Aerial Telly

Prey ITV episode 2 review | Slipped disk

Prey ITV episode 2 review

ITV

Having supposedly “not” murdered his wife and annoying Chris from Homeland son renegade plod Marcus Farrow is off the leash, on the lam and out for blood. His first point of order is to dive headfirst into a wheelie bin. No one will ever think of looking for a murdering copper there! Once he gets the leftover kebabs, used condoms and wino puke off him he takes the opportunity to do some casual breaking and entering at his former BFF Devlin‘s house. It’s a good spot to score some leftover curry, get some new clothes, Devlin’s police ID, a few quid and do some detecting. It’s the coolest identity theft since murdering sex offender Amanda Knox stole the persona of a wrongly convicted woman. With some neat anti-surveillance moves he throws Reinhardt off his trail so he can chase up Hassan‘s widow Leila. He does this in one of Devlin’s cheap suits sprayed stiff with Lynx Africa to give that authentic incel cop feel.  Leila assures him that whoever the corpse on the moor is Omar is no more dead than she is. And that my friends¹ is not very.

He does this in one of Devlin’s cheap suits sprayed stiff with Lynx Africa to give that authentic incel cop feel.

Reinhardt meanwhile is pretty busy herself. She arrests Devlin for obstruction then stalks her ex-husbland with fresh croissants. I’ll be honest that’s getting a little weird. She’s hacked his Facebook page too which is obviously emotionally healthy. Maybe it’s her they should be putting in prison.

Marcus visits the address Leila gives him but finds it’s just some illegal alien called Malachi fronting with Omar’s identity. Bloody hell, is no one who they say they are anymore? Malachi gives him the name Alex Chambers which is a nice break somewhat tempered by the arrival of Reinhardt and her crew of flunkies surrounding the house with a yo-ho-ho and a “get the fuck out”.

She phones Marcus up for a pre-entry chat but he’s really not in a talking mood. He makes his way through a shared attic and out through the neighbour’s front door while the police storm in and focus on the correct target – the innocent foreign. Marcus is able to make good his escape by using an old dear as a normality beard. He walks past hundreds of onlookers and police with the brilliant disguise of his own glasses and an old bitch.

He’s got moves, this one. He manages to get the disk to Andrea who agrees to make copies of it but it could be all for naught as Reinhardt is just a few blocks behind him. She traps him on a bridge over a dual carriageway but he Richard Kimbles himself over the edge and onto the central embankment. It’s a mere 40 foot drop so after the impact he dusts himself down and hobbles off. He escapes with a shattered pelvis and vertebrae C1-L5 broken which is pretty good going.

Reinhardt pursues him onto a train where he pulls the emergency stop. Careful Marcus! That’s a £500 fine – wouldn’t want to break the law. He leaps out of the carriage and into the path of an oncoming train that sends him 90 foot into the air before dumping him on the track. He quickly brushes that off as well. Reinhardt is so out of condition that even with 349 fractures, massive internal bleeding and fatal brain-damage Marcus is able to outpace her for about an hour. She could probably do with laying off those croissants.

Reinhardt is so out of condition that even with 349 fractures, massive internal bleeding and fatal brain-damage Marcus is able to outpace her for about an hour.

When she finally catches him he tells her about The Big Conspiracy and all things considered she’s a pretty sympathetic ear. When she tries to get smart about it though he takes the Chris Brown route and knocks her the fuck out. As Radiohead’s Karma Police plays ironically on the radio his one remaining ally Andrea deep fries the floppy disk he bid her copy.

It’s true what they say. Those deep fat fryers will kill you one day.

The verdict: Tramps like us, baby we were born to run (into the path of a speeding lorry).

Marks out of 10: 8

¹ Eat sautéed kangaroo dick, jailbait juice. You are not Aerial Telly’s “friends”.

Exit mobile version