The Third Floor Flat: episode overview

Ready for a new episode overview? Time for The Third Floor Flat!  (Reminder: my particular “reviews” aren’t comprehensive– others have covered that ground. They deal with my own particular impressions, curiosities, and book-to-script thoughts.) SPOILERS for everything, as always.  🙂

Things I Loved:

-Because the episode focuses on the flats, I LOVE that we get to zip through Whitehaven Mansions, the elevator escapades, the cool railings and stairwells, the coal lift, the basement, and so on. Even if it’s not really Florin Court. 🙂

-Poirot’s sneezes are hilarious. 😀 In general, hypochondriac Poirot is great. In the book, Poirot invents an excuse about having a head cold to explain why he can’t sniff at the bottle he finds, so he asks Donavon to do so. Very clever for the scriptwriter to actually give Poirot a cold for the sake of the storyline.

-I like the idea (not in the original Christie) that Mrs Grant moved into the flats where her rival lived to deliberately to taunt her husband Donavon. An added advantage is that it gives a plausible explanation to the book’s description of the flat being over-full of furniture and other items.

-Showing the delivery of the note by Mrs Grant to Pat’s flat. We learn in the book that a note was sent to Pat, who assumed the woman just wanted to complain about the piano or something. Not only is Pat blasting music in her flat, but she’s dancing with her friend Mildred, which is a good explanation for why Mrs Grant doesn’t just charge in right away and ask to speak with Pat then and there.

-Poirot’s reminiscences of an old flame upon seeing Pat is actually alluded to three times! “If I were your age, monsieur, without doubt I too would be in love with her.” That’s a pretty revealing statement for Poirot, and brings his love interests in the series up to, what, three? As I note in this other blog post, it is, I believe, about the first example in the series of Poirot’s wistfulness at his own missed opportunities in personal relationships.

-There are few moments of deliciously creepy irony in the episode, such as Mrs Grant’s body being covered by the curtain (the play they all had gone to see was “The Deadly Shroud”), and the contrast of the discovery of the murder with Pat and Mildred’s singing.

-“I suppose you’re inured to this sort of thing, M. Poirot?” “No, no, no, on the contrary, I think it [that is, the omelette] is very nice.” A humorous intro to Poirot’s love of omelettes.

-EVERYTHING relating to the play is gold.  🙂  “How could a stage play compare to the real-life cases of Hercule Poirot?” The humor in Poirot not solving the case because “the writer is an imbecile!” was hilarious, and gives him something to talk about with the young people back in Pat’s flat. The fact that he mentions the denouement of the idiot police inspector just as Japp is entering and overhearing the conversation is brilliant! The bad acting in the play is pretty funny. And from what we can glean about the plot of “The Deadly Shroud,” Poirot actually seems to be correct in that the culprit (the daughter-in-law) doesn’t make sense as the murderer. That is probably its own in-depth blog post, but have a close watch of those scenes and see if the motive, lines of inheritance, etc. make any sense to you!

-That sort of innocent, pleading exchange between Poirot and Japp when the former asks to search 36B is funny and reminiscent of Four and Twenty Blackbirds, when Poirot is trying to wheedle a contact out of Japp so he can follow up a line of investigation. Japp grudgingly gives in after some sweet talking. Philip Jackson is SO GOOD.

-I just finally noticed that the metal contraption that Donavon plows Hastings’ car into is actually the little stand across from the flats where the old woman was selling teas and things (the workman from the moving crew shouts for her to get some tea ready as they were almost done in the opening scene). A nice little detail to tie the ends of the story together, although it seems a bit unusual that the stand was just closing up for the day well after 11 at night…

-Poirot’s matchmaking trait– the first we see in this series, but repeated very many times at the end of several episodes.

Things I Didn’t Love:

-“Birds do not run”? Poirot must be quite ill to be making silly statements like that.  😉


-In the episode, unlike the book, Donavon isn’t making any of the suggestions about fire escapes and service lifts to try to get someone else to suggest the coal lift (which is what he wants); others do. It would make more sense to me if he were the one subtly angling towards that point.

-No commentary is given for the block capitals of “John Frazer’s” note and why Poirot finds that suspicious.

-Poirot suggests that bulb might have been replaced between the time they tried it and came back? Someone would have to be awfully speedy and sneaky about that…

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Things That Confused Me:

-Hastings offers Poirot a whiskey during the intermission, which I think is unique in the series. At other times he seems to have a much better knowledge of what Poirot wants for refreshment (compare Spanish Chest and the opera).

