ROGER MOORE tours famous back projection blue screens of the world.
A SUPERLATIVE anthology of hour-long suspenseful playlets about well-tailored middle class types methodically doing each other in, THRILLER was a textbook example...
THE gentle swish of a watercolour paintbrush, the chiming tinkle of an endlessly hummable signature tune
TEA-AND-SLIPPERS SLEUTHERY, best taken over doilies and Darjeeling, if not Lucozade and egg soldiers.
EVER-RELIABLE COURTROOM sparring from JOHN MORTIMER
NOT TO be confused with THE PERSUADERS, THE PURSUERS or, indeed, THE PROTECTORS
TWO "HILARIOUSLY" (hence the exclamation mark) mismatched crimefighters
PART OF London Weekend Television's late eighties foray into upmarket drama
THROUGH THE CLOUDS, a shape appears.
BULLMAN AND DIRTY DEN - together at last!
FROM BEHIND an oil tanker-sized desk, from within a imperially-dark blue set
SPRIGHTLY SPINSTER gets invited to a weekend in the country
GEORGE COLE aka Arthur Daley (sheepskin coat, cigar, hat, jewellery, 'er indoors, "nice little earner", "world is your lobster, my son") and...
SOUTHFORK MAY have been Wogan's favourite Wednesday night residence, but this was his Friday evening fancy and no mistake.
DEFINITIVE SMALL-SCREEN sleuthathon saddling JEREMY BRETT, for good or ill (the latter, as it turned out) with the role of a lifetime.
RAGGED STUDIO-BOUND videotape romp through the turn of the century life of the titular royal-bedding ragamuffin
NEITHER YOUR gung-ho RICHARD GREENE nonsense nor your mystical MICHAEL PRAED codswallop
Blatant porn dressed up as mystical quackery.
ON-ITS-LAST-LEGS FINAL throw of the dice for the fine folk at Hammer.