In the Heat of the Night Review

The first time I saw In the Heat of the Night, I was in my playdough-and-sugary-toothpaste years. Bearing in mind that at that age, my primary interests in life were lego, crayola pencils and satisfying my next sugar high, my soul shrivelled out of boredom faster than Usain Bolt on crack.

But having watched it again as the walking tantrum-throwing hormone that I was as in my glorious teenage years, I rather liked it actually.

Plot: Ray Charles scowls the theme tune. The uniformed peeping tom discovers a dead one decorating the pavement. Rod Steiger appears, chewing his gum so enthusiastically it has probably been churned to liquid. The peeping tom sets his sights on Mr Tibbs to scratch his police order claws against. Mr Tibbs turns out to be a Philedelphian detective just trying to slug his ass home after visiting his mother. Gets his arms wrangled into working amongst the as-inviting-as-a-locked-door Southerners to bust out the Sherlock on the murder case and wrench his way through a plentiful supply of greaseball rednecks.