-The maid happened to be out between 5 and 10 on her night off. Coincidence, or did Donavon know somehow?

-Dynamics between young people could be stronger, although Pat and Mildred are very convincing as friends. But where did Mildred disappear to in the second part of the episode, anyway…?

-Also, if Pat is “Poirot’s type,” how do we reconcile this with Countess Rossakoff? She seems diametrically different.

-Why did Donavon go back into 36B to retrieve the letter that Poirot had taken out of his pocket? Why would he have hoped to find it back on the table again?

-We have an early indication in this script that Hastings does not actually room with Poirot when the latter informs him: “She lives in the flat below me in Whitehaven Mansions.” At the same time, Hastings seems to have such easy familiarity with Poirot’s flat that one simultaneously could assume that he lives there– the way he walks up to the flat and hangs out in the kitchen after the play (it’s after 11, and he’s not even just walking Poirot up to the flat. He takes his coat off like he’s visiting for awhile, and I’m not sure that the receiving of a check is really a good enough reason for it). And he’s later asked by Poirot to escort Donavon “up to the flat” and make him some coffee. This doesn’t bother me, but I can see how fans could be confused about Hastings’ omnipresence.

-When we see Mrs Grant getting settled in her flat, she sits a picture frame, whose image we cannot see, on her table. When Jimmy and Donavon discover the body, a broken picture frame of the same type is at her feet, its picture removed! Nice touch. Something similar happens with Flossie Monro’s effects in a chapter of The Big Four. Something seems to be missing, though: the smashed drinking glass she had dropped when she was shot. No one takes heed of any such thing when the body is discovered, or attempts to avoid stepping on glass. Did Donavon dispose of it…?

-Fans debate: does Poirot pay for all repairs for the Lagonda at the end, since Hastings’ car (and a bit of heroic tomfoolery) was important in catching the murderer? It seems more likely to me that he was merely offering to fork over the ten pounds he had originally wagered.

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Conclusion: I think it’s a great episode, very entertaining and humorous, and it highlights the personalities of Poirot, Hastings, Japp, and Miss Lemon well. Although it’s funny, it still manages to be both sinister and poignant in various places as well. It does raise an awful lot of open-ended questions, however.

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The Chocolate Box: a graphic

I’m working on a longer blog post about this episode, but I thought I’d get this out of my system first. There are a few interesting discrepancies in The Chocolate Box, but this might be my favorite… 🙂

Four and Twenty Blackbirds: episode overview

I haven’t done an episode review for awhile now, so here’s one I’ve been mulling over in the last few days.  🙂

Things I Loved:

Making Poirot’s friend Bonnington his dentist also. Doing this scores a couple of script writing points. First, it provides some insight to Poirot’s character which is reiterated elsewhere in the series (he hates going to the dentist). Second, Poirot’s aching bicuspid makes a convenient excuse for him to meet with Bonnington a second time, so he can hear the news of Henry Gascoigne’s death; in Christie’s original, they meet again randomly on the Tube. Finally and most importantly, it makes the references to the dead man’s teeth seem natural and consistent with the rest of the story, and serves to slightly conceal the vital clue.

The contrast of the opening scene. Brighton’s frivolous outdoor revelry is sharply contrasted by the interior shot of the dying Anthony Gascoigne.

A tiny detail in the closing scene, but I thought it was great anyway– when the lads are gathered again at the restaurant at the end, you see Molly come through the shot from the back left, bearing two plates of a dessert that might conceivably be the blackberry crumble and depositing them before customers. This is an exact parallel of one of the last lines of Christie’s story, and I appreciated the touch.

Mrs Mullen, the neighbor of Henry Gascoigne, treating Poirot like he’s deaf or unable to speak English– SO funny.

