The Old Bill closes in on bad boy Phil
"YOU know what they say," said DCI Marsden, Phil Mitchell's own personal policewoman, "when you commit a crime you can overlook a hundred things. If you can think of just five you're a criminal mastermind."
That must be why I never got away with that overdue library book.
"Somewhere, Phil," continued Marsden, a sort of East End Columbo only with a slightly worse coat, "there'll be something, because you're not that smart." A bit of a slur. Yes, Phil might not have squeezed his adequate backside into the Mastermind chair but what he doesn't know about shallow grave construction isn't worth knowing about.
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"I'm going to find it," said Marsden, not the most intimidating woman – an interrogation by her is like being mauled by a goat.
"And when I do I'm going to take the Mitchells apart one by one."
I'm no legal expert, Ms Marsden, but I've an idea dismembering suspects was recently banned by the European Court of Human Rights.
Phil didn't take this lying down. "I think you need to stop using me to make yourself look good," he told the sleuth. "What's the matter? Not hitting your targets? Clear-up rate dropping? Brighter kids coming up behind you." Possibly, although such bright sparks will always be offset by Reg Hollis from The Bill. But Marsden wasn't finished yet. "I know plenty who'd want to fill your shoes," she told the bald-headed bruiser, "hard men with fingers in all sorts of pies." But enough of Ed Miliband.
"A bit of an empire, respect, and just that little bit of fear, that's how it works isn't it?" No, love, that's News International.
"Then one day you wake up and there's just that little less respect, a little less fear, you're over the hill, everyone knows it. They can smell it on you."
And there was Shirley thinking it was BO.
"How's that empire looking now?" taunted Marsden. "Not quite the big man you used to be are you?" True, his gut used to be twice the size.
"Your empire's getting smaller and you're getting weaker. And here at home, look at you, you're all alone." It was a low blow. It breaks your heart to see Phil without Shirley, spending his nights alone on the sofa with a tub of Häagen-Dazs and a Cold Feet boxset.
But Marsden could sink lower yet. "And Ben," she continued, "he's a train wreck." A little unfair. Most train crashes aren't quite so disturbing.
On a brighter note, The Argee Bhajee had reopened with an "all you can eat buffet". Phil didn't attend. The mood he was in he could have committed first degree murder with a naan bread.