Where is Harry Hill when you need him with his TV Burp? Firstly, Dr Who. If it was not bad enough in Flesh and Stone being a throwback to the 1970s/80s when The Doctor pressed against a supposedly metal wall and it did its best impression of bending like plywood, but further on, we witnessed the dangers of not filming episodes in sequential order. Late in the drama, The Doctor loses his distinctive tweed, brown jacket. But at one point in a close-up and then another close-up and then a further close-up, although it is visible only in the corner, his jacket forms a considerable part of that corner. When the action resumes, hey presto, his blazer has disappeared again. Continuity errors bring one back to the surface after being immersed in the drama. The Vampires of Venice avoided anything too obviously askew, but one of the male villains pretending to be a Venetian was given the name Francesca. One doesn’t need to be Italian to recognise that is a woman’s designation; it is the suffix ‘-a’, for a man would be Francesco as ‘-o’.
Luther is ridiculous, despite a performance so towering from Idris Elba that it could glance at the Burj Khalifa without feeling inadequate. Aside from murders being pretty rare in Europe making it hard for a detective series to remain credible – productions like Poirot can be conceived as stand-alone stories in themselves – what is it with BBC cop dramas of recent years operating in a London that is like it has stumbled onto a set for 28 Days Later. The bridge scene at the end of episode one was unbelievably deserted for somewhere in central London, with nary a passer-by or vehicle. You may have the budget to close off a bridge over the Thames, but it could be at least populated with some extras. Probably mulling over this, the writers reprised the bridge scene following the conclusion of episode two and then at the very, very end had an artic rumble along – laughable partly because it rams home how artificial it all is, partly because you can see the production crew, director and so forth, all ready to let this lorry rip and none can see that the emperor has no clothes.

Oh and we have a new British prime minister. Congratulations David Cameron, who, like Tony Blair and barring any swift elections will have a child born in the purple (and I’m not talking about Sam Cam’s dresses here. Well done too, to the Lib Dems for the first taste of power in nearly 70 years. I just hope electoral reform with at least AV Plus on the referendum is to be followed through.