-Bringing food into the rest of the story. Many of the early scripts, especially those based on the “slighter” short stories, take elements from Christie’s original and incorporate the themes into the other characters’ storylines. (For example, in The Cornish Mystery, Mrs Pengelley’s digestive troubles and diagnosed “gastritis” parallel Hastings’ stomach issues and diet.) The crux of Four and Twenty Blackbirds is one man’s eating habits which give away a crime. The script writer for this episode adds the delightful scene of Poirot cooking for Hastings, which is also a good excuse to throw in some Belgian references. The line, “Please– do not be stinting with your praise” is one of my all-time favorite moments of Poirot vanity.  🙂

Miss Lemon’s wireless program. She is listening to a radio drama featuring A.J. Raffles, “London’s Man of Mystery.” He and his sidekick Bunny were modeled from Holmes and Watson; she describes Raffles as “such a dashing figure.” You could read this as an early indication that Miss Lemon finds the whole renowned-London-detective-character attractive, and it elicits a very interesting look on Poirot’s face when he hears it. Of course, in the books, Miss Lemon wouldn’t touch detective fiction with a ten-foot pole (see: Dead Man’s Folly), but the discrepancy doesn’t trouble me. Oh, and the fictional Raffles is also a CRICKETER! Considering Hastings’ cricket mania in this episode, is this a coincidence?

-The forensics team at Scotland Yard, which would go on to send Poirot a get-well message after his bout of food poisoning in Evil Under the Sun.  😀  And Japp absolutely cracks me up in the scene at the Yard in which Poirot is trying to wheedle some information out of him. His “scrap heap of scrap” and his “I didn’t”… ha! And in the midst of the humor, and despite his skepticism of Poirot’s interest, you nonetheless get a good sense of Japp’s own intelligence here.

-Speaking of which, I need to hold forth about the denouement of this episode. This is the very first of Poirot’s many dramatic, public reveals. He (rather outrageously) brings the whole Scotland Yard forensic department onto Lorrimer’s stage. When Lorrimer tries to make a dash for it, he is blinded by stage lighting and cops appear to cover all exits. It is done in truly over-the-top theatrical style– practically music-hall, indeed– and foreshadows future denouements with a calculated theatrical setting (Problem at Sea, Jewel Robbery at the Grand Metropolitan, Lord Edgware Dies, Three Act Tragedy, The Big Four). But what stood out to me in this early “big reveal” was a reminder of one of the reasons that David Suchet manages the character of Hercule Poirot so well. It’s one thing to say that he’s a great actor and does his homework and all that– true, but the same can be said for Ustinov and Branagh, and I don’t really want their Poirots. There is a combination of characteristics that Suchet seems to have a natural facility for playing really, really well. The “foreigner” is an obvious one. But in dramatic reveals like this one, a duality in Poirot’s personality is displayed in striking fashion: on the one hand, an extremely charming and/or charismatic gentleman; on the other, a figure who is ruthless to the point of death, and deadly terrifying as a result. Several of Suchet’s very best roles of screen and stage have featured this duality of character, including Robert Maxwell, Rudi Waltz, Melmotte, and Iago. Christie wrote this contrast into her own character, and to see someone of Suchet’s experience and skill have at it is absolutely inspirational.

Things I Didn’t Love:

-Hastings himself was a bit weirded out by the vaguely voyeuristic overtones of the awkward moment in the gallery when Dulcie Lang is posing for a life class. I mean, points for character representation of Hastings, I guess. Not devastating or anything as a moment, but awkward.

-For all the fun of the denouement, there were some curious choices in the general unraveling of the crime. The biggest clue in the story were the “blackbirds”– or blackberries– that the dead man with the unstained teeth was supposed to have eaten. This discovery of Poirot’s was revealed not at the climax of the story, but in the middle. Likewise, the supposition that the last meal that Gascoigne had eaten was not dinner, but lunch, became a deduction made along the way. The dramatic denouement was really more about informing Lorrimer how much tangible evidence they had against him. Part of me wanted a bit more recap at the very end as to just why Lorrimer’s performance was “fatally flawed” (mainly, because he forgot to eat like his uncle).

Things That Confused Me:

-If you were already familiar with the story, the dynamic shifts in the TV plot may cause a little confusion generally. In the book, Anthony Gascoigne had married a rich wife and was consequently well off, while brother Henry was an “extremely bad” artist who was poor. Lorrimer had to wait until Anthony died, because the money would come to his brother, who he had to kill shortly afterward, hence the careful timing of the murder. In the episode, Anthony may or may not have been well off, but Henry was, including assets that could only be sold after his death. If Henry Gascoigne is the rich one, why does Lorrimer have to wait until after Anthony dies to kill Henry? Instead of the chain of inheritance, the focus is shifted so that the very existence of Anthony serves to provide other plot elements: another suspect for the impersonator, some background as to the brothers’ quarrel and the influence of an artist’s model, and just general red herring-ness. It seems the story almost could have been told without Anthony.

