House of the Dragon series 2 review: "Regrettably, my mind wanders. Mention of King’s Landing makes me think of Knots Landing"

Matt Smith and Emma D'Arcy in House of the Dragon

Thronies are of course devotees of Game of Thrones - you can study the show at university now, although this may be typical of the “Mickey Mouse degrees” that Rishi Sunak wants scrapped - and House of the Dragon is the prequel. Medieval fantasy epics have never been my cup of hippocras - and, yes, a check on popular drinks from the period was required - but when I did catch a few minutes of GoT they were rarely ponderous. HotD plods. There’s a scene where a mighty but neglected sailing ship is being readied for recommissioning and I’m wondering if we’re going to have to watch the barnacles being removed, one by one.

The GoT world may not be my go-to, but I am not squeamish about decapitations or death by crossbow while perched on the loo. Where is the humour because there seemed to be plenty in the parent show. And where oh where are the orgies? I’m sorry, but council meetings are no substitute for them.

I know, I know, I’m trivialising one of the all-time great telly spectaculars, or the son of … at any rate, but it’s difficult coming cold to something this wordy and complex and cast-of-thousandy - though respect to the devotees who like it that way, priding themselves on instant recall of who did what to whom and with how many incisions.

Irene Arcos in You Shall Not Lie

Regrettably, my mind wanders. Mention of King’s Landing makes me think of Knots Landing (not that demented; I’ve seen GoT described as “Dallas with dragons”). The method of selection for a noble but hazardous mission - a black stone pulled from a pouch where the rest are white - makes me think of Quality Street and the dreaded Orange Chocolate Crunch. And here’s Matt Smith playing Daemon Taryagen but looking awfully like William Hartnell as Doctor Who.

I’m guessing that House of the Dragon will hot up. Certainly Alicent (Olivia Cooke) gets to enjoy a mid-morning orgasm, seemingly one of the duties of her security detail, but then she’s quickly at the long table for yet another council meeting.

The very first words in HotD are: “Duty is sacrifice. It eclipses all things.” They do not apply to the very first minutes of The Cops as a rookie WPC goes straight from snorting coke in a nightclub to her early morning shift, remembering to remove her belly and nose rings in the taxi.

I don’t normally include repeats in these scribblings as there’s always so much new stuff, only not this week because of the Euros and the election. There’s another reason I’m mentioning the drama: it’s rarely been seen since ending in 2001, the unflinchingly provocative portrayal of force life upsetting real police so much they withdrew from their role as advisers. There’s a third reason: it’s fantastic.

Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen checks out some Outrageous Homes

How did I miss it first-time round? It deployed the same wobbly-camera, verite style as This Life. Also around back then: Brass Eye, The Royle Family, the first sightings of Ricky Gervais on The Eleven O’Clock Show and from Scotland, Trainspotting’s even more radgey wee brother, Looking After JoJo. So a hugely significant period in our telly history and The Cops was part of it.

These officers certainly play hard, sometimes to their sandpaper-mouthed surprise waking up in the same bed as each other. Do they work hard? Well, corners are cut, toerags are beaten up and notebooks are re-written. Old-school, they’re resisting a new “client-responsive, intelligence-led proactive approach” to policing. No wonder it was so contentious. But this crew are visible. They get out there and investigate minor theft. A period piece, for sure.

You Shall Not Lie is a drama about a schoolteacher who has an affair with one of her students. Once or twice you will think it odd and probably say to yourself: “Ah, that must be how they do things in Spain.” Actually, more than once or twice, and like a meal of tapas, you’ll keep going, almost despite yourself, in the hope of reaching a satisfying conclusion.

The action opens with the school, which serves swanky seaside homes, being informed of the death of one of the kids and we are to presume this is the boy from the scandal and, judging by the speed at which she removes herself from flamenco practice, that his tutor is somehow involved.

This is Macarena - limpid eyes beneath a Francoise Hardy fringe - played by Irene Arcos who’s oddly unflustered by footage of the fornication pinging onto everyone’s phones. Her husband - who looks like Kevin Godley from 10cc - is oddly calm as he throws her out of the house. The mother of the boy is oddly not hysterical. The boy’s girlfriend is hysterical to the extent of scaring the horses (she’s actually in stables at the time).

Then there are the reactions of the other women. The chair of the PTA who watched the clip all the way to the end, the admission coming as she’s operating a squirty cream dispenser. And the detective who’s shown the boy’s diary and squeals: “It’s a page-turner!”

There are moments when you think you’re watching a sex comedy but maybe in Spain murder mysteries are really sex comedies underneath. Whatever, I’m oddly intrigued, if only to find out if Kevin Godley will channel his heartache into a follow-up to “I’m Not in Love”.

“Are you suffering from delusions of blandeur, filling your home with shades of greige just like everybody else?” So begins Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen’s new show, a nosey inside some ostentatiously over-the-top gaffes, beginning with “Britain’s answer to the Playboy Mansion”.

This one, in Stratford-upon-Avon, certainly fits the bill of Outrageous Homes, to the extent the owners seem completely overawed by it. The nautical - nay, ye hearties, piratical - theme was dreamed up by the previous occupant, Felix Dennis, the late publisher, poet and party animal. It’s ghastly and, admits Dawn, the whopping great pool in the middle and the 17 ton aquarium are “wasted on us”. She and husband Derek obviously feel like they’re clapped in irons.