Battle of the sunday night sizzlers
Last night saw ITV’s scandal-hit Downton go head-to-head with the BBC’s sexually charged The Go-Between. So which tickled our critic’s fancy?
sEx was looming large in Downton Abbey (ITV) and a dreadfully embarrassing business it was, too. We just can’t talk about That Sort Of Thing without tying ourselves in knots.
Quite right — without our British sense of shame, we’d be no better than the French.
Lady Mary (Michelle Dockery) was facing up to the price of her dirty weekend in Liverpool with a suitor who proved such a flop that she dumped him straight afterwards.
A chambermaid was blackmailing her, demanding £1,000 (about 50 grand in today’s money) not to go to the Sunday papers with evidence of shocking impropriety by an Earl’s daughter.
Since she is no virginal bride but a well-matured widow with a son, her indiscretion doesn’t seem quite the most appalling in the history of the upper classes. But for a woman as English as Mary, perhaps any sum is worth paying to avoid talking about sex.
Mrs Patmore the cook (Lesley Nicol) certainly thinks so. She couldn’t even face Mr Carson the butler (Jim Carter), let alone look him in the eye, as she attempted to find out whether he still expected all that marital how’s-yer-father at his age, or whether ‘comfortable companionship’ would be enough. And she wasn’t even the one marrying him.
Lady’s maid Anna (Joanne Froggatt) and her husband valet Mr Bates (Brendan Coyle) have been embroiled for two whole series in excruciating discussions about sex. Not only are they trying for a baby and getting nowhere, but police sergeant Willis keeps dropping by to discuss Anna’s sexual assault.
Blessed relief arrived when Willis announced the expiry of Downton’s most tasteless and ill- conceived storyline. Anna was no l onger suspected of murdering her rapist, and finally everyone could stop referring to you-know-what.
The champagne flowed in the kitchens, and even Lord Grantham (Hugh Bonneville) popped downstairs to raise a glass. Mind you, the Earl will hurdle any obstacle to get to the drinks tray these days.
In the drawing room, he was braving Carson’s displeasure by squirting soda i n his morning tumbler of whisky, and when the local hunt gathered on his lawns for a meet, he was astride his favourite hunter, knocking back brandy by the silver gobletful.
He needed a bracer. The poor chap has chewed his fingernails right down to the tweed, worrying
Downton Abbey
over money. It’s 1925, and even the lowliest of his servants expect to be paid proper wages now. Meanwhile, his neighbours are going bankrupt — and not to mention those blackmail demands.
Then his eye fell upon a possible solution. The jewelled goblets rested on a priceless, solid silver platter, antique and ornate, proffered by an under-butler.
Here was his answer — sell the under-butler! More than once in the next 90 minutes, Lord Grantham turned a beady glint on Thomas Barrow (Robert James-Collier) as the unlucky man under-butled for all he was worth. The glint declared that sacrifices had to be made, and Barrow was just the sort of sacrifice who wouldn’t be missed too much.
Down in the kitchen, Barrow tried to show what a worthy fellow he was. He gave little Lord George a piggy-back, and was falling over himself to be nice to the new footman.
But Barrow being nice is like a crocodile ordering the vegan option. No one believes him for a moment. Regrettably, banishing Barrow won’t solve the financial crisis. The era of aristocracy is ending, and even kitchenmaids are free to poke around auctions at stately homes, to see how the high-and-mighty have fallen.
It’s a shame the Earl didn’t see last week’s documentary about Longleat. He couldn’t, of course, because in early 1925 John Logie Baird had not yet given the first demonstration at Selfridge’s of his marvellous new invention, the television.
But Longleat offered the best hope for the Crawleys: they could turn their estate into a safari park. An open zoo in the grounds would solve all sorts of problems. Lord Grantham would have somewhere to keep his ferocious mother, the Dowager Countess (Maggie Smith), for a start.
Animal-loving tourists have always maintained Lord Bath in funds at Longleat, after all, even when he had dozens of wifelets on the go.
Let’s hope that Downton doesn’t go the whole Longleat hog with guest bedrooms decorated in gaudy pornographic murals. There’ll be servants dropping dead f rom sheer embarrassment.