-It was something that puzzled me in the book as well– how does George Lorrimer know that Anthony Gascoigne had made no will (or in the book, no recent will at least)? Since the twin brothers had a very long-standing quarrel, it makes sense that they’d consider cutting each other out of their wills if they’d had any.

-Why does Mrs Mullen, the observant neighbor, unlock the door of Gascoigne’s house and let Poirot and Hastings in, since she’s so suspicious of them? And if she knew that Dulcie Lang was upstairs, why “break in” at all– why not just ring?

-In Poirot’s first meeting with Dulcie Lang, he surreptitiously cuts a small piece of blotting paper from the blotter on Henry Gascoigne’s desk. We don’t discover what this is all about until the stage scene, where he reveals how the deception with the smudged postmark was done. But surely there is no way Poirot could have guessed at that point that the tiny blotter smudges he first saw on Gascoigne’s desk were of any relevance to his death.

-Are we supposed to believe that Dulcie Lang’s passionate retort that she would never part with Gascoigne’s paintings at any price indicates some romantic interest? It kind of comes across that way– and the deceased was not young, just saying.

-The restaurant in the book was called the Gallant Endeavor. This was changed to the Bishop’s Chophouse in the episode, and was accordingly filmed at the oldest chophouse in England, Simpson’s Tavern. This is all well and good, since the Gallant Endeavor is supposed to be extremely British in its cuisine, shunning all things hinting of the continental, and has all the marks of a chophouse. However, I don’t really understand why the sign “Simpson’s” is clearly visible on the outside of the restaurant as it was filmed, as characters in the episode clearly refer to it as the Bishop’s Chophouse.

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Conclusion: What can I say? I do love it! In all of its inimitable, sweater-vested glory!  🙂

Poirot, Jeeves & Wooster

Now that I’ve watched through the Jeeves & Wooster series several times and read a number of the books (all highly recommended), I feel vaguely qualified to do a bit of comparing and contrasting between it and Agatha Christie’s Poirot.

It seemed a logical move. After all, the two series do have several rather notable things in common. Here’s some listage for you.


Compare…

• Both were produced, in the late ’80s- early ’90s, by Brian Eastman.
• Both are heavily defined by some excellent Clive Exton scripts. He adapted well and maintained quite a lot of the original authors’ dialogue and atmosphere, to the lasting satisfaction of hard-core fans. Speaking of which…
• Both series feature source material from 20th-century British authors that are known to be #1 in their genre. Not just close, but actually at the very top. You don’t get more superlative than Christie in mystery and Wodehouse in humor.
• The title character actors in the two series– namely, David Suchet, Stephen Fry, and Hugh Laurie– are unquestionably some of the greatest talents England has ever seen fit to put on screen. And they all do great accents. 🙂
• Gorgeous sets, gorgeous locations, gorgeous clothes. All the great visuals of well-done period drama. Not to mention snappy theme songs.
• Eastman deliberately infused both shows with a cultivated domesticity that further endeared the characters to the viewer. There is an unmistakable “family” atmosphere at Whitehaven Mansions and Berkeley Mansions.
• Likewise, the shows are quite family-friendly, remaining consistent with the original authors’ material.
• The original stories which form both series include bachelor gentlemen friends sharing a flat and moving in more-or-less upper-class English society. One of the pair is super-intelligent, sartorially impeccable, and great at solving problems; the other is pleasant but not terribly bright, and serves as a frequent stooge and an admiring chronicler of the tales. This is very “Sherlock Holmes” in setup, but in both cases, the authors subvert things in their own ways: Christie makes her brainy cove an eccentric Belgian, while Wodehouse makes his “hero” the servant.

