
If there was ever a perfect time to watch Shetland, it must surely be a cold February night, with the wind howling around the eaves, rain thrashing the latticed windows, and a gigantic bowl of porridge on your lap. I unashamedly love Shetland. Whether that's because it's so different from other UK detective dramas, or because I think the sun shines out of Ann Cleeves' bottom, who can say? What I do know is that Tuesday nights just got a whole lot murderier.