Yes, yes I know all that, but I still can’t recall feeling this cold watching a TV programme ever. Not even Attenborough’s penguins and polar bears made me feel this cold. Dread to think what the Icelandic tourist board made of it all, but I can’t have been the only one silently swearing an oath to avoid the land of Bjork at any cost.
Mentally I was unprepared for this. Probably too many Saturday nights spent on the sofa in the sultry streets of Sicily with the young Montalbano – not literally of course, figuratively I mean. Ah Salvo…
And so to Trapped. I have to confess my knowledge of Iceland doesn’t stretch much beyond its rather tasty chicken tikka lasagne (400 grams for 99p) I know, but trust me it works, it really does. Their crinkle cut chips take some beating too.
Ok, so I know a lot about the supermarket chain and next to nothing about the country. It doesn’t make me a chav, does it?
This had something for everyone: torsos, people trafficking, complicated domestics, unsolved murders and even school bullying. It also kicked off with one of the bravest things I’ve witnessed on TV: a young maiden getting her assets out giving a whole new meaning to freezing one’s tits off. Brrrr.
When a torso is fished out of the sea, suspicion falls on the crew and passengers of a Danish ferry about to dock on the volcanic island. Enter Andri (Ólafur Darri Ólafsson) a six foot six copper in desperate need of love. But in even greater need of a razor.
Also on board the ferry is a Lithuanian people smuggler with a very weak bladder. Cunningly concealed in his happy camper van are two Nigerian migrant girls, presumably on their way to a new life in Iceland. Imagine the pitch: sub-zero temperatures and all the herring you can eat.
Crikey, if I was them I’d be demanding a refund. Iceland! Iceland! Just the place for a couple of Nigerians to melt (literally) into the landscape. Maybe they heard ‘Nice land.’
Not only does our hero have a mysterious torso to get to grips with – no easy task when its minus arms and legs – but he’s also got serious issues on the domestic front. One of these days there will come a detective serial when the protagonist is not in the midst of a marriage break-up and custody battle. Just don’t hold your breath.
Old Andri still carries a flame for his ex and has to watch the insensitive love of his life getting down and dirty with her new beau. Talk about rubbing salt in the wounds.
Well they would all share a house together. Up until Trapped I hadn’t realised that Icelanders live in extended families which include not only their parents, but ex-partners too. You learn something every day.
Touchy feely police officer taking pity on the poor refugees is pure BBC. You could almost hear the murmurs of approval emanating from Broadcasting House during negotiations with the programme's Icelandic producers: “We’ll take it! Name your price…”
I know the days are short and the nights long up Arctic way, but seriously does everybody really have to look so bloody miserable all the time? What is it with these Nordic police dramas?
More to the point, just how on earth do Icelanders manage to get their cars started first time every time? The temperature only has to threaten to reach zero in the UK and my Vauxhall goes into immediate and permanent hibernation. How do they do it?
Perhaps the biggest conundrum in Trapped is just how they’re going to stretch this out for another eight hours. Joking aside, it might just be worth tuning in next week to find out how.
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