Murder mysteries have come a long way since the days of Miss Marple and Ellery Queen, haven't they?
Right after dinner tonight, while the boy did the dishes (a small miracle, but one I won't question in case he takes it the wrong way and never offers again), I kept the TV on and watched Bones.
To be honest, I tend to shy away from shows about murder these days. For one thing, the victims always seem to be female, and I'm not really entertained by constantly exposure to stories about men killing women. The other thing is that most of the shows are called CSI: something. It's like walking into a clothing shop and seeing nothing but black crew-necked t-shirts with stupid quotes on them.
The only reason I decided to watch Bones is because David Boreanz is in it. (And the only reason I watched an episode of Kitchen Confidential was because Nicholas Brendan is in it. It wasn't worth it.)
Yes, there were yucky bits (i.e. close-ups of a partially-decayed female corpse plus foetus) and yes there were forensics geeks aplenty. But the story was quite compelling and the main character is...well, such a character. She's like X-files' Dana Scully crossed with Buffy's Anya, minus the sexual tension of the former and the money-philia of the latter.
Trouble is, I'm not sure I'm going to get any sleep now that I've got murderous foetus-stealing mums on the brain.