My inadvertent Peteython continues, with the very lovely Albert Campion Goes To A Country House And Is Fey. Cut-price Wimsey he may be, he's still completely fab, and has all the soothing powers of Black Orchid.



Look, he has a balloon. Bless.


"Conceal yourself behind my fashionable profile."


Aww, a chap and his manservant. I'd forgotten how bloody brilliant Lugg is: makes Bunter look a bit of a girly wet.


"This is a gun, and as soon as I've read the instruction leaflet, I won't hesitate to use it."


LOOK! LOOK! IT'S ONLY GORDON JACKSON!


Campion gets chased by Frank the Big Evil Bunny.


Campion is not terribly happy about this.


The obligatory Moment of Intense Campery.


MORE GORDON! WOO! (And sexy wounds too: jolly good.)


Tie-fiddling. Bits of straw sticking out of clothing. Nuff said.


Another bloody cricket jumper.


And a random cap to prove how bloody gorgeous the whole thing looks. All on film, and just beautifully shot, with lovely lovely costumes, and architecture porn, and just the right amount of amusing yokels etc to keep the thing zipping along.




Still feel like shite, but now I feel like 1930s shite with hats on. Think I might read some Allingham: have only read The Crime at Black Dudley, which I thought was arse, but I'm told the others are considerably better.

*pokes Screenselect and demands more BBC mystery fun*