I don't bloody well think so. No. Fucking. Way!
Turns out American heiress was going out with a Lord Henry. Who's the heir to a dukedom. *eyes roll even more wildly*
Have got to the point where Booth is driving - on the wrong side of the road - through the City, just past Bank, in an old-style red mini. That probably wouldn't be even on the road now, let alone hired out by a hire car company. And he's just gone through a red light and then when he's almost caused an accident is having a temper tantrum. Oh, and the Inspector has just said how she's looking forward to Booth and Brennan grilling the Royal Family. *eyes roll right out of head now*
It's so egregiously wrong, bad and cliched that words fail me.
Despite the ridiculous end to Season 3, I really like Bones dammit. But so far the 15 minutes I've watched of this episode has been some of the most cringe-making TV ever.
no subject
Date: 5 September 2008 19:10 (UTC)no subject
Date: 5 September 2008 19:26 (UTC)no subject
Date: 5 September 2008 19:25 (UTC)It wasn't even that they were so completely - and stupidly - upper class (because of course that's the only way that anyone could achieve success in either an academic career or in the police force). It was overly arch little asides to each other.
Dear America,
Yes, one of our most famous detectives is Miss Marple but there's a reason it's period. We're no longer stuck in the 1930s to the 1950s, thank you very much.
Besides. You've got Jessica Fletcher so you don't have a leg to stand on, and I don't see anyone as charicatured as her appearing in Bones.
No love
Me.
That episode made me cringe even more than Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins. And that's saying something.
no subject
Date: 5 September 2008 19:31 (UTC)After that, I think I will have to watch in very small instalments, over a period of several days. For the sake of my blood pressure and only because I'm the type of person who has has to know what happens next.
no subject
Date: 5 September 2008 20:35 (UTC)Gods I can't go near them! I always scream "you're doing it wrong!" and throw things at the TV
Why would they get involved? And get them a gun? YEAH RIGHT
Heir to a DUKEDOM? Yeah because we have LOADS of them. Gods the very idea hurts. Didn't they do even 2 seconds of research
I hate it when americans design programmes set in britain, they get it sooo wrong
no subject
Date: 5 September 2008 21:16 (UTC)I watch Bones for the characters and can (usually) overlook the absurdities. The episode set in England is insultingly bad, however.
and my first reply disappeared, so this is Take 2
Date: 6 September 2008 06:50 (UTC)I have nothing further to say. Really, what IS there to say? Except possibly to observe that apparently professional screen writers don't employ Brit-pick betas as conscientiously as fanficcers.
no subject
Date: 17 March 2010 17:21 (UTC)