Contrast…

• Brian Eastman made a deliberate decision with Poirot to not include the character of George in those early episodes. This was entirely because he was working on Jeeves & Wooster simultaneously, and didn’t want another series with a valet! This led to greater emphasis on the character of Miss Lemon instead. Another result is that Hastings (patient soul that he is) ends up performing a number of minor tasks that you might normally associate with a valet, although he isn’t really employed in that capacity– paying cab fare and tips, helping with the jacket, nabbing drinks, and so on. To contrast Poirot’s actual valet, George, with Jeeves– it is clear that although George is a sort of paragon in his own way (he must be to come up to Poirot’s standard), he doesn’t possess nearly as much imagination or intelligence as Jeeves. Still, in the books at least, George is instrumental in helping Poirot with some of his cases (“The Under Dog,” “The Lernean Hydra”).
• Because Eastman produced, and Clive Exton scripted, ALL of Jeeves, there is greater consistency in the feel of the shows in many respects. The fact that it ran only four seasons would also be a contributing factor. Poirot, on the other hand, spanned some 25 years, with various script writers and others dealing with production. On the other hand, Jeeves & Wooster has a tremendous inconsistency in casting; Fry and Laurie are in every episode, but nearly every other important character is played by multiple actors, which can result in very confusing viewing. Only rarely in Poirot is a different actor cast for the same role (e.g. Vera Rossakoff). And Suchet’s consistency in the role over a 25-year-span is impressive, to say the least.
• There are some locations shared in common, as is typical in British period drama. Halton House, for example, appears in The Labours of Hercules as well as “Bertie Sets Sail.” Yet there isn’t quite as much location overlap as one might expect. Since Jeeves & Wooster leans “1920s” and Poirot is set firmly in the 1930s, and careful decisions were made regarding period architecture, there is some significant divergence here. Including…
• Although we often think of Agatha Christie’s cozy mysteries in an English country house setting, it seemed to me (correct me if I’m wrong) that Jeeves & Wooster takes us out into the country more often, despite Bertie’s preference for the metrop, while Poirot’s cases were quite often right in the city. Obviously there are a number of exceptions. But this may be because the Jeeves stories generally revolve around Bertie’s family and friends, many of whom are extremely rich and live in these huge country houses.
• If we are contrasting Hastings with the character of Bertie Wooster, we will find that Hastings is, understandably, not nearly so silly. Their manners of speech are quite different. In themselves, there are few great similarities beyond their time at Eton. But I’ve been wondering if Clive Exton didn’t deliberately (or not) imbue some of his Poirot scripts with Wodehousian moments. Hugh Fraser’s Hastings becomes known for his catch-phrases, including “I say!” But offhand, I can only recall Christie putting those words into Hastings’ mouth once– in Black Coffee! But Wooster is always dropping “I says” all over the place. Consider his very first words after meeting Jeeves. Another scene that suggests Wodehouse is at the beginning of The Incredible Theft, in which Hastings is lying on the couch, rambling about cubic “whatsits” and “thingummies.” Again, words never used by Christie’s character, but by Wodehouse’s. Exton’s adaptation of The Veiled Lady includes Poirot chastening Hastings for leaving him “in the soup”– never used by Poirot in the books, but a ubiquitous phrase Wodehouse uses for describing Bertie Wooster getting into trouble. And in Murder in the Mews, Poirot disparagingly asks: “‘The thing,’ Hastings? You think Poirot concerns himself with mere thingness?” The use of “thingness” is pure Wodehouse.

Agatha Christie and P.G. Wodehouse– I don’t think you can possibly enjoy one without loving the other as well. Hercule Poirot is even mentioned in more than one of the Jeeves novels (Wooster being a big fan of detective fiction). For example:

“I mean, imagine how some unfortunate Master Criminal would feel, on coming down to do a murder at the old Grange, if he found that not only was Sherlock Holmes putting in the weekend there, but Hercule Poirot, as well” (The Code of the Woosters).

Christie, for her part, dedicated her Poirot novel Hallowe’en Party to Wodehouse.

“To P.G. Wodehouse – whose books and stories have brightened up my life for many years. Also, to show my pleasure in his having been kind enough to tell me he enjoyed my books.”

So, gentle blog reader, not only should you get watching– get reading, too! 🙂

Twelve of Christie’s best references to the STACHE.

Several of my personal favorites, anyway.  🙂  In no particular order…

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“If only, Hastings, you would part your hair in the middle instead of at the side! What a difference it would make to the symmetry of your appearance. And your moustache. If you must have a moustache, let it be a real moustache– a thing of beauty such as mine.”

Repressing a shudder at the thought, I took the note firmly from Poirot’s hand and left the room.

-Peril at End House

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“Dear me,” I said, recovering from the shock. “I suppose next time I come home I shall find you wearing false moustaches– or are you doing so now?”

