A Few Good Men

Well, four actually, and two of them women. But boy do we need them on our front-line, standing firm. Sir Harry Pearce; the brilliant Ruth Evershed (first seen undercover singing "I can't live without you" at a typically foppish wedding of the era); Ros Myers (recruited from a loveless marriage to Robert Bathurst); plus the frankly rubbish bloke with the bad tattoos pretending to be a passable stand-in for Rupert Penry- Jones or Matthew McFadyen). I exclude Tariq because, let's face it, his name alone is a sleeper cell waiting to be written.

Our nation salutes you.

And let's spend a few seconds paying our respects to those who have already laid down their careers in our service (even if a couple did go rogue when ratings were flagging and we needed a convoluted plot-twist double-header guessing who hadn't finished haggling about their next contract)

Lisa Faulkner (who set the template), Keeley Hawes (dribble), Gemma Jones (she's a right proper duchess that one), and, of course, every old man's favourite knicker-waver Jenny Agutter. (Oh, and that old bloke who fiddled around with gadgets and has had no sexual affect on me at all over the last forty years.)

When even Primary schoolteachers are blowing us up we obviously need more than 4 people manning the CCTV cameras but we do seem to have a recruitment problem. All the kids are too busy shouting at each and getting their sister's pregnant on wall-to-wall soaps, so lack the gravitas for walking along the Embankment in a trench coat.

The oldies are either killing people in walk-on parts in Midsomer Norton or have donated what's left of their careers to a hospital in Bristol; and those in the middle are busy working in counter espionage in glossy American shows that never actually see the light of day (Anna Friel even.)

Still, here's recruitment wish-list:
Tim Roth, John Simm and James McEvoy.
Jaime Murray, Jodhi May and Louise Delamere.

Your country needs you.


Of course, when the Tories come to power and cut a swathe through public services we'll actually have to call it "in praise of...fewer good men."


Or Spook.


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