Minder
Channel 5
Cutting Edge: Killer In A Small Town
Channel 4
THE best way of watching the re-invented Minder is not to compare it too much with the original series. It might have been wiser not to saddle it with baggage from the past, but to give it a chance on its own merits for a different generation. However, there is probably something in clarifying the context of both versions. Old Minder was broadcast throughout the Margaret Thatcher years when entrepreneurs were encouraged and a certain amount of cheeky-chappie roguishness was tolerated. George Cole’s wheeler-dealing Arthur Daley fitted into this scenario perfectly. The new Minder, in Gordon Brown’s Britain and Boris Johnson’s London, is still a light-hearted romp, but set against a grimmer economic climate and a more uncertain world. While it works as a nod to the original idea, it comes across as a flimsy and ultimately implausible “Carry on rascals”, with a touch of diluted Hustle thrown in. It feels old-fashioned and out of place. But, as they say in business circles – seedy or otherwise – we are where we are.
Shane Richie plays sharp-suited Archie Daley (Arthur’s nephew) with all that we would expect of him – not a talent more, not a talent less. Lex Shrapnel as the eponymous minder is as bland and physical as his character demands. The third star, landmark London scenery, does a great job. All around them, we see stereotypical villains and cartoon police people.
The plot of the first episode was a stale, uninspiring tale of corrupt businessmen and a dodgy local politician wanting to acquire a pub by fair means or foul, then demolish it in order to make way for a major property development. It passed an hour and was, at best, harmless television. In the long run – if there is to be one –this series will take a lot more ducking and diving, bobbing and weaving to get beyond one season.
From light comedy crime to real-life serial homicide is not a comfortable leap. Cutting Edge presented a documentary, Killer in a Small Town, on the murder of five prostitutes in Suffolk in 2006. They were the victims in the fastest serial killing spree in British criminal history – five bodies in 10 days. The programme opened with Jade, who talked candidly about life on the streets, the existence of an underground life in every city in Britain and the vulnerability of every woman who chooses or is forced to earn money from commercial sex – inevitably to fund a drug habit. Her clarity and articulation were stark, shocking and real. Tom, the brother of one of the dead girls, described the infestation of a once “nice little town” by crack cocaine dealers. His account was highly emotional, giving a real sense of a family left distraught by the loss of a loved one.
The victims were human beings first, prostitutes second and then murder victims. According to some, the human factor seemed to have been blurred, distorted and devalued by sections of the public and the media because the dead girls were engaged in a profession to look down on – a job to disparage and a life easy to ridicule. “Nobody cared when they were alive”, said Tom, when reflecting on the intensity of the nation’s focus on the crime stories. A man called Steve Wright was convicted, identified by DNA and other evidence. He has not explained his actions and was shown in all his “no comment” stubbornness when questioned by police officers.
The chilling thought is that, while the programme was being broadcast, many working girls were out on risky streets, driven by their own reasons, circumstances and needs to try to pick up business and hoping that all their next punter wanted was sex rather than an opportunity to murder.
Jade’s story of how she threw her crack pipe into the river as symbolic of her decision to live a cleaner, safer life was the most uplifting event in an otherwise well-produced but very grim documentary.
Joe Cushnan
