My hour for tea is half-past five, and my buttered toast waits for nobody.

Yep, the Sweeney is back on TV, and not before time, but way too long between drinks for me - I've lost my Sweeney ear. I spent the first half of the episode whining "Hold up, George" and "SBS Euro cop subtitling unit: we need you", but alas, no SBS subtitles to the rescue, so I've still only the rough gist of the chappies in the very, um, impressive ski masks (wot, had the IRA bought up all the butch black ones?) robbing toffs with shooters and our lads grumbling and swearing and in and out of sweaty pubs and the like. A couple more weeks and I'll be like Manny after he over indulged in the Sweeney - grin.

So, of course, last night, despite having every good and just intention of watching the no doubt excellent Brit telly the ABC was serving up, well, it just wasn't going to happen, not when there was Tufty in the offing. So yeah, I watched Life on Mars. And loved every damn minute of it.
( more: the gentleman prefers blonds )