Poirot winced. His moustaches had always been his sensitive point. He was inordinately proud of them. My words touched him on the raw.

“No, no, indeed, mon ami. That day, I pray the good God, is still far off. The false moustache! Quel horreur!”

He tugged at them vigorously to assure me of their genuine character.

“Well, they are very luxuriant still,” I said.

“N’est ce pas? Never, in the whole of London, have I seen a pair of moustaches to equal mine.”

A good job too, I thought privately. But I would not for the world have hurt Poirot’s feelings by saying so.

-The A.B.C. Murders

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“I assure you, I am really a very humble person.”

I laughed.

“You– humble!”

“It is so. Except– I confess it– that I am a little proud of my moustaches. Nowhere in London have I observed anything to compare with them.”

“You are quite safe,” I said dryly, “you won’t.”

-Lord Edgware Dies

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[Mrs Oliver]: “Mrs Ap Jones Smythe, or whatever her name is, did make a codicil to her Will leaving all her money to the au pair girl and two witnesses saw her sign it, and signed it also in the presence of each other. Put that in your moustache and smoke it.”

-Hallowe’en Party

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“Japp!” exclaimed Poirot, disengaging himself from the Countess’s arms.

“It would be better, perhaps, if I went into the other room,” said the Countess.

She slipped through the connecting door. Poirot started towards the door to the hall.

“Guv’nor,” wheezed Mr Higgs anxiously, “better look at yourself in the glass, ’adn’t you?”

Poirot did so and recoiled. Lipstick and mascara ornamented his face in a fantastic medley.

“If that’s Mr Japp from Scotland Yard, ’e’d think the worst– sure to,” said Mr Higgs.

He added, as the bell pealed again, and Poirot strove feverishly to remove crimson grease from the points of his moustache: “Wha do yer want me to do– ’ook it too?”

-The Labours of Hercules, “The Capture of Cerberus”

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“Doubtless she has been informed of my identity,” said Poirot, trying to look modest and failing.

“I think it is the famous moustaches,” I said. “She is carried away by their beauty.”

Poirot caressed them surreptitiously.

“It is true that they are unique,” he admitted. “Oh, my friend, the ‘tooth-brush’ as you call it, that you wear– it is a horror– an atrocity– a wilful stunting of the bounties of nature. Abandon it, my friend, I pray you.”

-Lord Edgware Dies

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“And then, figure to yourself, Hastings, an idea of the most unreasonable seized this Mr. Pearson! Nothing would suit him but that we should go ourselves to this eating house and make investigations. I argued and prayed but he would not listen. He talked of disguising himself– he even suggested that I– I should– I hesitate to say it– should shave off my moustache! Yes, rien que ça! I pointed out to him that that was an idea ridiculous and absurd. One destroys not a thing of beauty wantonly. Besides, shall not a Belgian gentleman with a moustache desire to see life and smoke opium just as readily as one without a moustache?”

-“The Lost Mine”
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While the Lovely Young Thing made a suitable reply, Poirot allowed himself a good study of the hirsute adornment on Mr. Shaitana’s upper lip.

A fine moustache– a very fine moustache– the only moustache in London, perhaps, that could compete with that of M. Hercule Poirot.

“But it is not so luxuriant,” he murmured to himself. “No, decidedly it is inferior in every respect. Tout de meme, it catches the eye.”

-Cards on the Table

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He looked at himself in the glass. Here, then, was a modern Hercules– very distinct from that unpleasant sketch of a naked figure with bulging muscles, brandishing a club. Instead, a small compact figure attired in correct urban wear with a moustache– such a moustache as Hercules never dreamed of cultivating– a moustache magnificent yet sophisticated.

-The Labours of Hercules

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What was even more humiliating was that he had no real ideas, even now, as to what had actually happened. It was ignominious. And tomorrow he must return to London defeated. His ego was seriously deflated– even his moustaches drooped.

-Dead Man’s Folly

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Poirot stroked his own magnificent mustache tenderly. “It is an art,” he murmured, “the growing of the moustache! I have sympathy for all who attempt it.”

It is always difficult with Poirot to know when he is serious and when he is merely amusing himself at one’s expense. I judged it safest to say no more.

-“Double Sin”

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“Poirot,” I said, as he remained rapt in thought. “Hadn’t we better go on? Everyone is staring at us.”

