Channel 4 kept itself busy by snapping up Sherlock creator Steven Moffat’s Number 10, a drama set in what its makers dub “the only terrace house in history with mice and a nuclear deterrent”.
Let the record show, however, that Suranne Jones got there first with Hostage (Netflix). There have been Downing Street thrillers before Netflix’s latest, and there will be more after, starting with Moffat’s, but Hostage set the bonkers bar impressively high. Only if someone wrote a five-part drama about the Truss premiership could a tale be more barking.
Jones played British Prime Minister Abigail Dalton. The Dalton government was being battered by crises, chief among them a shortage of cancer drugs. As if that was not enough, the French president was dropping by to tell Dalton off for being soft on migrants.
Madame President was played, rather magnificently, by Julie Delpy, bona fide French cinema goddess/writer/director. What a hoot to see her character waft into Downing Street, a right winger ready to do battle with Dalton’s seemingly soppy liberal.
Created and written by Matt Charman (Bridge of Spies), it is almost impossible to say any more about the plot of Hostage because the series relies so heavily on killer twists and handbrake turns. I’m convinced Netflix and the other streamers have secret labs somewhere churning out plot surprises, the crazier the better, and there are some doozies here. Best to consider the title a clue and take it from there.
With all the high octane mayhem going on, Hostage required extra ballast. Lending Jones and Delpy a hand were James Cosmo as the Prime Minister’s dad (complete with a north of England accent to match his screen daughter), Lucian Msamati (Conclave, Gangs of London) as her chief of staff, and Ashley Thomas as her doctor husband.
There were rough edges, a few things not quite passing muster. For a start, the Downing Street in Hostage had the smallest press pack I’ve ever seen. They looked more like a bus queue than a posse of reporters. Some of the dialogue sounded like a beginner guide to British politics.
What a distance Jones, an executive producer on Hostage, has come since playing one of Steve McDonald’s many wives in Coronation Street. Doctor Foster made her a small screen A-lister and from then on she had her pick of parts. Not everything has gone her way – HBO fell out of love with period drama Gentleman Jack – but the successes, including the Scotland-set police thriller Vigil – have kept coming.
Now she’s an industry player in her own right, her name enough to carry a series, nationally and internationally. Real-life Prime Ministers should watch and learn.
Now, do you remember “The Chair”?
One evening last month, in what was the broadcast news equivalent of a Stephen King horror movie, viewers tuning in for Scotland Tonight were met with the sight of an empty studio, and an equally unoccupied chair. Into what troubled waters had this Marie Celeste sailed?
It was a bone-chilling sight – well, it was if you were the producer on duty. The flippant among us grabbed the popcorn and watched on as frantic efforts were made to resume normal service. They say the presenter’s ghost still walks the ramparts of STV HQ at night, sobbing.
Viewers do love a television blooper, and you can bet John MacKay’s favourite tie that The Chair is heading for the next episode of It’ll Be Alright On the Night.
So well done STV for putting that awful experience to one side and launching new studio sets for STV News in Glasgow and Aberdeen.
The revamp comes at a time when STV in general is repositioning itself for a groovy new future, complete with a radio station aimed at the 35-54 market. Consider the makeover of STV News, including the flagship News at Six, still Scotland’s most watched news show, as the equivalent of mum getting Botox and dad having his nose hairs trimmed.
Not that those splashing the cash would describe it as such. The press release spoke of “dynamic video walls” to “enhance storytelling and allow greater flexibility for presenters to move around the space”.
Why are television news producers obsessed with moving presenters around? We’ve all known since Angela Rippon high- kicked her way out of a desk on Morecambe and Wise that presenters had legs.
More space means reporters can now join the presenters on set to “casually” chat through stories. Normally scruffy correspondents will have to up their shoe game now feet are likely to be in shot. So no more Garfield slippers for Colin Mackay when he makes the trip through from Holyrood.
Why change a winning formula, you might ask? The reason is largely technical. You might sit down with your tea at 6pm to watch the news, but others are catching up on their phones and iPads when it suits. The new set should look better on Instagram, TikTok and other digital platforms.
Plus, the Scottish Parliament elections take place next year, and STV will be competing with the tech bros at Sky and the BBC for the whizziest graphics.
And finally, as they say, it’s nice to have a refresh now and again.
In the event, everything was all right on the night. With their new clothes and haircuts, the lads and lassies looked like weans on their first day at school. No one was bold enough to do the walking-talking thing yet, though Raman the sports guy did some nifty pivots between anchor Kelly-Ann Woodland and the camera.
Overall it was lighter, brighter, and sharper with best of all a big new map for Sean the weatherman. Just a pity the news didn’t match the sunnier outlook, with the usual mayhem and bams on the menu.
The Traitors, Love Island, I’m a Celebrity, Race Across the World – the nominations for best reality competition in the National Television Awards show what newcomers are up against.
007: Road to a Million (Amazon Prime Video) , now on its second series, had a double whammy of Brian Cox as a presenter and the Bond brand to draw upon as USPs, but were they enough?
Not in the first series, judging by the tweaks that have been made to the format. It’s now more of a battle, with teams competing against each other rather than as individuals. Adding to the jeopardy, each round ends with one pair being sent home.
The pairs range from siblings and best friends to married couples and father and son. And what do pairs mean? No, not prizes. Pairs mean more chance of bickering, the lifeblood of any reality competition (except for the always nice folk on Race Across the World).
The contestant pickers have done their job well, bringing together a good mix of personalities and skills.
Sid, a ticket inspector with London Underground (“I’m undercover a lot”), and wife Shabina were the comedy gold in the first episode, with her spurring him on and him living down to her expectations. Shabina had her own theories on how to motivate people. “You know what, just get over it,” she said to her husband, a nervous swimmer.
Another contestant was so full of himself he could have wandered in from The Apprentice. “You will listen, I will instruct,” he told his other half. The bark is worse than the bite, I’m sure.
This being a reality show, everyone had a back story. One chap is living with a life-changing injury, another has autism. And of course there were various phobias to deal with, a fear of heights chief among them.
First stop on the itinerary was Thailand, where contestants plucked a hard drive from a tank full of scorpions (venomous we were told), while another lot had to climb towers 600 ft above street level to reset an internet connection (and you thought you had problems with wi-fi).
Keeping things ticking over from London was “The Controller”, played by Brian Cox. Like fellow Scot David Tennant on Genius Game, Cox monitors the game from a distance, beaming in now and then to chivvy contestants along and justify whatever the programme makers are paying him.
Nice work if you can get it, though I don’t think Tennant will be reprising his role given Genius Game flopped for being too difficult. I don’t see that being a problem with 007: Road to a Million. If they carry on splashing the cash and doubling down on the Bond references, Cox might be leading the charge in the 2026 NTAs.