TV Review: Murderland – ITV1

Murderland ITV1

ROBBIE Coltrane makes for an unlikely copper. Even rounder than Frank Cannon, possibly only Heartbeat's Alf Ventress would be more useless in chasing an offender.

And yet, he's wholly believable in the role – oozing the kind of reassuring presence thinner officers, such as Reg Hollis, can only dream of.

Murderland, not to be confused with the new theme park opening shortly in Midsomer Norton, began with him burying his dog – and it got less cheerful from there.

On her wedding day, and feeling her absence more than ever, Carol had been transported back 15 years to the day she'd come home from a party to find her mum murdered in the living room.

She'd been trapped in the mental territory of Murderland ever since. Now she'd reached the realisation that living in this dark and troubled world was no longer an option.

"The memories won't stop," she said, "but, if I look hard enough, they can tell me what really happened."

And it seemed Coltrane, aka Detective Inspector Douglas Hain, was the one with all the answers.

Hain, a typically unorthodox Coltrane character, had been in charge of the investigation, sniffing round a crime scene notable mainly for the early Take That posters on the walls; Robbie Williams may yet be called as a witness.

To the annoyance of the child protection officer, who believed Carrie, as Carol was then known, was becoming "crime obsessive", Hain had allowed her to follow his every move, to the extent she was almost part of the investigating team.

And there were plenty of suspicious characters – a creepy bloke with a camera, a lecherous partygoer, a bloke with a bleeding hand.

Blimey, it was like an episode of Scooby-Doo. Except, in the end, the only person unmasked was Hain himself.

In the awful circumstances, he'd become, to all extents and purposes, the dad Carol had lost as a little girl.

"I want to stay with you," she told him. "I might remember more stuff. I wouldn't be much trouble."

Thing is, it seemed there was something Hain didn't want Carol to remember – the design of the prime suspect's unusual shoes on the night of the murder.

For there, among her numerous cuttings, was a picture of Hain stepping out of a car at a corruption hearing in the very same pair of brogues.

In classic thriller style, she ran for the phone box, desperately punching the numbers into the dial to reach a rescuer.

But then, there he was, big Robbie, dragging her out before she could squeal.

Ventress would have never made it in time.