“Eh? Well, perhaps you are right. Though it does not incommode me that people should stare. It does not interfere in the least with my train of thought.”

“People were beginning to laugh,” I murmured.

“That has no importance.”

I did not quite agree. I have a horror of doing anything conspicuous. The only thing that affects Poirot is the possibility of the damp or the heat affecting the set of his famous moustache.

-Lord Edgware Dies

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Poirot Christmas humor, via screenshot

Being the very silly person that I am, I could not help but notice that certain moments in Hunter’s Lodge and Hercule Poirot’s Christmas presented an irresistible opportunity for silly holiday screenshots. Here’s three for you, featuring Poirot with a Christmas bow and he and Hastings sprouting antlers. You’re welcome.  😀

Poirot would totally kill me if he ever saw these.

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***UPDATE***

Feedback, a.k.a. Hugh Fraser retweets it and makes a really silly pun:

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Too nerdy for Poirot…

I had to share this because it’s hilarious. I found these cufflinks on Etsy made out of bits of Marple and Poirot books– pretty awesome. But I recognized the Poirot book reference and thought I’d throw it out as a bit of trivia on Twitter. Someone unexpected chimed in on the conversation…

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The moral of the story is: post inane trivia on Twitter; get picked on by David Suchet.

Love that guy!!

“Agatha Christie’s Great Detectives Poirot and Marple” – Poirot goes anime

Okay, I’ve just laughed myself stupid this evening, and it’s because I’ve finally watched some of that Poirot/Marple anime series that originally came out in 2004-2005. The series adapts a number of Poirot and Marple stories and sort of blends them together through this primary character of a 16-year-old girl who is Miss Marple’s grand-niece, Maybelle West. She becomes a Poirot fangirl and desperately aspires to be (and becomes) the detective’s “junior assistant,” eventually sharing house with Miss Lemon and tagging along with Poirot and Hastings on their expeditions.

And she has a pet duck named Oliver.

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Does this sound like the classic makings of a Mary Sue fanfic? Why yes, yes it does!

When you see the theme opening, you’d be excused for thinking that you’ve shown up to the wrong party. The focus is almost entirely on this Maybelle West character and her faithful duck companion, with Christie’s detectives appearing almost incidental . And the theme song is, well… you really do have to hear it to believe it. I daren’t give away all the glories that await you, but here’s a tiny sample.  🙂

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I may sound critical, but it’s got a few cute things going for it. The stories, except for all things connected with the insertion/wish-fulfillment style of character that Maybelle resembles, are at least fairly close to Christie’s originals. The attempt to blend the Poirot/Marple universes together through an external, unifying character is a valiant one. And it turns out that Anime!Hastings is kind of hot.

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I say that Maybelle is Mary Sue-esque, but she doesn’t have a huge range of super-skills or anything like that (however, sometimes she is annoyingly quick to hit on certain clues that prove vital to the solving of the case). There are many, many moments in this series of “what is this, I can’t even.” She’s trying to “find herself” and Miss Marple gives her tremendously cheesy advice and… there’s the recurring duck…

anime3

You have to laugh.  😀  If your interest is piqued, you can watch “The Jewel Robbery at the Grand Metropolitan” here.

 

 

 

Poirot anagrams

You know I like wordplay and its unique aesthetics. Now that we’ve covered ambigrams, how about… anagrams?

poirotanagram1

Anagrams are more common and involve rearranging the letters of words or phrases to make new words or phrases. For the extra-nerdy effect, one seeks for anagrams that actually sort of make sense! You can work them out by hand or use anagram generators. Here are a few fun ones I found, based on names relating to Agatha Christie’s Poirot.

Hercule Poirot:

-Hip Clue-Rooter
-Uh, Retro Police
-Peril or Touché
-Poor Ethic Rule
-Our Helicopter
-Procure the Oil (Note: I have no idea what this has to do with ANYTHING but it made me laugh. My friend Aaron suggests that it relates to the grooming of the moustache.)  🙂

Arthur Hastings:

-Stating Hurrahs
-Truth as Sharing
-Harrassing Truth
-Gain Harsh Trust

Inspector Japp:

-Cop Tips Pen Jar

Felicity Lemon

-Comely Tin File
-File Nicely, Tom

Ariadne Oliver:

-I Arrived Alone
-A Violin Reader

Agatha Christie:

-A Tragic Heist– Aha!