I haven’t written off Torchwood just yet. But I was catching up with episode two, a little late because Katharine has a low tolerance of sci-fi (which is balanced my loathing of CSI: Wherever, which she can watch back-to-back) when she entered the room and asked for quick plot summary:
‘That girl’s possessed by an alien which forces her to have sex with as many men as possible so it can feed on their “orgasmic” energy.’
Don’t get me wrong. I’m right behind those who say Torchwood’s been promoted as a ‘a post watershed show in a post watershed slot’ and that whinging parents should f*** off. Yet I thought for adults meant for grown-ups, not a rip-off of something in which the chair of the Tory Party might invest.
The other credibility issue is trying to make Cardiff look glamorous. This means they do everything down the bay (and you thought Salford Quays was soulless?) with lots of lets-pretend-we’re-in-Barcelona alfresco dining. Highly unlikely given that Cardiff’s rather wet (far soggier than Manchester, for example) and culturally insignificant; if Cardiff were in England it would be on a par with some nowhere place like Norwich. It has no historic claim to be capital of Wales (a task Liverpool was happy to take on until 1955) and struggles with the burden of expectation that title creates.